a poem for your sunday: the dresses we wear

  The Catch

by Richard Wilbur

      From the dress-box's plashing tis-

      Sue paper she pulls out her prize,

Dangling it to one side before my eyes

         Like a weird sort of fish

      That she has somehow hooked and gaffed

      And on the dock-end hold in air--

Limp, corrugated, lank, a catch too rare

         Not to be photographed.

      I, in my chair, make shift to say

      Some bright, discerning thing, and fail,

Proving once more the blindness of the male.

         Annoyed, she stalks away,

      And then is back in half a minute,

      Consulting, now, not me at all

But the long mirror, mirror on the wall.

         The dress, now that she's in it,

      Has changed appreciably, and gains

      By lacy shoes, a light perfume

Whose subtle field electrifies the room,

         And two slim golden chains.

      With a fierce frown and hard-pursed lips

      She twists a little on her stem

To test the even swirling of the hem,

         Smooths down the waist and hips,

      Plucks at the shoulder-straps a bit,

      Then turns around and looks behind,

Her face transfigured now by peace of mind.

         There is no question--it

      Is wholly charming, it is she,

      As I belatedly remark,

And may be hung now in the fragrant dark

         Of her soft armory.

Last evening Z unearthed this poem from a Richard Wilbur collection; the book had arrived earlier in the week, and I'd laid it on the coffee table, intending to devote a little time to reading the poems within.  She showed me the poem right after I'd gone upstairs to change into my pajamas, after modeling the new dress that had taken me most of yesterday to find at the mall.  

I detest malls in general, dress shopping in particular, and we have several formal weddings to attend this fall.  No matter where I look, formal dresses seem to be immodest, flashy, and cheap looking.  I’d love to see a dress online, order it and be done!  Dress shopping needs to happen in person though, so off to the shops for me and T, who allowed himself to be dragged along to try on new suits.  Yesterday, I found the perfect dress at the first store!  The saleswoman who was helping me said, "No matter where else you look, you won't find another dress that will suit you so well."  I suppose she was working on commission, but she was, in fact, correct.  We walked the entire length and breadth of the extra-large mall near us, and stopped at every possible dress shop.  No other dress was so perfect.

I finished That Hideous Strength yesterday morning, and read the part about the women finding dresses from the spoils of Logres a few times. Then I read this essay and the subsequent comments.  I didn't quite understand why the dress scene was included; choosing beautiful garments while the menfolk are cooking a feast seemed so incongruous to the preceding mayhem and gore at the Institute's dinner.  (Perhaps that was the point?) And yet, the act of choosing dresses for each other gives important insight into the character of each woman.  How the women react to the particular dress that suits them does, too.  The scene also provided a mirror for me.  How do people see me?  How do I want to be seen?  How do I see myself? How do I appear to God? Are they all in agreement? I will probably still be reflecting (no pun in tended, but absolutely appreciated) on these thoughts in the weeks to come.