Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah

For 45 minutes – until just past midnight -- I tugged, I pulled, I pleaded, I cursed myself for not having a (snickering) boyfriend to help out, and I tried pulling the dress over my head. I threw myself on my bed, envisioning myself stuck sleeping in this black satin floor-length number, trying again in the morning, and eventually having to call in, um, stuck zipper to work.

Yes, it’s my bridesmaid dress. Not even the correct bridesmaid dress, which has just arrived in DC and which I’m fearing will not fit because I oh-so-cleverly ordered a size too small, hoping I’d get my act together. Oh, no – this is the bridesmaid dress from my friend Erica’s wedding in May ’04, which I thought I’d gotten rid of but luckily was still stuffed in a Selfridges bag at the top of my closet.

All this from a backup bridesmaid dress.

Is this a sign?

Oh dear. What kind of sign? I can’t even think about it.

Just after midnight I did what any desperate person does when standing around past midnight in a floor-length evening gown that she cannot get over her head nor tug down over her hips: I Googled “stuck zipper” (10,100 results in .14 seconds).

Hit 11 was a web site that suggested candle wax. Umm, OK… but how exactly does one get candle wax on the zipper without burning the dress? I considered. Trying to drip wax from a burning candle would be too inexact – I’d then have to worry about how to get the wax off the dress. Eventually I broke off a bit of candle, held it above the flame, then rubbed the warmed bit of candle on the zipper. At first it didn’t work, just like I was sure it wouldn’t (but of course had to try). Then I repeated the process. And voila. The satisfying zzzzip sound of, well, a zipper unzipping.

Sometimes I love the Internet.

If only I could say the same of the bridesmaid dress.