Key West is renowned for several things: it’s the southernmost tip of the continental United States, it’s the birthplace of key lime pie, and it was Hemingway’s home from 1931 to 1939. During these years, he wrote Death in the Afternoon, the Green Hills of Africa, and To Have and to Have Not. I know this not because I visited Hemingway’s house on Wednesday and got a guided tour, but because I use the Internet.
I did visit Hemingway’s house on Wednesday, if you count standing outside the high brick wall that surrounds his property and air-typing while your daughter takes your picture. We arrived in Key West around 10am. It was already steaming hot and parking was scarce. We drove by the house and could see it was overrun with tourists. I mean, who are all these people who arrive well before you at the places you want to see, even when you set out at 8am?
Apparently they were all people who were willing to purchase tickets to shuffle around Hemingway’s house in a pack following a guide. I’m sure it’s a great tour and I would have learned a lot. We’re just not the ticketed tour types. Plus as I told Jessie, reports are in that he wasn’t very nice to women. She asked how I knew this. I knew it from watching a fictionalized movie about him and Martha Gellhorn, but I improvised and said because he was married four times. Single eyebrow arch from the daughter.
Fair point. One of the things I wanted to do in Key West was shop for a wedding dress. If you have ever gone shopping in Key West, Key Largo, or indeed Miami, you will know that unless you want to get married in beach bling you are bang out of luck shopping for a wedding dress. I’m not looking to be married in white this time, or even ivory. Any color will do. But I also don’t want to be married in a paisley silk halter-neck with flounces.
And yet this was pretty much all we saw in Miami Beach on Monday. We made forays into a few boutiques on Collins Avenue. I optimistically tried on some flowing ruffly creations. They looked okay in Miami, but I knew that transported to the Hudson Valley in early October they would look exactly like what they were: beach bling. Jessie tried on some fun creations too: she looked spectacular, but she already has her dress for the wedding. We tried Macy’s. Surely the staid old department store would have something classier? Turns out Macy’s on Miami Beach is all about…paisley flounces.
Undeterred, we hit some thrift stores on the Keys on Tuesday. I felt in my bones that I would find my wedding dress at Jolene’s Hidden Treasures and Boutique in Tavernier. The moment we walked through the door, the feeling intensified. The place was a trove of unique clothing, everything from stetsons to scarlet sequins. Jolene was bustling around in the back and called out to ask us if we were looking for anything special. My mom’s getting married, Jessie said brightly. Then we both giggled silently at each other. Jolene was on it immediately. I have the perfect dress for you! she cried, it just came in! I stood very still, waiting to see my dress.
She emerged from behind a clothing rack holding a giant white mass of gauze ruffles. It looked like a big meringue, circa 1980. Think Charlie’s Angels are all marrying the guys from Miami Vice. I smiled weakly. Actually I said, hoping I could keep the horror out of my tone, I wasn’t planning on doing the white thing this time around. Her face fell. She clearly thought she was going to see me leave with meringue dress.
We poked around for a bit and I tried on some interesting creations, but none of them were quite right. I’ll admit it: shopping for your wedding dress in a thrift store is a shade optimistic. I tried on a lovely pale green thing that swept down gracefully to the floor. But it had a thread pulled in the front and it looked a bit scruffy, even for me. Besides, getting married in pale green just seems a bit…pale.
Key West was no better. After we peered over Hemingway’s brick wall at his very shady and gracious house, we checked out a few dress shops. Sundresses with lace. Sundresses with sequins. In one store, I told the helpful assistant that I was looking for my wedding dress. What time of year are you getting married? she asked. Umm, I said, trying to think how to phrase it, kind of late next week sort of time. She looked at me pityingly and pointed to some sundresses.
So maybe I’m not getting my dress in Florida. Or my shoes, unless they’re going to be glittery flip-flops. To console ourselves, we headed to Fort Zachary, lauded on Google as the best snorkel beach in the area. There were two flaws in our plan: one, Fort Zachary was next to a naval base so our beach experience featured frequent low flying military craft and two, we forgot the snorkel gear.
It didn’t matter. Life on the Keys has a way of working out just fine. We sizzled gently on the beach for a bit and then swam out in the aquamarine waters where the Atlantic meets the Gulf of Mexico. Jessie waxed lyrical about how Cuba was just out there. I turned to where she was pointing. There was a little pile of rocks about a hundred feet out with a single bird perched motionless on top of it. What, those rocks there with the bird? I said in a silly English accent I learned from Monty Python. We both cracked up.
I’m heading back to New York. They have dress shops in New York, I feel sure. Macy’s in Poughkeepsie will have classy gowns that flow about my body and have never been worn by others. I’m kind of sad that I didn’t find my dress at Jolene’s Hidden Treasures and Boutique. But I have a full nine days, only five of which are work days, to find my dress and shoes. How hard could it possibly be?
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