When I learned that my son was planning a huge, fancy, formal, black-tie wedding, I started planning the most important feature of the event: my dress. I needed an expensive, designer gown, but wasn’t willing or able to write a fat check for something I would probably never wear again – unless they start giving Oscars to bit players. Then I saw in the L. A. Times Classifieds that the CBS wardrobe department was having a liquidation sale.

I ran over there, and spotted the gown of my dreams. It was turquoise silk, with a sparkling beaded bodice, by the prize-winning Carmen Marc Valvo.  It fit like a glove – as long as I didn’t exhale – and the $1200 price tag was still dangling. I got it for twenty bucks. The wedding was fabulous, the gown was a big hit, and the price tag is still dangling inside – in case I ever want to re-sell it.

The only problem was that this was a hot, steamy July day in New York.  Even though the venue was air-conditioned, all that weighty beading was a heavy load to carry around during the swing dancing, which is Benni’s favorite.  I should have married a slow dance guy.  Oh well, nothing’s perfect – and the price was right (of the dress, not Benni).