I base most of my fashion sense on what doesn't itch. ~Gilda Radner

I waited until almost the very last minute to see the Golden Age of Couture exhibit at the Frist Center, which is Nashville's art museum.
It was on loan from the Victoria and Albert Museum in London.
The first thing I thought of as I began to tour the exhibit (besides "Why is it so damn dark in here?!") was my Aunt Suzanne and her original Barbie dolls.
When I was little and we visited my granddaddy in Coldwater, Mississippi, I always ended up in Suzanne's room at the back of the house because that's where she kept her old Barbies. She didn't get them all out every time we came, but when she did, I was so happy.
Her Barbie dolls were much better dressed than mine. Even though I loved all 17 of mine, they came with these garish disco clothes.
Suzanne's Barbies had much classier wardrobes of silky evening gowns with demure rosebuds at the hip and stoles made of "real" fur.
Some had interchangeable wigs that came off like hats. Even Midge came with elbow-length gloves and perfect little molded evening shoes.
So as I moved through the Frist exhibit and began to take in the craftsmanship of the clothing, I suddenly felt like Cinderella after the clock struck 12.
I had gone to a bit of effort before leaving the house, dressing in a "housewife goes to town" outfit of nicer Capri pants, sandals and "cute" top.
I learned a lot at the show, such as how Dior's "New Look" designs, shaped to emphasize a woman's shoulders and hips, were considered scandalous in Britain because the clothing required so much fabric. Given that the country had endured nearly a decade of rationing during World War II, the British critics didn't immediately fall for the French designs.
As I pored over the Balenciaga suits and Dior dresses, I began to feel every loose thread on my Target pants and scuff on my discount shoes.
I stood a little straighter as I moved through the gallery, but still felt frumpy. At one time I had cared about fashion. Over time, though, with a family to care for, I placed less emphasis on the art of my clothes. My priorities were comfort, affordability, and appropriateness.
Even so, I came to the red Jean Desses gown and found myself standing before it like it was a painting, examining the gathers and draping.
Then a funny thing happened.
The gowns were all showcased on life-size, headless mannequins inside glass cases. The lighting in the gallery was such that, if I stood just right, I could see myself reflected in the glass, and it looked like I was wearing the gown.
I was "wearing" a couture gown! I walked from case to case "trying on" all my favorite dresses. I felt like a life-size Barbie.
Then I had to get back in the box.
But it was fun to play for a while.