I had a moment of panic this week. I realised that I am going to a wedding in less than 10 days and I had nothing to wear. That meant I was going to have to go shopping. As some read this with envy I was looking at this as equivalent to a visit to the dentist.

I am not seeking sympathy but the reality is many designers believe that a person with my waist should also be approx. 6 foot tall, so many things that might be suitable tend to look a little frumpy on my 5 foot 2 stature. Add to that I don’t often wear dresses but this wedding seemed to lead me think it was “frock” time. Argh!

So this week during my lunch hours I scanned the choices in my home town – a choice of about 3 stores to pick from. It is between-season too, so the pick of the winter fashions is long gone and the summer best is still on its way. Alas I found nothing that was even a possibility.

I scanned my wardrobe – surely there is something lying forgotten in the back of the cupboard that I could mix and match and recreate. There was one possibility however I had worn that to another family wedding and photos of that are still on Facebook. It’s a fault with these social media sites – how can you wear the same thing twice?

As today dawned I knew I had to do the hour drive to Tamworth (Australia’s Country Music Capital – ahh the guitar!), a bigger shopping centre with a few more options. And I went alone. I am sure I could have rallied a friend to go, if I had given them a little notice. But right up to when I drove out of the driveway this morning I was hoping my fairy godmother would appear to spin me a killer dress out of the cobwebs hanging in the corners and the dust over the shelves. She must be on holidays or didnt have any ideas either!

The drive to Tamworth is a beautiful drive, winding along the top of the Liverpool ranges with sweeping views of the patchwork quilt of crops – the yellow canola in flower, the green wheat plants readying themselves to form ears of golden grain, the last of the sorghum crops stubble lying dormant as the farmer decides the next best option.

My mind wanders to days when I would take my three girls on a shopping trek a couple of times each year. The car would be filled with the latest music hits mixed with a bit of Meatloaf and Abba, which we would sing at the tops of our voices. The music would be intertwined with stories about the latest happenings at school, what they would like to buy with a bit of bartering of what the shopping budget for the day would be. They were fun drives. For today I had one daughter on standby in case I needed to send pictures for advice.

I arrived in Tamworth and spent some time planning which shops would offer the best so I could quickly get this job over. Off to my favourite to start and voila! I chose 3 to take into the change rooms, I was getting slightly optimistic. I was secretly glad I had shaved my legs this morning as the assistant offered advice and kept bringing in jewelry options. They could smell my desperation and were already counting the commission on a sale.

One hour drive – 15 minutes to buy a frock – another hour finding the accessories – yep I went all out and am even wearing panty hose and a little clutch bag – and the trial was over. I’m hoping not to look too country in the city, though me in heels might actually give it away. I will let you know next week.