Bride Cannot Get Her Wedding Dress Because of Skin Color Prejudice — Story of the Day

Allie is preparing for her dream wedding. She has almost everything in order - thanks to her wedding vision board. But when it's time for her to find her wedding dress, she is faced with prejudice because of her skin color.

Allie paged through her magazine and looked at all the brides in their different dresses. She loved them all. From the dress silhouettes to the accessories, she was spoilt for choice. She poked at her salad, rolling her eyes because she wanted to sink her teeth into extra cheesy pizza.

But she had promised herself that clean eating was the way to glowing skin for the wedding.

"You're beautiful just the way you are," Scott had said to her when she told him that takeout was no longer acceptable for the three months leading up to the wedding.

"Maybe so," she teased. "But I've got to do a little more to get to the princess level I want."

Scott laughed.

"I suppose we could get you a tiara for the wedding," he said.

Now, Allie ran her fingers through her hair. She had been treating it well, and her natural hair shone in its beauty. It was soft, curly, and everything she had wanted as a little girl. She remembered the long nights she had to sit impatiently between her mother's legs as she used to condition and braid Allie's hair while they listened to jazz music.

She remembered flinching when her mother pulled too hard and how her mother would wrap her arms around her and kiss the crown of her head.

"We've got to do this, Peach," her mom would say.

"Why? It hurts!" little Allie would ask her, thinking about how her friends at playschool always had a much easier time brushing their hair and pulling it into a ponytail with brightly colored scrunchies.

"This way, your hair will grow long and smooth," her mother always said.

And when she was done, she would take her forest green satin bonnet and put it on Allie's head, ready to tuck her in for the night.

Allie threw the magazine onto the coffee table in front of her, and she picked another one up. She glanced at the Pinterest vision board she had printed and put into her big 'Wedding Binder.' Allie loved planning, she had planned everything out, right down to the color of confetti that the guests would toss as she and Scott walked down the aisle again.

Not that that was a problem. The real problem was that Allie had spent all her time planning everything else, and now, three months to the wedding, she still didn't have a dress.

"Al, why are you stressed out about it?" Scott asked her.

"Because I need everything to be perfect," she replied.

"And it will be. Go to the bridal boutique on Boulevard. You'll find everything you need. Do you want me to come with you?"

"That's definitely bad luck," she said, grinning. "But do you think I'd find the perfect dress there?"

"Definitely, and if you don't, then we'll just take the closest one and make it perfect with alterations. You're going to have your perfect day, I promise."

"Our perfect day," she reminded him, chuckling.

Scott owned the boutique but just did it because it was lucrative.

"It's something timeless," he explained to Allie on one of their first dates. "People will always get married, and they will always want to look their best. I don't plan on being too involved in the actual functioning of the business. Just the overall running of it, I guess."

"So, it's safe to assume that you know your bridal designers or something like that?" she teased him, nibbling on a breadstick.

"Not even close. I know their names, and I'm familiar with some of their designs, but ask me for more details, and you won't get anything but a blank look out of me," he said, picking up his champagne flute.

"What about materials?" she asked, enjoying getting to know his different side.

"I know lace and satin. Does that count?" he grinned.

"That's good enough," she smiled.

*

Allie decided to close the binder. She needed new inspiration. She loved her wedding planning, but it took over all her thoughts. She got off the couch and gathered all her magazines and the binder. She needed to get her hands busy with something else. So, she decided to bake.

She got out all the ingredients she needed to make eclairs – she loved them, but Scott loved them even more. As she was working her way through the choux pastry, she wondered if she should add mini-eclairs to the dessert menu for the wedding.

Allie put the tray of perfect eclair shells into the oven. She set the timer on her phone to alert her when the eclairs were prepared. Then, she decided to phone her mother.

"Hi, Peach," her mom's sing-song voice rang through her ear.

Allie could almost picture her mother sitting with her feet up on the old ottoman that their cat used to sleep on. Allie wondered what her hands were busy with.

"I'm pitting cherries," her mother said right on cue. "They're the sweetest batch I've come across in a long time."

"Hi, Mom," she said, smiling. "What are you doing with the cherries?"

"Trying to decide whether to make fresh jam or a pie. What do you think?" she could hear her mother biting into a cherry.

"Pie, definitely, pie," Allie said. "I'm just making eclairs."

"You're baking, are you okay?" her mother asked.

"Yes," Allie laughed. "I just needed a break from wedding things. Speaking of which, you're coming here for the weekend, right?"

"This weekend?" her mother asked.

"Yes. Mom, we were going to look for wedding dresses this weekend!"

"Oh, Peach," her mother sighed. "I completely forgot."

Allie's heart sank. She wanted her mother to be right there with her, telling her which dresses stood out, highlighting her body, and which made her look frumpy. She wanted her mother to tell her which shade of white would make her skin glow.

*

"There's five shades of white," Scott told her during that date. "Did you know that?"

Allie shook her head.

"White is white," she said.

"Cream, eggshell, ivory, Navajo white, and vanilla," Scott said, counting them off his fingers.

*

"It's okay, Mom. Really," she began.

"No, it's not. It's your special day, and I should be there," her mother said. Allie could almost feel her mother's stress through the phone.

"It's just the first time I'll be looking at dresses," Allie said. "But it will be more important for you to be here when I have the final fitting. That's when it really counts, okay?"

"Shall I rush over? Because I can tell your brother to book me a ticket when he gets home this evening," her mother said.

Allie wanted to say yes. She desperately wanted her mother to come to her, help her breathe between all the planning, have her cook Allie's favorite meals, and spend more time with Scott before the wedding.

She wanted her mother to see him for who he was – to look beyond the difference of their skin color – something that her brother, Reece, struggled with doing.

"His family is always going to have a problem with how we do things," Reece said.

"No, I don't think that's true. And even so, we don't do things very differently," she said.

"It's the way of life, Allie. The way of how we live our lives."

"It seems you're the one with the problem, Reece."

"And just like," he said. "It has begun."

*

"That's alright, Mom. I've got this," she said firmly.

Allie also knew that her mom hated to fly alone. It was one of those phobias that she had tried to shake but just didn't end up happening as she expected. Now, her shaking hands had stopped, but her feet would swell uncontrollably until she was safely back on land.

"But if you change your mind, you will tell me, right, Peach?" she asked. "And I'll be there in a heartbeat. Well, a few hours. But you know what I mean."

"Yes, Mom. I promise," Allie said. "Now, you go make the pie. I have some chocolate to melt."

Allie cut the call and sipped the juice she had poured. She felt a little dejected, if anything. Her bridesmaids were all over the place, and she did not expect them to drive into town just for her fitting. Although, in a different world, she would have wanted them all sitting on the velvet couch in the bridal boutique, sipping chilled champagne with raspberries.

She wanted them to be all dressed up and as excited as she was. She wanted her mom to tear up when she saw Allie step out of the fitting room in 'the' dress. She wanted to feel special and loved. And she knew she was, but sometimes she craved being the center of attention. Not in a loud and obnoxious way, but more in the silent way that came with people showing up.

Allie sighed and took another sip of her juice. She decided to experiment with different flavors, and as her chocolate melted, ready to coat half the eclairs, she began to dice up strawberries. She wanted chopped mint added to the strawberries, but Scott didn't like mint.

"It's like toothpaste," he would say.

Allie finished off her baking and cleaned the kitchen. She knew that she was slightly obsessive about keeping the house clean. But that's how she liked it – a clean home meant she could function properly, whereas clutter overwhelmed her and sent her mind into overdrive.

She was grateful to be a remote worker working for a digital marketing company. It allowed her to be flexible and relaxed as long as she put in her best efforts and met all her deadlines. But being a graphic designer also allowed her to be creative and logical when working with brands. It had helped her have a keen eye for detail and allowed her to be bold with color.

Ironically, her wedding vision board was entirely pastel, except for the forest green dresses that her bridesmaids would wear.

"I really thought that you would have wanted something brighter and bolder," Scott told her when they sat with her vision board for the first time.

"What happened to 'Scott, I like colors'?" he asked, laughing at her.

"I'm trying the classy but a bit casual and also a little bohemian type of vibe for the wedding," she said, torn between laughing and trying to understand if he was disappointed with her choices.

"I love it," he said. "Really, Al, I do."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "Because we can change everything!"

"Definitely sure," he said, kissing her cheek. "Now, walk me through this board."

*

Scott knew that Allie was stressed about the wedding, and he wanted to help her out. But he also knew that she would feel like she was losing control of everything if he did. And he couldn't do that to her. It would send her back into her shell.

Instead, he responded enthusiastically whenever she showed him something, which was okay with him. He trusted her opinion on it all.

"But I do have something for you to do," she said while they were in the kitchen, making grilled cheese sandwiches at midnight.

"Sure, what do you need?" he asked while grating the aged gouda.

"I think you should pick the song for our first dance," she said. "I've made decisions regarding everything else. Now you do this."

"And you'll be fine with anything I choose?" he grinned.

"Well, you need to remember that it is a wedding and a first dance."

"And?" he prompted.

"So, keep it special and romantic," she said, putting the first sandwich into the pan.

"Okay, Captain," he said.

He washed his hands and stood against the sink, watching her carefully.

He loved this woman.

"Here," she said, sliding the sandwich onto a plate.

"Thank you," he said, taking it from her. "But I'll wait for you."

Allie refused to let Scott phone the store and tell them she was coming.

"Look, Al, your mom's not coming, and none of your friends are in town. Would you like me to come with you?" Scott had asked her.

"No," she said. "I'm going to be just fine, I promise."

"But you'll be alone."

Allie laughed.

"It's just the first time. I'm only going to look around. And I'm not superstitious, but I don't want to risk anything – it's supposedly bad luck for you to see me in a wedding dress," she said.

"Okay, but how about I call the boutique and tell them you're coming in? Have the staff prepared for your visit? Tell them to pull the best dresses by the fanciest designers out?"

Allie smiled.

"No," she laughed again. "I just want to go in and experience it all. If you call ahead, it won't be authentic. In fact, I think it will put pressure on me. To choose something today, you know? And I don't want everyone fussing over me. Okay?"

Scott nodded, put his arms around her, and pulled her to his chest.

"If you're sure," he said.

Allie smiled against his skin.

*

When Allie left, Scott called the boutique – he wasn't going to break his promise to Allie, but he wanted to do something to ensure that her visit would be precisely what she hoped it would be.

But even so, he hated that she was all alone in this. He knew her mother would have loved to be here, but she was also getting old, and traveling didn't seem to agree much with her. He hoped that Allie would at least video call her mom.

"Hello, Boulevard Bridal Boutique, Sandra speaking," came a voice.

"Hi, Sandra," he said. "It's Scott."

"Oh! Hello, Sir! How can I help you?" she asked.

"Sandra, an important customer is coming in today. She wants to remain anonymous, so ensure you take care of all the customers as you should normally. Ensure that all new dresses are available, including the one-off designer pieces. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Sandra said.

After a pause, she continued.

"Are there any other details you could give me?" she asked. "So that I have an idea of who it is."

"No, unfortunately not. We have to respect the customer. But just put on your best smile and continue caring for our brides. Remember, the store thrives on being warm and welcoming. To everyone who enters through our doors. Pour the champagne, keep the tissues ready, ask the stylists to weigh in on dress fittings politely and helpfully."

"Okay! I'm on it!" Sandra said.

"I'll call back for feedback this evening or tomorrow, Sandra."

"Perfect, thank you, Sir. It will all be fine!"

Allie parked the car and sat for a few minutes. She picked up her iced coffee and took a long pull of the icy goodness that would fuel her for a visit to the boutique. Although Scott owned it, he barely came to the store to see it – instead, he entrusted the general upkeep and aesthetic to one of the managers, Sandra.

Allie couldn't remember Sandra's last name. She couldn't remember the second manager's name – Scott didn't speak much about him.

She really wished her mom was with her. She decided to call her.

"Hi, Al," her mom said as she answered on the first ring.

"That was quick," Allie laughed. "What were you doing?"

"Playing Sudoku on my phone," her mother giggled. "I'm getting pretty good at it."

"Nice one, Mom," Allie said. "So, I'm sitting outside the bridal boutique. Any words of advice before I go inside?"

"Allie, you've never wanted my fashion advice," her mother laughed.

"I know, but I'll gladly take it for this," Allie said.

"Listen, Peach. Dress for your body. You know your body better than anyone, so you know how to style it. Pay attention to the different fabric types and the color swatches. Remember, our skin is different. You can choose from all shades of white because it won't wash you out. Instead, it will make your skin glow."

Allie smiled so hard that her face hurt.

"Anything else?" she asked her mom.

"Watch the cleavage!" her mother said. "Do you want Reece to throw a fit?"

"I'm not dressing for my brother," Allie said. "I'm not even dressing for Scott. I'm dressing for myself."

"And that's the only way I'd have it."

"Okay, Mom. I'm going in," she said.

Allie was more confident now after speaking to her mother. She needed to go in with an open mind and pay attention to what looked good on her body.

"Ask someone to take photos for me, Allie. I want to see everything," her mom said.

I'm going in! she texted Scott.

He replied seconds later with heart emojis. Allie assumed he was in a meeting; he would have said more if not.

Allie walked into the boutique and instantly felt calmer than she had a few minutes ago. She wondered if it was because of the strong rose scent that perfumed the store. Soft classical music was playing overhead, and large velvet sofas for the bride's tribe to sit on while she tried on different gowns.

Everything was elegant and sophisticated. Scott's mark was firmly stamped on the place, even if he left some elements to Sandra's discretion.

The boutique was a bride's paradise.

A woman with striking blue eyes gave Allie a tight smile. She assumed that this was Summer. But Sandra showed no signs of talking to Allie, nor did she attempt to introduce herself.

Maybe they just leave you alone until you need them, Allie thought.

She walked around the store, soaking up that she was a bride and that this was the final thing she needed to tick off her list.

After a little while, Allie thought she had found the dress. It was simple, which was exactly what she wanted all along. The top half was covered in lace, and the bottom was an A-line that just dropped. She picked up the dress and held it in front of her in the mirror. She loved it, even before trying it on.

Just as she admired the dress, Sandra, one of the managers, pulled the hanger away from Allie.

"Please don't touch the dress," she said.

Allie was confused.

"Why can't I touch it?" she asked, bewildered.

"Once you have paid for it, you can try it on," Sandra said with a fake smile.

"But that makes absolutely no sense," Allie said. "It might not even fit me."

Allie watched as Sandra put the dress back on the rack.

"You have fitting rooms," Allie said. "I want to try it on first, and then I'll pay for it if all is well."

"Yes," Sandra said. "We do have fitting rooms so customers can try on the things they have already bought. You know, after they pay for them."

Allie laughed in disbelief.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said. "This is the first time I've ever heard of such a thing. The first time I've heard that I cannot try on a dress before buying it."

"Well, that's the way it is. It is our policy," Sandra said. "I don't make the rules."

Then, she smiled at Allie one more time and walked away.

"Wow," Allie scoffed.

But Allie knew that Sandra was making it up. There was no way possible that Scott would put such a foolish policy in place. He was the one who told her to try on many dresses and just enjoy the feel of being a bride in his boutique. She knew that Sandra was being unreasonable and petty.

And she knew that the reason for that was an old and exhausted one – Sandra was just another prejudiced woman. One who was hateful to people of color and had no problem showing off their prejudice.

Allie felt defeated. She wanted to find her dress in Scott's boutique. There was a beautiful serendipity. And she had found that perfect dress. She was about to try it on and take it for a whirl around the fitting room when Sandra's prejudice showed up and ruined everything.

Allie simply did not want to fight. She did not want to have to justify herself. She also did not have to reveal that the person who could take away Sandra's job was the man she was marrying.

She decided to leave the store and take a walk to clear her head.

Maybe I'll grab a donut or something, she thought to herself. Something to sweeten the mood. I can take a break from healthy eating for one day. I already ruined it with the coffee.

Allie left the store without looking back. But she had gotten her donut, and the sugar ran through her veins. Allie wanted to go back for the dress. She needed to go home for a while and work for a few hours, but she promised herself that that dress would be hers tomorrow morning.

First, she went back to the boutique to see Sandra.

"I'll come back to the dress tomorrow, okay?" she said.

"Yes, that's fine. You can try it on after you purchase it. The price is $3500. In cash."

When Allie got home, she made another salad and steak for Scott. She had decided not to tell Scott how she was treated at the boutique. Instead, she would tell him she had found her dress and would pick it up tomorrow.

"Why are you picking it up tomorrow?" he asked, pouring wine into two glasses.

"Because they needed to order one in my size," she said.

Allie hated lying to him but wanted to protect him from the truth. If he knew what had happened, he would have gone to the boutique and demanded an explanation from Sandra. And if she was truly being honest, she was afraid of how he would react to the fact that this was just another thing that came with having her skin tone.

That did not make it acceptable or okay in any sense, but it was more the fact that she did not want to pass that burden onto him.

"And it will be ready tomorrow?" he asked. "I can always ask for a rush order."

"Tomorrow's fine, honey," she smiled. "They said it would be waiting for me in the morning."

"And please, just take my card, Al."

"Scott, let me at least sort out my wedding dress by myself," she said.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, holding his hands up. "I just want to take care of you, honey."

"I know," she said. "I love the way you love me, Scott."

The next morning, Allie logged onto work in her pajamas. She drank her coffee and focused on working on designs for one of the company's new clients. She spent a few hours perfecting the requested logo design and created an entire marketing color palette for them. When she was satisfied, she handed everything over to the project manager.

As Allie bathed, she imagined what she would do with her hair for her wedding. Of course, her vision board had an array of ideas for both hair and make-up, but Allie always favored simplicity for her look in general.

Driving to the boutique, Allie wondered if Scott had chosen the song for their first dance yet. She hoped he had done so because she had them booked for dance lessons in the upcoming week. At least Scott enjoyed dancing; Allie hated it.

She always thought that her two left feet would leave her tripping over someone else's feet and falling onto the middle of the dance floor. But Scott always kept her in place, steady and confident.

She did not want to waste time when she got to the boutique. She still had to go home and return to work. So, when she entered, she decided to go straight to Sandra and pay for the dress before doing anything else.

"Here you go," she said to Sandra, taking the money out of her purse. "$3500, just as agreed."

Allie put the crisp notes on the counter in front of Sandra.

Sandra looked at Allie and back at the pile of notes on the counter.

"You can count it if you'd like," Allie said.

"Well, the thing is that this dress," Sandra said with a plastered smile. "The dress you want as part of the discounted range. But that special promotion is over now. The dress that you want is now $5000."

"But before I left yesterday, we discussed the price. And this is what we settled on."

"Oh, it wasn't me," Sandra said. "You probably spoke to someone else."

Allie rolled her eyes. Sandra knew full well that she had spoken to her.

"But anyway, as I said, that deal has expired. So, it's $5000."

Allie felt defeated by the situation. She had the money, but it was more than that. It was the fact that if she had a different skin color, she would never be treated like this.

She wished that her mom was there. She wished that Scott was there.

"Bella, how's it going in there?" a woman asked.

Allie looked up toward the fitting rooms and saw a young woman waiting for another to come out.

Her friend threw back the curtain and pushed her way out.

"What do you think?" the bride asked, showing off her dress.

"It's not bad, Bella. But I like the first one better," she said.

"This one definitely seems less pretentious, no? Which is what I wanted, to be honest!"

Allie loved their enthusiasm. It was infectious.

"Come on, Bella! Let's take a photo in this one!"

Allie took a step forward and watched them. She didn't realize that Sandra had followed her.

"Oh, my Goodness. I am perfect!" Bella, the bride, explained while her friend took her photo.

Allie had had enough.

She turned around and took the money from the counter.

"What does this mean?" she asked Sandra. "Explain to me how some people can try on dresses and others cannot?"

"That's because these girls are our regular customers," Sandra said.

"Excuse me?" Bella said. "I'm not a regular. This is my first time here! Please don't make me a divorcee. This is also my first marriage!"

Allie rolled her eyes. She was done.

"Maybe you'll get a discount as a regular customer," Bella's friend said.

"Oh, that would be nice," Bella said.

Sandra laughed awkwardly. Allie could see that she was trying her hardest to protect herself.

"So, let's get this straight. You're not letting me try on this ridiculously overpriced dress, but you are also just lying straight to my face."

"Look, don't make me—" Sandra began.

"Get me the other manager now," Allie said, sitting on the couch.

Sandra narrowed her eyes at Allie.

"Fine," she said.

Bella called Sandra to take the dress that she had just changed out of.

"So, how about a discount?" Bella asked Sandra. "You know, because I'm a regular customer."

Sandra gave them a stern look.

"Not on this dress, no," she said.

Allie shook her head. She was definitely going to tell Scott all about this.

"Hello, my name is Martin," a man said next to Allie. "I am the manager of this boutique. Well, the first-choice manager, anyway."

Allie stood up.

"How can I help you, miss?" he asked her.

"Hello," she said. "Please, walk with me."

She just wanted to get away from Sandra. She was tired of her.

"The thing is," she said. "I found a dress that I loved, and of course, I hoped to try it on. But your co-manager or employee, whatever she –"

"Yes, yes, yes, I am aware of the situation. And I do apologize for this misunderstanding. But as boutique manager, I am willing to offer up a solution that will be convenient for everyone here."

Allie nodded.

"So, you're right. You cannot pay for a dress of that price without examining it from different angles. So, let's have one of our employees try it on for you."

He gestured to a woman with red curly hair. Which looked quite similar to Allie's own hair.

Oh, she sighed. This is happening now.

"Hello! I'm Irene!" she said excitedly.

"Irene has kindly agreed to try on your dress; you can see it from all angles once she has it on. And then you can see if it suits you. And look at how lucky we are. The two of you look very similar."

"What?" Allie said, exasperated. "That's absurd. Why can't I just try my own dress on? Just like the way the other girl did in front of me?"

Irene looked at Martin, who looked at the ground.

"How to put it?" he said. "It would be much less risky, you know?"

"No, Martin. I don't know."

"It would be less risky for me to try it on, Martin," Allie said. "Because, in fact, I am the one who will wear it on my wedding day."

"For me," Martin said. "It will be less risky for me, the boutique, and the dress."

"Is this really happening?" Allie asked, looking to the ceiling. "Tell me, what can I do to this dress just by trying it on?"

"Listen, young lady, we are doing everything we can here. We are making an exception for you. Please, understand that."

"Oh, don't worry. I can clearly see that exception."

"So? We're on the same page?" Martin asked.

"Can I try the dress on?" Irene asked excitedly.

Allie turned to Sandra, who had joined the conversation. She had the same smile plastered on her face.

Everything in Allie's body told her to just leave the store. Nothing was worth this. This was degrading and worthless – it made her feel worthless. But she had dreamt about walking down the aisle in that dress the night before. She wanted to marry Scott in that dress.

"Okay," she said. "I agree."

"Perfect," Martin said.

Allie spent the next hour watching Irene flaunt in her dress. But it was snug on her, which meant that there would be a big size difference for Allie, who was petite.

"Listen," she told Sandra. "Will you take my measurements?"

"Sure," Sandra said. "But you must tell me what they are. I cannot measure you."

"Why not?" Allie asked.

"I just can't."

Allie gave her measurements and then left to go back home and get back to work.

*

Three weeks later, Allie was finally going back to the boutique to get her dress.

"I told you, love," Scott said. "We should have taken the dress to a professional."

"It's okay, the dress should be ready today!"

"Text me when you're there, I'll meet you. Don't worry, I won't come inside, and I won't see the dress. But we can go for lunch after?"

"Okay, that sounds like a deal."

"Ta-da!" Martin said, pulling back the curtain and showing Irene standing in her dress.

The dress looked exactly the same. And judging from how it fits Irene, there were absolutely no alterations.

"What do you think about it? It looks great to me!" Martin said.

"Oh, thank you! I'll take it!" Irene said, committing to her roleplay.

"Well, I don't know," Allie said. "It's really hard for me to tell since Irene is a different body size and type compared to me.

"What are you implying here?" Irene asked.

"I am not implying anything, Irene. I'm just saying that you and I have different measurements, so it's a different situation."

"But we made it strictly to the measurements you gave us," Sandra chipped in.

"But this is also why it would have been more logical for me to try the dress on," Allie said.

"Yeah, but I don't understand why you are getting so upset," Martin said. "You asked us to alter the dress, and that's exactly what we did. You asked for it to be tried on, and we did our best here, too. If you don't pay for the dress, it will be considered a loss to the store. Which is something that I cannot allow."

Allie was growing anxious by the exchange happening in front of her. She didn't know what to do, but she wanted to be swallowed up by the ground.

"Look," she said. "I'm a customer. I was willing to try on and buy a dress I wanted to wear on the most important day of my life. But I cannot take the way you are and have been throughout this process, clearly discriminating –" she said but got interrupted.

"Oh, I see," Martin said. "And you were going to come in here, try on the dress, not pay for it, and leave? Were you going to take the dress with you?"

"Is that really how you imagine it? That's how you see me? I came in here weeks ago. I wanted the dress. I was told I needed to buy it, so I brought the money. Then you had someone else try it on and sort out measurements that were not my own. And now, even after all that, you think I'll roll the dress up and run out of the store with it in my bag?"

"Well, you said it, not me," Martin said.

"I wasn't going to steal anything!" Allie exclaimed.

"All of you are potential thieves," he said.

"All of you?" Allie repeated. "What do you mean by that? Now you're not even trying to hide your racism."

"Okay, I've got enough of your endless accusations. Blah, blah. I've had enough of this."

Allie could barely believe that this man worked for Scott.

"You have two options," Martin said. "Either leave here immediately, or I call the police."

"I'm not going anywhere," Allie said, trying to stand her ground. "You have absolutely nothing to accuse me of."

"Let's try calling them and see," Martin said, pulling out his phone. "Hello –"

"Okay, fine," Allie said. This was the last thing she wanted. "I'm leaving."

"Leave, and don't ever show up here again! James!" Martin called, calling the security.

"Don't touch me!" Allie said, trying to pull her arm away.

As if she conjured him, there he was.

Scott.

"What's going on here?" Scott asked.

"Sir! Mr. Scott! Mr. Scott!" Martin called as he ran toward them.

"Mr. Scott," Martin said. "James, you may leave. We are really sorry for all the commotion. But now everything is under control. This girl was going to steal a dress."

"But we have already dealt with the little thief anyway," Sandra said. "We won't let her in again."

"Yes, honey. Can you imagine I won't be allowed in your store anymore," Allie said.

"Woah, woah, woah. What?" Scott asked.

He looked from Allie to Martin. To Sandra and Irene, and then back to Allie.

"Can someone please explain why my fiancée cannot get her dress? Or why she's being threatened to never enter my store again?"

"He also said a lot of nasty things to me. They all did. And they wouldn't even let me try a dress on," Allie said. Now that Scott was here, she felt a lot braver.

"Fiancée?" Martin asked. "But she didn't tell us that…We didn't know."

"You didn't ask. You didn't ask anything about me or my wedding. You let my skin color do the talking."

"I have no words to express how sorry I am, Allie," Scott said.

Then he turned to his employees.

"I created this wedding boutique to help every woman feel special in anticipation of the biggest and most exciting day of her life. And then my fiancée came in, and you made her feel the complete opposite of that."

He paused and looked at Allie for a moment.

Then he turned back to the rest of them.

"Pack your things. You are fired. And I will make sure you're never going to work in this city again.

"I'm sorry, we were just trying to…" Irene said.

"You, go take off that dress immediately. Now, all of you, get out!"

"Come on, girls. You heard Mr. Scott," Martin said, dragging them with him.

Scott wrapped Allie in his arms.

"Now, go. Go pick any dress you want. I'll wait outside."

Allie smiled.

"No, we can do that tomorrow. Let's go home."

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If you enjoyed this story - here’s another one | Tom Scholzen experienced meanness from passengers on a flight when a disorientated woman sat in the wrong seat. Luckily, the lady had a human guardian angel who came to her rescue and made the experience all the better for the affected woman and Scholzen. Read the full story here.

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