Dress shopping is supposed to be the most wonderful - and often most stressful (it hasn't been; more on that later this week)- part of wedding planning. According the etiquette books, nearly everything about the feeling of the wedding is determined by the dress. The formality, the location, the theme. Scores of advice exist about finding and buying the dress, from "Make an appointment" to "Don't take your mother."
The goal, it is said, is that you should feel like a princess. Or, if you're not into that, like a modern, chic, magazine cover. The options are myriad, silhouettes and fabrics and necklines and trains and beading and straps and sashes and on and on. Even colors - this is not your mother's wedding dress, ladies.
Some girls I know have spent years imagining their weddings - particularly THE DRESS. I had friends in high school, no boyfriend, who kept wedding books full of photos of dream flowers, venues, honeymoons, and, especially, dresses. I was not that girl by any means. Playing catch-up after Brad's proposal, and trying to make up for not having spent the last 20-odd years dreaming about my big day, I started spending every spare moment looking at wedding dress styles.
I knew I wanted to stick with traditional white or ivory, though I wasn't adverse to having a sash or some kind of color spot, if it added to the dress. I liked the visual interest of ruching. Sweetheart necklines were nice. Embellishment should be minimal. No strapless dress, because I'm not keen on spending the whole night making sure my neckline isn't around my waist.
So, the weekend after Brad's proposal, my mother (yes, I took her - my mother is great and has a consistent position of being on my side in just about any argument) and my maid of honor accompanied me dress shopping. Our first stop -
Alfred Angelo.
I had previewed dresses on their website and selected my favorites and was certain I knew the dress I wanted:
The ruching! The straps! The simplicity! I was in love. Until I put it on. It was far from great. So, we tried others, including this one, which I vetoed, explaining I would spent the whole night fiddling with the weird fabric draping hanging down the front. I illustrated, giving the lovely shop assistant a case of hysterical giggles and, unintentionally turned the sash-y sort of thing into a halter top. We agreed it was better that way.
After 6 or 7 dresses, we settled on this as the best of the shop, with the color in a darker blue. Brad commented, when I later showed him this photo, that it looked like Barbie's Undersea wedding. Glad this wasn't my choice, hm?
We stopped into a small, crowded independent shop, but spent most of our time there make jokes about the glittery, fluffy prom dresses. I found a slinky, pink sequined number and told Alissa (in jest, obviously), that I'd decided to make it the bridesmaid dress. We left shortly thereafter, realizing that our guffaws were probably not appreciated by the shop owner.
The next day, we visited
David's Bridal. I'm actually not sure what compelled me to do so. I guess I thought I'd rule out the big-name dress stores as having anything THE DRESS, while getting an idea of what I liked and what I didn't.
We didn't get much help at first. David's Bridal has a policy of double-booking appointments and the other bride sharing my appointment was having a major dress crisis which occupied most of the shop assistant's time. I was, quite honestly, almost ready to walk out.
By nature, though, I'm pretty easy-going and willing to wait rather than cause a scene. So wait we did and, once the other bride left, we got excellent service. I was a no-nonsense sort of shopper, particularly since I wasn't expecting to find THE DRESS. I tried on dress after dress after dress, remarking on features I like and features I didn't. About 20 dresses later, Mom and Alissa settled on this as just about the best dress they could imagine:
"It's very pretty," I kept repeating. I wasn't sure, but also didn't want this to turn into a months-long search, particularly due to the short nature of our engagement and the fact that dresses can take four months to arrive and then still need to be altered. I decided to keep looking, but with a set deadline that if we didn't find a better dress in the next week, I would come back and order "the chiffon," as we referred to it, before their sale was over.
I searched around, looked at some others, but didn't find anything better. The next week I went back to David's Bridal, intending to order the chiffon. It wasn't THE DRESS, but it was nice, certainly. Just to be sure, though, I asked to try on a couple more. I tried the chiffon on first. It was definitely a pretty dress. And a couple others, which were also alright.
In, out, in, out - I put on the last dress, stepped up on the platform, ready to look up and immediately identify what was wrong with it. I looked up and...stopped. Stared. Stared some more. Stroked the skirt. Stared again. "It's," I tried, "Wow." This, this is what you're supposed to feel, I thought. Breathless. Beyond words. Thinking not, "What a pretty dress," but rather, "I look so beautiful."
So I ordered it. Right then and there, after a phone call to a friend who assured me that it was acceptable to spend a little more than your budget if it really and truly was THE DRESS.
That didn't stop my worrying, though, especially when Brad and I sat down a few nights later to really hammer out the budget for the wedding. On seeing exactly what percentage attire was taking in the budget, I was washed with guilt, chiding myself for being so impulsive, for potentially making a crazy mistake. What if I didn't even look good in the dress? I'd been there by myself. Sure, the shop assistant told me it was fantastic, but she's supposed to say that!
Two weeks later, though, I hauled my maid of honor, mother, future mother and sisters-in-law back to David's Bridal. My grandmother, two aunts, and a couple cousins came along for the ride. I slipped into the dress again, clipped the baggy spots so they could get the full effect of my Sopia Loren-esque curves (not usually, but in this dress, va-va-voom!), and stepped up on the platform.
They agreed - I wasn't crazy and didn't have to regret my impulse purchase.
It is THE DRESS.
