Some Kind Of Wonderful: Say MAYBE To The Dress
We’ve all seen the pictures on our Facebook feeds. An Instagram filtered photo of a radiant wife-to-be surrounded by her bride tribe, in a trendy bridal boutique with wide smiles and the signature hashtag #Yestothedress. Later we’d here the story about how the dress actually found her, and when she tried it on, she knew it was the one. She just knew. Well, that’s not exactly my story.
By all accounts the wedding dress is one of the most important choices you’ll make as a bride. In the hierarchy of decisions, it’s sandwiched somewhere between your choice of a life partner and centerpieces. When I started thinking about a wedding dress I only had two requests, something classic and comfortable. As we started getting closer to the wedding date friends and family began asking me if I had found the dress, when in fact I hadn’t even started looking yet. The truth is that I’m actually not a big fan of clothes shopping, especially shopping for something you’ll wear for a lifetime of photos. Heightened expectations paired with competing personalities and a touch of champagne seemed like a dangerous combination. I decided that if I was going to a bridal store I needed to do some field research first, which is just really another way of saying I spent and embarrassing amount of hours on Pinterest. The website allowed me to enter in all of my specifications and then populated my search with thousands of beautiful dresses (seriously, how did people get married before the Internet?). Of course being the dutifully bride-to-be, I went through each and every one. With each click I could feel I was getting closer to my dress. Finally there it was, a Nicole Miller dress with the clean lines and simplicity I was seeking. I was in love. The following morning I called to make an appointment at one of their stores in New York City for the next month. And then a strange thing happened. I found myself constantly checking on the dress like someone social media stalking a potential mate they met online. How did the dress look in different lighting. How did it look with a beaded sash. How did it look with cap sleeves. What I’ve come to realize is that when planning your wedding, at some point you will face a decision that will turn you from a normal fully functioning bride, into a crazed lizard brain lunatic. Whether it’s choosing the perfect flavor of artisanal cheese or slaving over a signature cocktail it will happen. For me it happened when I found this dress. Oh how I loved this dress.
Which explains how I found myself up late one night thinking about the dress. My dress. I had a glass of pinot noir and was operating at creeper level 5,000 so I decided to, you know, just casually check on it online. No big deal. As the website slowly loaded and my sleepy eyes quickly came to focus I saw in bold letters the dress was on sale. A big sale. 30% OFF, HOLY GOD IN HEAVEN WHAT DO I DO!! I began anxiously pacing across my house contemplating all the implications of ordering a dress online. I don’t know which was racing faster, my heart or my brain. I poured myself another glass of wine and sent text a girlfriend, “Is it a bad idea to order a dress online?” Of course I already knew the answer. It’s never advised to order a dress online. There are a lot of reasons why, but one of the main reasons is bridal dress sizing. Wedding dress sizing is a bit of voodoo science - it's like you take your “street size” and then add three sizes and then factor in your zodiac sign and the moon cycle and voila! I had no idea what size to order this dress. Luckily, this was a decision made easier by the fact that the dress was only available in two sizes, one of which was actually very close to my size. Of course I took this to be a kismet sign that I had to buy this dress. I mean, why tempt fate. I took a deep breathe. I closed my eyes. I pressed purchase.
Days passed and my late night purchase seemed more like a dream. Until the dream become reality when one day I heard a knock on my office door. I looked up from my computer screen to see a colleague standing at my doorway, holding an oversized brown box. I swear I saw an aura of light surrounding the UPS logo and chorus singing Joyful Joyful as she handed me the package. My dress had arrived. Later that night I gently opened the box and pealed back the layers of delicate tissue paper to reveal its white fitted bodice and sweetheart neckline . It was beautiful. I think I may have even cried. It was definitely the one. I carefully stepped into the dress, took a deep breath, and gently pulled up the zipper half way . . . where it stopped. This is not going to make a good hashtag.