Well, we’ve made it through the first four months of marriage! Crazy, right? It really does feel like much longer, but in a comfortable, peaceful way. Every day I appreciate my husband more and more. He’s working late on Rent again tonight so I just finished making myself a fancy Indian dinner for one: Chicken tiki masala over white jasmine rice cooked in lemongrass ginger tea and sprinkled with green onions and cilantro, and finished off with a cool glass of white wine.
I think I enjoy Indian food as much as I do because the first time I had it was when I was studying abroad in Stratford-Upon-Avon, England during the summer before my junior year of college. A select group of us were over there for a three-week Shakespeare scholarship and performance intensive at the Shakespeare Institute Birthplace Trust and with the Royal Shakespeare Company. We loved England and adored the work we were doing, but by day two we were pretty sick of English food, which is notoriously less than delicious. You can only have so many lamb pastries, egg salad sandwiches, and fish n’ chips platters before you’re just craving something, anything new. That evening we came across a nice Indian restaurant nestled snugly on a cobblestone street in downtown Stratford. Everyone else seemed to love Indian food; I had never tried it. It was phenomenal! England may not be much good at cooking up their own cuisine, but they sure do excel at making other county’s delicacies. I don’t eat Indian food often, but whenever it do it rouses such fond and wonderful memories of that trip with its distinctive flavor.
Anyhow, in honor of the 4-month mark, I’d like to take this post and the next to focus on an iconic part of a woman’s wedding day (other than the swell gentleman she’s pledging her life to, obviously): her wedding dress.
My dress shopping experience lasted four grueling months and spanned five cities in two states with a minimum of at least 16 different bridal salons. I went alone, I went with Ted, I went with my mom, with my mom and my dad, and with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law. I shopped in San Antonio, Austin, Milwaukee, Green Bay and a few other diddly-squat towns I don’t remember the names of. Shopping in San Antonio was a nightmare, an utter disaster because nearly every bridal gown closely resembled either a negligee or a Quinceanera dress – a mix between a sweet 15 and debutant ball for girls in the Latin American culture.
My dress shopping experience was less of a twirling, squealing, champagne-and-strawberries fairytale and more of a tiresome, frustrating pain in the ass. I tried on my fair share of truly heinous frocks, all of which looked heavenly on the hanger and horrific on my body, I assure you. I also tried on my fair share of glamorous gowns – some of which I liked, and some of which I almost loved.
Before I go any further, let me tell you a story. A few brief months before we got engaged, Ted asked me what kinds of rings I liked. Since I’d never been engaged before, I really had no idea what I liked. I couldn’t even properly identify a diamond’s shape or cut, or any basic ring settings. So off to the jewelry store I went to gather some rudimentary thoughts of what I might like. I tried on everything from solitaries to multi-stones and round to princess to teardrop cuts. My ring size at the time was 5.5 (now a 4.5), but the standard issue engagement ring carried in stores for brides-to-be to try on is a size 7. Now matter how beautiful the ring, when it’s a size and a half too large, the fit makes it seem all wrong. I left the jewelry store more confused than ever and discouraged because not a single ring looked good on me. They were all gorgeous in their own right, but because they were all so ill-fitting, I thought every one of them looked terrible on my finger, though I didn’t realize that this was the problem – I simply thought I just looked stupid in rings. The only one I was convinced I loved was an odd conglomeration of three or four differently shaped diamonds in uniquely-fashioned paisley setting. Looking back I recall that the ring was a return and therefore had been previously re-sized to was a size 6 – much closer to my natural ring size, hence why it looked better on my finger than any of the other rings. Had all those rings been in my size, I’m willing to bet it would have been significantly easier for me to determine which styles I did and did not like. As it turns out, the emerald cut multi-stone staircase setting with channeling that Ted chose for me is perfect. I can’t imagine wearing anything else.
As with ring shopping, I found the biggest issue with dress shopping was that none of the dresses fit. And it’s hard to sell yourself on such a meaningful, expensive purchase when, no matter how much you swoon over a particular dress, it just doesn’t fit you well. Sure, you know it can be hemmed, taken in, let out, and otherwise altered to fit you precisely. But I just couldn’t visualize how awesome any one dress would look once it was altered correctly. It was discouraging and made the decision-making process simply excruciating. I kept thinking after every dress “Do I like it enough?,” “Will I have dress regret?,” “What else is out there?,” “If I buy this one now, what else will I be missing out on that might be on the market in three months?,” and “I’m running out of time. Can I afford to wait that long?”
I think there’s a common misconception that wedding dress shopping is fun. Everyone finds something they love. Everyone has the “Ah ha! This is it! This is the one!” moment. But that just isn’t true. I left stores feeling disheartened and frustrated, not only because nothing fit me right, but because none of the stores carried the style of dress I had envisioned for myself. I had my heart set on some pretty specific criteria and for the most part, I wasn’t willing to compromise and conform to the popular 2010 wedding dress standards. I knew for a fact that I did not want a strapless dress and that I did not want any beading, embroidery, or sequins either. I wanted something timeless, simple, elegant, and comfortable with an interesting back design and one or two standout details. Requiring a gown with straps automatically reduced my selection by 85% and requesting minimal-to-no beading hacked out another 13%. What remained for me to inspect was a mere 2% of the store’s selection. I was lucky to find even one or two dresses in each store that I was interested in. I joked with Ted that if I couldn’t find a dress soon I’d be wearing khakis and a white sweater down the aisle, and I was actually semi-serious because it was a better solution than making myself miserable searching obsessively and unsuccessfully for the perfect dress, which by that time, I believed, was indeed still somewhere out there, being closely guarded by aliens.
When I did finally give up on being stubbornly indecisive and picked a damn dress already, it wasn’t because tears gushed forth from the eyeballs of myself and my mother as we instantly locked eyes and knew it was “the one.” Rather, it was just simply choosing the dress that matched my stringent criteria to a tee, flattered my body the best, came with a price tag that didn’t make me want to scream into a pillow, and was original enough with its cut and details that I knew I wouldn’t have to fear looking like every other 2010 bride out there. I was, and still am, happy with my choice, but arriving at it wasn’t instantaneous or a piece of perfectly coiffed fondant wedding cake. It took some pretty major sweat and tears.
Ironically, now that I’m married, I love nearly every dress out there. All of the sudden the bridal market has exploded with a vast, dazzling array of lovely non-strapless options (one shoulder, sleeveless v-neck, and sheer flutter cap sleeves), fabulously attention-grabbing details (ruffles, pockets, pleating, and rosettes), luxurious fabrics, and plenty of dresses without beading. I’m convinced that, based on my standards, tastes and expectations, were I looking for a wedding dress this season, I’d have a much easier time of it now that all the pretty things I lusted over and desperately searched for 16 months ago are now a hot commodity in the bridal fashion industry. Naturally this would be the case. I have stereotypically poor timing when it comes to coinciding and meshing my style with what the rest of the world has to offer.
How about another story? I remember prom dress shopping like it was yesterday. Seriously. I remember pouring over prom magazines at my friend’s houses and during lunch for months beforehand then excitedly packing into a vehicle early one Saturday morning with a gaggle of girls and racing to bridal & prom shops and department stores to load up on armfuls of brightly colored dresses. We bravely modeled them all, the ugly and the awesome, for one another and boldly gave our honest opinions. It was fun, but it didn’t work. Why? Because there were too many damn cooks in the kitchen and the one opinion that really mattered, your own, got lost among the well-intended advice and suggestions of everyone and their mother (literally).
I knew right from the start that I didn’t want to bring along a zoo of cheerleaders or a parade of loud and opinionated friends and family for that very reason. I wanted to go with only one or two people at most. I wanted the opinions only of those who mattered most to me and whose styles closely mirrored mine. I have never, for even a second, regretted this decision. I was confused enough with just my own jumbled thoughts tossing about inside my aching brain. I certainly would not have benefited from numerous other opinions. In fact, I sometimes felt that even the one or two opinions of my beloved family who were with me were just too much. I couldn’t see straight or think clearly when I happily cooed over a dress I liked and someone else told me they didn’t think it was very flattering, or when they gushed over a dress I couldn’t wait to scramble out of. I liked going alone and forming my own judgments that weren’t subject to anybody else’s review. Both my mom and my dad were nothing but encouraging and gave excellent advice – they nudged me along gently, giving me just the little push I needed to make a final decision without crowding me. I’d suggest this method to any future-bride out there. Please, please bring just that one special person (or two at most) with you instead of your bridal party of 15. If I’d had it my way (and if it weren’t such an apparent taboo), I’d have had Ted go dress shopping with me. His opinion was the one I wanted the most!
Now that I’ve gotten my long-winded philosophy on the art and reality of dress hunting out of the way, in tomorrow’s post I’ll show you “the dresses that weren’t.” You’ll see my top contenders, the runner-up, and why they didn’t make the cut.
