I spent Saturday with Caitlin sorting through a jungle of white fluff encapsulated in crunchy bags. We would wade through the aisles pulling on bags in the $99 Sample Sale at the fancy bridal salon, and then later at David's Bridal the Walmart of bridal salons. Wedding dresses are poofy. "Oh is that the style?" my mother asks, hell if I know. The only style I have observed is that of the poof, the strapless, and the tiara.
I have to thank Caitlin for spending the entire day sorting through the white, the tulle, the rockcandy beady dresses, interrupted only by some (mediocre at best) Mexican and a horrible terrible mumbly complainy waiter.
So if for some reason you are reading this and you don't know me here is the background. I am 5'9" tall. I am fairly thin. All wedding consultants work on commission. They say things like, "Oh my god, you look gorgeous in that" "That looks perfect on you" and "That dress is new and I have been dying to see someone try it on, it is gorgeous/perfect/blaka-blook-a-dee" (thanks Caitlin)
Meanwhile (as Caitlin has dubbed them) a bevy of "Suzy average bride" accompanied by mom look on as they try on VERY WHITE, bedazzled and trained dresses that are so heavy I am sure you need to climb into them. They stand on the raised carpet covered circlets in front of mirrors as bridal consultants swarm around them and bring crowns and tiaras and tulle to finish off the cake.
I thought I wanted a simple dress but I don't think they actually exist. And the ones I have tried on are shiny and make me feel like "Hi, I'm Calpurnia you know Julius Caesar's wife. Hold on I'll be right with you, let me just grab my olive leaf headpiece and strappy sandals."
I am so not a wedding person, though I do look forward to the wedding as much as I do any good party. I also don't expect anything I do, plan or choose to be entirely groundbreaking. I don't care about being one of a kind, I mean it is a wedding, I will be wearing a whitish dress, there will be my dad and some type of aisle, our friends and family eating catering chicken and drinking from the open bar. I mean it can't be that bad, but I am certainly not planning on hanging a 18"x24" glossy with fuzzy photoshopping (to make it dreamsicle) anywhere in my future apartments. So I don't really care to try to make the white dress prepackaged event into the celebrity wedding of the year. When I think back on how much I recall from the 8 weddings I've attended in the last 7 years, I really think that I don't remember much past the dancing and the appetizers, so I know what to make stand out. cheesy poofs and cool music of course.
Finally, I was talking to Michael on the phone today and reviewing my rant on dresses etc. He actually asked me how I am going to wear my hair. I told him I am growing it out because according to the bride magazines and websites you are not allowed to have short hair when you get married. Then I asked him how he would be wearing his hair. I mean for real. I think maybe I will break down and get it cut at a salon. woohoo. give up my art girl haircut that has arisen only through my impoverished student life that requires a bottle of wine over a haircut any day. for my wedding. sure