Bridal Salon
"Wow. This is really weird."
I went to Macy's bridal salon with Annie last Saturday night to try on wedding dresses. I'd made the appointment because dressmaker Demetrios was having a trunk show, and the store was offering a 20 percent discount on dresses purchased this weekend. The saleswoman assigned to help me find and try on dresses scolded me for coming in "so late." The dresses sold at this boutique generally take 4-6 months to be made and delivered, she explained, and dresses ordered now aren't expected to arrive until mid-April.
Because of that time constraint, she steered me toward the 2005 collection, rather than the newest dresses. I explained to her what I wanted -- nothing too frou-frou, iffy on strapless, the simpler the better -- and she pulled out sample dresses from myriad racks. With several dresses in hand, she set me up in a dressing room, where I pondered which mountain of tulle to tackle first.
I finally decided to try on a sleeveless, v-neck number with a small train and embroidery around the neckline. I first tried to step into the dress, but the size 10 sample dress didn't agree with my wider hips, so I tried plan b: Pull the dress over my head. The result was that I had the dress on, but the myriad underskirts had gotten all tangled up around my thighs, and I jumped up and down in place in an attempt to shake the skirts into place. Then the second challenge: My dress, being much too small for me, wouldn't zip up in the back. Holding the back flaps in place with one hand behind my back, I chatted with Annie outside the door to my dressing room until the saleswoman returned, a piece of white fabric and four plastic clothespins in hand. Within seconds, she'd clipped up the back of my dress so that the white fabric covered up the gap between the zippers and I could walk out to the front room and check myself out in the mirrors. The saleswoman came back over with a fingertip-length veil for me to try on, and the "bride" was complete.
It was so weird to see myself in the mirror wearing the full "bride" regalia. I felt like I was looking at another person. And her face was bright red with nervous embarrassment.
The next several dress try-outs followed the same routine: Pull the dress over my head, jump and jostle the skirts into place, get the back of the dress pinned up and check myself out in the mirror in the front room as the saleswoman cooed over how pretty I looked.
Everything became kind of a blur, but there were a couple standout dresses, including a strapless asymmetrical dress with a nifty lace-up back that I decided I didn't like even before the saleswoman had finished lacing me into the dress (though I liked the corsety feel of it) and a floofy, flouncy dress with big fabric flowers on the skirt that reminded me of something out of A Midsummer Night's Dream -- even the salesoman, who had complimented me on every dress, admitted upon seeing it that this poofy number didn't really look like me.
I did find one dress that I adored, but I couldn't justify the price tag ($880 after the discount, but then tack on $100 or more for "rush fees"). "I only get married once!" can go only so far as an enabler. At some point I have to be practical and keep in mind that I only get married once. And I'd much rather put my hard-earned freelance monies toward the honeymoon (or saving for a house/condo!) than a dress I'll never wear again.
I've made an appointment at a David's Bridal in Tucson for when I'm home for the Christmas holiday. Hopefully I'll find what I'm looking for there ... and it'll be as it should be, with my mom and sister and bridesmaids there to offer advice and share the day.
