All in all, the dress buying experience ended up being very calm, yet just special enough. I knew from the get-go that I would not have "a moment." For one, I'm not "a moment" kind of girl. I rarely cry at movies, and I never cry at clothes. But I did want to feel confident at the end of it that I'd found a dress that was thoroughly me and right for the style of our wedding.
We did the dress shopping very early — more than a year before our wedding. Knowing that I wouldn't have an all-or-nothing, fainting on the floor, ugly-crying moment, I was afraid that I would be indecisive. I get a little clammy when I have to write our rent check every month, so blowing that kind of cash (cash that isn't even mine) on a dress was dread-inducing. So when the stars aligned and Alex's mom would be coming to visit around the same time that my mom was still on the Cape and my best friend/MoH, Sierra, still hadn't gone back to teaching in Florida, I carped the diem.
The first bizarre thing that non-brides might not know about wedding dress shopping is that you have to have appointments to go shopping. Chew on that one for a second. To walk into a store and try to spend thousands of dollars, one must make an appointment. Moreover, these appointments need to be made (apparently) much more than a few weeks in advance if you want to shop on a weekend. Oops.
I got turned down by several of the stores where I tried to make appointments — booked solid. But I did discover one boutique, called Lovely Bride, that carried the price range and designers I was interested in. I also made an appointment at a specific designer's boutique, Saja, and made tentative plans to stop by Lord & Taylor to check out their bridal department (they didn't require appointments, so I think that makes L&T the Wal-Mart or Sears of weddings).
We started at Lovely Bride where I was paired with an awesome consultant, Taylor, and she politely seated my posse, and then the two of us explored the store alone, digging into the specifics of what I loved about each style. I was going for something vintage-inspired and classic. Nothing overtly jaw-dropping or sexy. Something that was timelessly beautiful. She pulled maybe a dozen dresses ranging from something '50s-appropriate to gorgeous party dresses. As soon as I started trying them on, I realized the most modest, old-fashioned styles just didn't feel special enough. They were gorgeous and exactly like what I'd seen in the inspiration weddings (read: wedding porn). But they weren't me.
I came thisclose to buying a floor-length, fitted number covered in beading and fabric that made it look like I was covered in millions of tiny butterflies. It was possibly one of the most flattering and comfortable dresses I've ever put on. Unfortunately, it didn't fulfill the requirement of "right for the style of our wedding." It eventually came down to three styles that I really liked and that someone else in the room lurved. I snapped my pics of the three contenders, and headed out the door. I was going to need to crowd-source the decision a little further (though, I'll confess, one did capture my attention more than the others).
We went on to Saja, where the dresses were lovely, but were all a little too pajama-like for me, and the Lord & Taylor, where they'd actually recently closed down the bridal department (oops), and we got on with our weekend. I showed off the three favorites to some of my most trusted girlfriends and got an overwhelming vote in favor of the one I'd secretly favored.
I made another appointment at Lovely. By myself. Taylor pulled all three styles again (plus the butterfly dress, just because she knew I loved it so much), but I only wanted to try on one. I made up my mind. There was no crying, no moment, no definitiveness, but I looked at myself in the mirror and thought, will I love this dress looking back on it in 10, 20, 30 years? Would I feel good about offering it as an option for my own daughter? What will my grandkids think when they look at my wedding pictures? (Answer: "Grammy was hot! And kind of a badass!")
It's not vintage. It's hardly slutty, but it's not exactly modest. It's got more sparkle than I'd planned for. But that's also what makes it so very, very me. It's the dress I never would have picked out for myself, and exactly the dress I want to wear at my wedding.
