.dress mess diaries, part 2.

This is Part 2 in a series of blogs about dress shopping.... this really should have been part 1. Oops.

Your dress. It becomes the focal point of any wedding and sets the tone for the entire event. Short, flowy cocktail dress equals a light, fun, casual affair. Cathedral length train, poufy skirt equals a more formal affair. The mothers shouldn’t even think about attire until you pick your dress. Bridesmaids? Nope, they have to wait too… it is all focused around the dress. It is no wonder we girls spends days, hours and up to thousands of dollars on The One. The dress becomes the new “The One”; your fiancé is no longer your number one “the one”. Ok, I don’t really mean that… but you know the feeling you had when you first realized that he was your “the one”….think, think….ok that is how you should feel in the dress.

I remember when I realized Flo was my “the one”… it was my birthday party, 2008. he stopped by my party before driving off to his birthday ski weekend. Yes, we almost share a birthday; his is a day before mine. I walked him out to his car and as I was smooching him and wishing him a great weekend it hit me. It hit me so hard that I almost said it out loud to him. Surely, it would have been forgiven… I had bottles of Perrier Jouet served at my party… Could you even imagine? We had been dating literally, a week…. Ask Flo this question and his answer will differ. He isn’t sure when it hit him, but as long as it hit him it is all good!

When dress shopping, I expected the same result- BAM! I am the ONE. THE dress. Here I am. Buy me. Unlike with finding the perfect man, finding the perfect dress is more of a challenge. One would think that living in Vegas would make for a more challenging obstacle in finding a man who fits, rather than a dress that fits.

I admit, I made a critical error when dress shopping. My heart fell in love with a dress before I ever had a dress budget. Oh and before I ever had an engagement ring. You see, one afternoon I was going to get fitted for a bridesmaid’s dress when curiosity got the best of me and convinced by friends and my lack of conscience, that it would be OK to try on dresses. I knew that my relationship was gliding down the path toward forever-dom, but still hadn’t been officially asked. And I am now paying the price, literally. It wasn’t what I pictured myself in. Ever. It wasn’t a halter, it wasn’t sheathy, and it was simply stunning. The dress spoke for itself. So did the price. Ouch. Let’s just say this: it was typical for a couture gown, I just wasn’t sure that I was ready for a couture wallet. I’m big on looking beautiful and feeling even more beautiful. What I am not big on is paying for that beauty. Unfortunately, no coupons will ever be accepted for this stunning gown.

I tried forgetting about it, but my fingers kept typing the designers name into google with a “comma sale” typed after it. My fingers even figured out how to type her name, sale into eBay! There it is! For a reasonable “BUY NOW!” price. The bustle on my dress came when my mom visited and I was proposed to and can now legally search for a dress. It was the last one I tried on for her. Adorned in the sample veil, the dressing room curtain peeled back, I lifted up my head, smiled and walked out onto the platform box. Grab the tissues because mom started to cry! Yup, tears. That must be a good sign. Tears never filled my eyes in this dress; just a breathless “wow” is all I could ever muster. Of course, I struck my best pose, head over the shoulder look in the mirror. Visualized myself with some fabulous shoes walking down the aisle. Visualized our first dance in this fabulous frock…I even pictured wearing it to a charity gala that Flo and I may one day attend when he takes over the world of weather in NYC. (that last part was all a dream.)

There was no way this dress could ever be knocked out of first place. Or could it? Fast forward to NYC, March 2009. I made some bridal appointments so that my mother, my sister and I could go into the City and try on some dresses. It was merely for the novelty- I had already found THE ONE and just wanted to give the three of us that experience of gown shopping, together. We walked into Kleinfeld and it was somewhat like buying a used vehicle. Or shopping at Target, except bigger, more elegant. Our sales phenom, Diane, pulled dresses as if she were my BFF for years—she ended pulling one that knocked miss first place off of her fitting pedestal. Price tag? Oh yea, it had one. It was even more than miss first place. Sigh.