Collecting your girlfriends together, searching through magazines and ads and dog-earing "the pretty ones," then sweating profusely as you try on dress after dress, style after style, lace, satin, taffeta, a number of other fashionista terms that remain completely foreign to me... Has anyone else noticed that wedding dress shopping is basically re-living your dating life?
Mine has been precisely that. My first trip out shopping, I tried on two or three dresses before I found one I really thought was IT - THE ONE. I got sucked into the accessories they added here, touched up there, and didn't realize this was the first time I saw myself in a veil. That's where those "THE ONE" feelings came from. The consultants stood around chirping away about how it was "one of a kind" and "so beautiful on me" and "such a great deal." (You're so cute together...)
Deep down, I felt really indecisive. Deep down, I think I knew I sensed it was wrong. But it was a such a great deal. They threw the veil in for free. They sold me on "we'll clean up the imperfections, it'll be perfect for your big day." (Everything wrong will become right before you're committed to it...) Smoke, mirrors, fantastical ideations. And then reality hit.
They lied. They lied about everything. A single repair was made to the dress, and it was done so ridiculously half-assed they may as well have just left it alone. In fact, upon arrival nearly a month later than it was supposed to, the dress was in even worse shape. The beading was missing in several places, the applique was falling off, there were dirt smudges, ink stains, runs and scratches in the silk, and sweat stains under the arms. It was awful. Ruined.
I had been deceived. I was heartbroken. It took much longer than it should have to get the dress returned, back and forth with the boutique and the credit card company, being accused of lying and breaking my "contract." I searched for another dress, but half-heartedly. I had made the wrong choice before. What if I did it again? Finally, after literally three full months, the credit card company found the transaction to be fraud and the boutique refunded the money. (Read my review on Yelp here) I was finally free to make another decision.
More shopping, more trying on dresses, and rejecting them. I was running out of time and needed to make a decision. (Tick tock tick tock...) Two dresses at two different shops were in the final running. Both were very similar to an idea I had floating around in my head. I tried both on multiple times, deliberating over "taking out a layer of fluffy stuff, altering the waistline, switch out beading, add a belt," with both consultants. After taking off one of the dresses, emotionally exhausted, indecisive, feeling beat up and defeated, I bonded with a consultant over military spouse life, both of us desperately seeking a last-minute gown for an upcoming post social. Then she gave me the best advice I could have ever gotten: "If you're not sure, maybe neither one is it."
On one hand, I felt even more rushed than ever. I have not found the dress, the wedding is in six months and two weeks, and I'm running out of time. On another hand, I felt refreshed. I didn't have to decide between this dress I like that just wasn't giving me that fluttery feeling, and that dress that was quite nice but was missing something I can't put my finger on. I was freed to find THE dress - THE ONE. More shopping, more dresses, more indecision...
And then I found it. The fluttery feeling, the I can't think about anything else, the wow is this for real?
And then I found it. The fluttery feeling, the I can't think about anything else, the wow is this for real?
You'd think the battle was won, but life had just one more curve ball for me. This perfect dress I had found online. By a designer that is not very popular in the States. Only one shop in 200 mile radius carried this designer. And they might not have that particular gown. I then was immersed in a new kind of debate - Do I keep fighting for this dress, even though it's inconvenient and is a huge risk, or do I give up on it, wash my hands of this perfect dress, and hope to find one that maybe somehow could hold a candle to it?
All who know me well and have been with me on this journey over the past six years that led me to Matt are thinking this singular thought: "Whoa."
I know.
My dress journey has been a direct reflection of my dating journey. Every bump, every uncertainty, every mistake, concern, self-doubt, close call, and final leap of faith, has been, almost verbadum, my journey to finding the love of my life.
Spooky, right?
