I stood at the foot of the bed, debating aloud what to wear to work. Brian gave feedback that was actually appreciated; he's got a good eye for this type of thing. His suggestions were sound, and would result in a very nice look for the day...but on the other edge of the bed, I had laid an entirely different outfit.
"See? This is the whole problem!" I shouted in frustration. Brian gave me a sympathetic grimace. I was holding both outfits in my hands: in the left, an ephemeral blue printed skirt made from an upcycled sari, so light that I had to wear a slip; in the right, a red plaid tank top, part of a punk rocker ensemble I bought from a Hallowe'en store on clearance. "How the hell am I ever going to find a dress when I am clearly two people stuck in the same body?"
I bought a new wedding book on the weekend, and it has been both a blessing and a curse. It's call The Offbeat Bride, and there's a website, too, if you like. The writer, Ariel Meadow Stallings, is someone I want immediately to meet and be friends with. Her desire to provide a meticulous wedding wedsite (ugh, cutsie names), her insane-in-a-good-way wedding dress, and her opinions on almost everything bridal, are so very much mirrored by my own. Her book is fantastic, in that she is encouraging brides to be themselves and not feel smothered in wedding lore and expectation. I bought it after browsing the Offbeat Bride website for about two minutes. I can't put it down.
So on the positive side, this book is giving me plenty of encouragement to be my non-traditional self. This is wonderful, and I really needed it. On the other hand, I am more afraid than ever that I am allowing my (and Bri's) senses of self to be swallowed up by the often-outdated concept of what a wedding should end up looking like. The book has renewed my conviction that I am committed to my soup-can-as-candle-holder project, and other DIY-looking, punky elements. It has, however made me worried that I've started to settle in certain areas...especially the dress.
Ariel did a lot of research in writing her book, and turns out, plenty of brides don't wear white. I mean, I know that other cultures don't always wear white, and I know that even the 'Anglo-Saxon' tradition is only about 200 years old. But I'm not talking about colourful dresses stemming from ethnic traditions or an insistence on a pre-Victorian dress: I mean, there are plenty of women right now, wearing dresses of all types, walking down the aisle, wearing colours like red, grey, blue, and...sigh...my coveted green.
Ariel's own dress was green, or at least parts of it. To hear her describe the dress without presenting a photo, I found myself picturing this image of a fairy from A Midsummer's Night Dream gone evil. Tulle, and a corset, and colour, and fun. I suddenly found myself demanding to know, just when did I get on the big white dress train (no pun intended)?
I threw myself on the bed and rubbed my face into Bri's shoulder. "You're going to look so beautiful no matter what you were, J; you're always sexy," he said, sweet boy that he is.
"That's not the problem, Bri," I whined, "It's that I want to look like so many different things. And the dress is so symbolic. And I want to be elegant, but also fun...I want to be ele-fun." We laughed at the new word. But it fits.
I calmed down a bit and went to work. I checked over my wedding to-do list, and saw my idea notes on dresses. So far, the white dresses I had considered had not been outside my original vision too much. The only change was that I'd originally pictured an empire-waisted, slinky hippy-like dress, but now I was really excited about the idea of oodles of tulle. Not because it's traditional: because we're going to muck it up and dye it green or something, and hot glue little rhinestones all in it. and pair it with cowboy boots for the aisle walk, and amazing hand-painted Figgie shoes (more on this later) for the dancing. I pictured one of the 1950s inspired dresses I have been looking at, done with a green sash, green petticoat/crinoline, sparkles, and green fabric-covered buttons going down my back. The tongue-in-cheek tradition that I feel comfortable with. Because I do so very much love a theme, and so I'll dress to match the occasion (white); but because I'm never quite what one expects, I'll bedazzle the thing and pair it with a necklace made of mini skulls or something.
I mentioned, in a comment, the first designer I'd found who makes 50s style wedding dresses; I have since found a second. This gives me hope, and a sense of connection with other brides out there: I'm not the only one with a love of the vintage and a distaste for the hyper-Victorian dresses. (Mind you, the olive green one I've been offered has been food for thought...more on this later, too.)
And I have time. Due to the new wedding date, I have 60 days less than originally estimated, but I do still have 2-3 months to figure this out, before I get into rough spots with ordering and delivery timelines. And hey, if the right dress comes to me through a local shop, off the rack, or from a former bride, then I'm golden.
I am, however, more committed than ever that I will feel totally awesome and 'me' as I stomp my way down that aisle in riding or cowboy boots, a kickass dress, and my darling waiting for me at the altar.
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