I feel like you could all use an update on my dress. It has changed, morphed, altered, and been abandoned so many times over the last ten months. I started off seeking a green dress, and when I found green dresses, I didn’t like them. I wanted lace, but found nothing lacey that didn’t seem to weight three hundred pounds. I sought vintage, but found it out-of-reach. And if you recall, my gown was found quite by accident, while trying on yet another round of white whales (my word for gowns that are grandiose, white, and make you feel ten times wider than you actually are); there, amongst the bridesmaids gowns, was the little dress that could: a demure strapless number with taffeta flowers along the hem. I took the leap, and despite only seeing the dress in black, I ordered it in ivory. I got it on sale, and I paid less than I ever thought possible (about 260.00).
It came in, and I put it on, and I didn’t feel any tears sting my eyes, nor did I swoon or squeal with joy. In fact, when I put it on, I just felt an overwhelming sense of…calm. Rare, during this crazy wedding project, and more reassuring than any emotional outburst would have been. It was wrinkled and mussed, but I didn’t panic; two steamings later, with some careful work by our seamstress Judy Ruggles, it fell in playful pleats to the knee, and all it needed now was, well, about 6 hours of handiwork. This led to many occasions of panic, and I routinely convinced myself I had the wrong dress, as I had to wait for each little detail to come together.
I spent about a month hating my dress after seeing Kate Middleton’s dress. How unfair that she should find a dress that literally embodied every detail, silhouette, and aspect I had sought for months. Brian pointed out that our budgets were just a tad different, but that didn’t really help. I found that Kate’s dress had taken up residence in my mind as the ideal dress, and it was hard to budge it. Nevertheless, I went to work on tailoring my dress into something I would love.
I began by strategically laying out the many buttons that had been given to us by blog readers and freecyclers. Layering the buttons, all orange and green, I carefully sewed them into the centres of each taffeta floret, then crazy-glued more buttons on top of each one. Many hours later, I had a dress that was starting to take shape. I now waited eagerly for the piece de resistance: the crinoline.
A wonderful artisan named Ann, owner of the Etsy shop SwankUnderpinnings, offered to make the crino, in a fresh apple green that would be my compromise to myself: if I couldn’t have a lovely green dress, I could have a white dress with a killer green crinoline. Ann made the treasure and sent it our way, and to my utter despair, the colour was too bright. This, I’m sure, sounds like an anal-retentive ‘bride moment’, but I mean that the crino literally glowed green through my dress. I put on the ensemble for a coworker to give her opinion, and she gently suggested that I hide my skirt under the tablecloth all night. As that was not the point of having the crino, I consulted with both Ann and seamstress Judy for advice. In the end, Judy saved the day with some crino wizardry, and this weekend past I finally got to see my dress stuffed full of perfect apple green tulle. I was so happy to be able to save Ann’s crino, as her workmanship is beyond spectacular; and I was so glad we had Judy to help, as I had utter trust in her abilities to help.
On Saturday, I slipped on my dress, ivory and bedecked in buttons. I pulled on the crinoline, nebulous and soft and hemmed in a stripe of green. I encircled my neck with Morganna the White’s gifted necklace, and put on my self-made bracelet and button earrings. I slid my peacock fascinator into my hair, made by the venerable Kate of Flights of Fancy, and I pulled on my brown cowboy boots, the first big gift Brian ever gave me. I stood in front of the mirror, and my aisle-walk song came on, and I found myself grinning foolishly and dancing around the living room, picturing the glowing smile on Brian’s face as I came down that long walkway. I pictured my sweet dad, proud to know both me and Brian, with his arm held out to me. I felt fully clad in…armour is the wrong word, but the right concept. The perfect getup for slaying wedding day nerves, the perfect gown for presenting myself to my chosen mate. I slipped one more detail on, a thin sash of apple green rick-rack that I tied around my waist, and suddenly I felt perfect. Kate Middleton’s overworked frock no longer interested me, and I felt like no other dress had ever stood a chance against this one.
Brian texted at that very moment, asking, “What r u up to?” I wrote back, “I am in my dress and I am happy and dancing around the living room.” It was such a long road, to finding a dress that made me feel comfortable: like a shinier, braver version of myself…a dress that made me feel the way Brian makes me feel, actually. A dress worthy of getting married to my lifelong partner in.
Brian came home that night from his bachelor party—a day full of ridiculous amounts of fun—and I asked him what his favourite part of the day was. “Getting that text from you,” he said, “And hearing that you were dancing around in your dress. That was my favourite part of the day.”
This and other reasons why I’m marrying the man.
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