weddingrisk

A brief preface: My parents got married in Friendly Park in Greensboro, North Carolina (they had intended to have a sunset ceremony but the bus got lost) and had their reception at the original Durham Arts Council (which is now a private school). In lieu of a wedding cake, they had wheels of cheese that my dad’s mom brought from Wisconsin, and the main event was a rock band (”they…played using a couple of different names” says my dad. “We don’t really know what they were calling themselves,” adds my mom). 1970s North Carolina anecdote: The cops showed up because there were interracial couples dancing (horrifying, isn’t it?). As the story goes, my parents enlisted a friend with a posh Southern accent to deal with them and the party continued unhindered. My mother’s wedding dress was a long hippie 70s number (she and my dad both had waist length hair when they married).

It was in the spirit of bucking the big white dress that mom and I went on what we were calling a “fact finding mission” to David’s Bridal, which is conveniently located in a strip mall in Durham. We were chatting on the way over about how I would probably end up with a vintage dress, or a dress that’s not specifically intended for weddings, or getting a dress made, but that it would be productive to get an idea of what styles looked good and what various terminology meant.

When we walked into the store, we were immediately greeted by a perky woman seated behind a long table that effectively blocked us from entering the rest of the store. “Hi!” she trilled, “how can we help you?” When we told her that I was interesting to looking at wedding dresses she said, “do you have an appointment?” (Note: For David’s Bridal? Why?) when we said that we did not, she looked slightly furrowed but told us that they’d try to work us in. “Here’s our catalog, feel free to look around, but please don’t touch the dresses.” After we paged through the look book, we wandered up and down aisles of white dresses entombed in bulky plastic garment bags.

“Tacky!” I kept mouthing at my mother.

“Gross,” she agreed.

But we decided to stick it out, nonetheless.

After about half an hour, a petite and tan girl strode up to me and announced that she was my bridal consultant. I gave her my measurements and was summarily led over to a Wall O’ Dye-able Shoes. “Pick your style,” she prompted. I took a pair of vintage looking heels. “Wow” came the response. “That was fast!”

Next I was led into a small dressing room containing a slip, a ridiculous bustier (nothankyou), and a crinoline fit for a Disney princess.

“Here’s your first dress,” said my bridal consultant, “let me know if you need any help.”

Briefly, the set up for this place is like a slightly more private communal dressing room. There’s a tiny private stall where you wiggle into your dress, but you have step out to a centralized seating area with little rounds (for twirling on, one presumes) and full length mirrors in order to see what the dress actually looks like on. Since I was pretty much raised in Loehmann’s, I didn’t mind this set up. It felt rather democratic. When we were there, a beleaguered father of a bride-to-be had tucked into a chair next to my mother and was snoring fervently. This chagrined the DB staff, but made the experience that much more amusing for us.

Trying on the dresses led to a series of revelations:

1. Wedding dresses are best appraised and better appreciated one at a time, separated from the billowing herd.

2. DB wedding consultants are actually able to engage with a wide range of tastes and aesthetics. Mine was totally wonderful, provided great suggestions (including offering up The Dress for me to try on), did not smother, and kept thanking me for being so fun and easy to work with

3. I was wrong about everything except for the color (I’m far too pale to swath myself in bright white, this we all knew for sure)

It was actually a lot of fun to get feedback from other future brides and their families.

I tried on maybe five dresses and we all (me, my mom, the bridal consultant, other people in the store) fell in love with one of them. No one is more surprised than I (except maybe my mom) that I found my wedding dress in couple of hours at David’s Bridal.

Additionally surprising, there is a veil and a sash involved; I had previously eschewed both.

Bonus: Everything was on sale (my most favorite way to shop!).

The dress and it’s accouterments are at my parents’ house where they have been modeled for teary fathers (and grandfathers) and grinning friends. It is lovely.