As you know (if you read this Blog) I despise reality TV. But, I have seen ads for a show called, "Say Yes to the Dress." Just from the ads I saw, it involves a lethal combination of divas and their search for a weddings dress. Talk about drama.
And, I cannot decide which would be more annoying, the episode following the southern girl with her mother in tow trying to make sure she chose some gown that involved a hoop skirt, cathedral train, and required a cadre of young girls to keep it perfectly aligned as she glides down the aisle like a float in the Tournament of Roses parade.
Or, the girl from Staten Island, whose voice would rip wallpaper clean off the wall, who states right up front, she likes sexy and bling as she shakes her long bleached tresses from her face. Spare me.
Saturday I went with my daughter for the fitting of her wedding gown. The store, or rather I should say boutique, is in Charleston and specializes in upscale designer gowns and the owner, Sara, takes very good care of her customers. The appointment ahead of us was running a little late, so I took that time to look through the racks of gowns. The styles have changed a lot since the days of my proventional gown. In fact, thinking back on it, comparatively speaking, my gown now looks like something out of a bad opera before the fat lady sang. These gowns were breathtaking. Well, most were. Some, were a little over the top (after all, one has to cater to the divas.)
My daughter pulled one out covered with what looked like taffeta pedals on the skirt. "This is the gown Hugh Hefner's bride wore last month." "The same one?" "Yes, the exact same dress by the same designer?" Who knew? "And, this gown is real popular and usually sells for $9,000, but you can get it here for a little over 3." She continued pulling out gowns, some that were exquisite, others not so much. Then Sara came and let us know they were ready for her.
The gown she has chosen is elegant and breathtaking. I had seen a picture of it, but that did not do it justice. And, it looked like it was made for her. After some discussion, the seamstress pinned the bottom of the dress and the bustle. The seamstress finished. Sara was discussing the date the dress would be ready and then she asked if there was anything else she could do. I spoke up, "It's just too bad, you don't carry mother of the bride dresses." She smiled and said, "Oh, I have something that you might like." And, she reached behind her and pulled out a deep purple long dress.
My heart sank. "No, I'm afraid, I need something short." "OK," and she quickly went to the front of the shop and returned with a short blue strapless number. "I love the color. And, it is dupioni silk, which is what I am looking for, but it is strapless," I said very disappointingly. "Oh, it doesn't have to be strapless. Try it on, I'll show you."
When I came out and looked in the mirror she came up behind me and took, what I thought was the back sash and quickly wrapped it around my shoulders twice and tied it in the back. Suddenly, I was looking at a dress that came off my shoulders with elegant front and a fussy bow in the back. "Wow, I love it. But, are you coming out to Edisto that night to dress me?" "Oh, it's easy, I'll show you." Yeah, I thought, that's what my Daddy told me the first time I tried to tie my shoes at the age of three.
"What other colors, does it come in?" She pulled out another dress just like it in a light peach. (Sara was truly a magician pulling these colored dresses out of racks of white and ivory.) "I like that." "Anything but that blue," my daughter said. "Why?" "Because that blue is a mother of the bride color if I have ever seen one." A fate worse than death. "Well, I guess that will not do."
"No problem," Sara said as she pulled out a color card and opened it. This just got complicated - there were a good hundred or so color swatches. After a long discussion of "This peach has more orange than that one", "No you cannot wear red." "This green is too green for April", "Copper may do, but it is really a fall color", - we all settled on a deep peach.
Done and done - say, yes to the dress, without the drama.