Wedding Blog

Part 1
Part 2

At this point, it was feeling more like the quest for my wedding dress was equivalent to searching for the Holy Grail, but I knew that I had to find something that I loved. One day on a whim, I went to the classifieds section of Weddingbee and did a search for a bridal gown in my size. I had tried enough sample size dresses to know what size I fit in “wedding dress world”, which is essentially 2 sizes bigger than in the real world (um, what happened to vanity sizing?).

I scrolled through page upon page of gowns, when all of a sudden, I found one that might be plausible. It was a couture dress that a girl had bought as a sample. She was now considering a beach wedding, and had purchased three separate dresses for her wedding in her search for her dress. (Obviously, a girl after my own heart!) She needed to sell the two she wasn’t wearing, so she was listing them at a reduced rate. I emailed her and got more pictures of the gown. And it was absolutely gorgeous. Every time I looked at it, I loved it. Still, I was nervous about buying something sight unseen (and not tried on!). What if it didn’t fit? What if she was a scam artist, selling me a box of sand and not a wedding dress? I talked to my Momma French Fries and Mr. French Fries (who both should be considered for sainthood after all of this) and they both said the same thing: that if I loved it and was sure it was the final dress, my wedding dress, that I should order it.

Throughout my wedding dress shopping, I continually second guessed myself.

Mr. French Fries… this is your exit. Do not scroll down, do not pass “Go”, do not collect $200. Vamoose!

I didn’t want people to think that my dress was ridiculous. That I was being too fantastical. That my pictures would look stupid in 10, 15, 20 years. That I looked like a little girl playing dress up. I didn’t want them to not approve. What I lost in all of this, though, was what I thought, and what I wanted.

I sat in front of the computer debating about the dress on the screen in front of me. Do I buy it, sight unseen? What if the pictures were fake and the dress had 1/2 of a train? What if, what if, what if…

The only thing I knew was that my stomach did flip-flops whenever I looked at the pictures. It was just so pretty. No, wait… it was just so gorgeous. It literally made my jaw drop open when I first saw it. I attempted to let the idea percolate for a while and went to eat dinner. My attempt at distracting myself was futile. I couldn’t stop thinking about the dress. What if, what if, what if…

I wandered back into the computer room and looked at the dress again. It was just as I had remembered. A little bit different — definitely not the dress that everyone wears down the aisle. But absolutely beautiful. Or, as Rachel Zoe would say, “Shutting. It. Down. I die.” (Any other Rachel Zoe fans out there?!?)

Here she is, in all of her dropped-waist, dupioni silk, multi-layered beauty. She is a Justina McCaffrey, and the style is “Cossette”.

Source

I knew what I had to do… and I emailed the seller, telling her that I would like to buy the gown. One nervous tummy, a few rounds of negotiation, and a money order later, the dress had been purchased. I anxiously awaited its arrival, and checked its shipping status somewhat obsessively. I calculated that my newly purchased frock weighed upwards of 12.5 pounds. Twelve and a half pounds, people. To say that I wondered what I had gotten myself into is an understatement.

The day that it was scheduled to arrive, it rained. No matter that it hadn’t rained much so far this summer — it was steadily raining that morning. I worried about coming home to a soaked cardboard box on our front porch, the dress inside ruined (no matter that our porch is completely covered). I worried that UPS wouldn’t leave the box on our porch because of the rain. I worried just to worry. I left work and anxiously drove home. When I had last checked, the dress hadn’t been delivered yet, but when I arrived home, there it was. Sitting on our porch, a gigantic brown cardboard box — completely untouched by rain.

I parked my car and struggled inside the front door (they weren’t kidding about that 12.5 pound shipping weight). I let both of our puppies outside to entertain themselves for a while, and took the box into the spare room that has now become wedding central. To give you an idea of the size of the box, here it is in all of its glory:

It’s pretty much the entire length of the bed. Please excuse the cutesy spare bedroom comforter.

I carefully cut open the packing tape. Inside was the matching veil, wrapped in tissue paper. I unwrapped this first, as it was the least intimidating. I knew that I would probably like the veil — I mean, it’s a veil. Not much to it. I didn’t know the length, however (fingertip, elbow, cathedral, etc.). I opened it up, and much to my delight — it was cathedral length, exactly what I wanted. Simple, elegant. I took this to be a good sign.

Next, I carefully lifted the gown out of the box. I unzipped the zipper on the garment bag and looked at the dress — my wedding dress — for the first time. Remember that jaw-dropping open thing? Yeah. It happened again. I lifted the gown out (all 12.5 pounds of it) and looked at it more closely. The silk was exquisite, and, for being a sample, there was barely a mark on it. I was amazed. I set it on the floor (um, and by “set it on the floor” I do mean “stood it up on the floor, because there’s enough crinoline under the skirt for it to stand up on its own) and changed into it. I was nervous that it wouldn’t fit, that the zipper wouldn’t go up all of the way, that my hips wouldn’t fit… the whole nine yards. The zipper went up easily, and I had room to spare. I turned around and looked at myself in the mirror.

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.” I couldn’t manage any other words. I kept saying those same three words over and over. I didn’t tear up, I didn’t cry. My mind went blank as my eyes scanned over every detail of the dress. I turned around and looked at it from the back. I felt a tightness in my chest, and just for good measure, let out another, “oh my god.” And all of a sudden it hit me: it was perfect. I loved it. Every part of it — I didn’t want to change a thing. I could see myself walking down the aisle in it. I could see myself dancing with in it with Mr. French Fries at the reception. I guess this was my moment of knowing that it was “the one”.

It might not be everyone’s cup of tea. I understand that. What I do know is that it works for me, and I’m the one that’s going to be wearing it. It’s going to be “the most photographed piece of clothing that I will ever wear”. While that phrase once made me sick with worry, it now makes me excited — I can’t wait to wear it on the day that I become Mr. French Fries’ wife.

It makes me feel beautiful. Which, after all of this, is exactly what I was looking for in the first place.