Weddingbee Blog

Everything was going fine with the progress of my wedding dress. I drew up a design (based loosely on the Alfred Angelo 830 that I tried on), and when it came time for the first muslin fitting, I realized that I hated the dress. Panic ensued.

Well, it wasn’t really that bad. Well, maybe.

Every day on message boards, bridal resale outfits, wedding shows, etc., we see brides who simply cannot choose a dress. Some even purchase two or three. On television, a bride’s indecision is frequently edited to make her a spectacle to the audience, set up as another example of a “bridezilla” or to create some other ratings-friendly bridal drama. Sure, some of these brides are just indecisive, but I suspect that for some, the dress confusion is a symptom of some deeper, soul-stirring internal crisis, as it was for me.

When I imagined my wedding day, for a long time it was a blank spot in my mind.

I could see getting married, I could see my fiancé at the altar, and even the happy faces of our guests surrounding us. But when I imagined looking in the mirror at myself, there was a big blank hole and nothing could fill it.

I also realized that I hadn’t thought at all about what this dress would mean to me. There is a lot of discussion and critique on the symbolism of the wedding dress, but I hadn’t yet found an answer that applied to me.

I never really saw myself as the “Cinderella princess” type of bride. A “princess” can absolutely be a symbol of something else (purity, femininity, etc.) but I think many of us associate a “princess” with (if not an actual, royal princess) a character, or something that isn’t real.

Putting myself in character (a character created for little girls, natch) on my wedding day seems like an excellent way to disassociate myself fully from the entirely non-fantasy, emotionally fraught, and decidedly grown-up experience of getting married. Surely I’m not the only one who feels this way? I wonder if many of the more sophisticated wedding dresses we’ve seen in the past few years have been direct responses to this narrative.

Some of these dresses are very “sexy”. I knew I did not want to look deliberately sexy on my wedding day. I believe sexiness comes from within, and as a large-busted person, I wanted at least one day where I looked beautiful but did not have any parts on prominent display. I did not see my wedding as a day to assert my womanhood in that particular way, although it should go without saying that I have nothing against those who feel differently about it than I do.

I have always liked the idea of the “timeless” looking, classic bride, since I’m not really into trendy things. But even knowing this wasn’t enough to help me choose a dress.

The only idea that’s ever truly resonated with me is the one that says that on my wedding day, I should be myself at my most beautiful. A bride’s beauty has been used for hundreds of years as a metaphor or symbol of beauty at its most exuberant, joyful, and hopeful.

But here was my problem, and, for me, the only way out of this panic. Sure, I could have driven all over Texas in hopes of trying on a few more dresses. But it wouldn’t have worked. That blank hole in my mind needed to be filled by my own definition of bridal beauty, and I had none.

So here I was, having a dress crisis, with a week left to finish the muslin before starting the dress. A week! How would I possibly pull this off? We’ll see… part two will be up tomorrow.

What type of bride do you see yourself as? Princess? Sophisticated? Sexy? Classic? Something else?