Weddingbee Blog

I’m trying to figure out the timing on my wedding, and I’m looking for a little guidance.

New York is supposed to be the city where everything is available, regardless of time or season. But what about dresses for mothers? Why is everything either naked or covered in sequins/buttons/epaulets/braid? My mother doesn’t want to look like a drum majorette, or worse, a bellhop. She doesn’t like satin. She won’t wear anything without sleeves. And above all, she needs something COMFORTABLE. Nothing that requires a 60 year old woman to wear a bustier qualifies as comfortable. So, what to do?

Mr. Caterpillar’s mama devised a neat solution to the dress issue — she avoided it all together. Mama Caterpillar is not your average mama. She’s a painter, played soccer for 30 years, and can make a perfect souffle without a recipe. Clearly, she would never be caught dead in a bellhop outfit. So, what did she do? She went straight to her favorite designer and picked out a few pieces. Voila!

She’s wearing a combination of things from the Spring/Summer 2006 collection of Dries Van Noten. See picture at top — Brilliant!

Bridesmaids’ dresses don’t need to come from bridal houses, and mothers’ dresses shouldn’t either. While wandering 5th Avenue yesterday, I noticed some really beautiful suits at St. John, which would be gorgeous on my mom — the jacket provides full coverage, and the elastic waistband on the pants would meet the requisite comfort standard.

The wedding is the perfect opportunity for my (otherwise very practical) mother to splurge on something really nice for herself. Maybe I’ll point her in the direction of Chanel . . . .

Mr. Caterpillar is probably the leanest man on earth — he’s the Hedi Slimane hipster ideal at 6′2″ and 160ish pounds. When he goes to the gym, he’ll run on the treadmill effortlessly for a hour at almost 10 miles an hour.

I, on the other hand, tend to avoid the gym and running and treadmills at all costs. My rule was “only run if you have to,” and “have to” was limited to situations involving wild animals and being chased and knowing you were going to be EATEN rather than just mauled a little. So, when Mr. Caterpillar suggested we start running around Central Park Reservoir, I was somewhat disinclined. I had to, you know, clean the toilet or get my teeth scaled or something. But, eventually we made it out there.

(The idea that I would have to wear a satin wedding dress with serious lumpiness magnifying qualities was probably some motivation.)

The first day, I ran about 5 feet. Then stopped. I think it was a heart attack. Mr. Caterpillar thought it was 29 years of Filet-O-Fishes coming back to haunt me.

The next time, I ran about 10 feet. Then stopped, thinking a lung had collapsed.

This stopping and starting continued for about 12 weeks.

But today? I actually made it around the whole reservoir with nary an organ malfunction. I can’t believe it either. So, this is the beginning of my wedding exercise program. I will run around the reservoir every other day until I can run around it every day. If anyone would like to join me, just let me know.

PS: The best parts? Seriously beautiful scenery + it’s free!

After a day of (mostly) silent mourning for the lost Morgane Le Fay, I settled down to study Part I of New York Practice. I made flashcards. I wrote out sample answers. I ran three different pens out of ink. Mr. Caterpillar went out to have brunch with his parents, and I stayed in like a good little troll to try to memorize the 6 degrees of solicitation or whatever.

Mr. Caterpillar came back around 3pm. He had this

with him.

Yes, it IS the dress. He actually went down to Soho, found the dress, purchased it, and rode all the way back up to Harlem on the subway with it in his lap. He is the best man on earth. That much is perfectly clear.

I’ve come to my senses and have decided to keep the dress I’ve already ordered. Ready, Blythe? You’re going to be my only one, and I will love you like you deserve.

NB: This is not to say I wouldn’t throw the Blythe over for the Morgane Le Fay in a second if I found $2,400 in the street.

Yesterday afternoon, while wandering the Lower East Side with my favorite girl, and bridesmaid, Sarbear, I managed to stumble upon Adriennes — a bridesmaids’ shop which has been around since the 1950’s. They are by appointment only, but Sarbear worked her magic and got us in for a quick look.

The dresses are organized by color, but most designs come in most colors; so it’s up to you to root around. Adriennes has pretty much everything. Lots of Bill Levkoff, Watters and Watters. Some Vera Wang — though if you’re in Manhattan already, you might as well just go to Vera Wang Maids on Madison. Sarbear’s favorite was this custom in-house design — the pink dress with brown lace trim. She likes the 50’s poufy prom dress look.

Apparently the lead time on bridesmaids dresses averages about 3 - 3.5 months; so, I am (as always) unprepared.

Adriennes
155 Orchard St.
212-475-4206
By Appointment Only — Book 2 Weeks in Advance

Today Mr. Caterpillar’s mama and I headed over to Mark Ingram Bridal Atelier for the Paris trunkshow. I tried on my veil and dress — the much manhandled, four-sizes too big sample — and Mama Caterpillar managed to snap this picture with her camera phone.

For some reason I look a little slouchy and pot-bellied in the photo, but maybe that’s how I look in real life. In real life they don’t tilt the mirrors slightly back so you look thinner, or so I hear. But, I also look like I have boobs in the photo, and in real life, I know I don’t have those.

The dress is the Monique Lhuillier “Blythe” which is a sort of modified “Bliss.” And the veil is by someone else special and talented, but I have no idea who that is. All in all, I think my choices are ok. I never had that gold-standard bridal moment of dress shopping when you first see yourself in the perfect dress and cry. I chose my dress quickly, and I think I chose well — the picture above notwithstanding, I think I’ll look unslumpy and relatively fancy — but I figured a dress is a dress is a dress.

Until today.

Oh.

I’ve found the dress of all dresses. The most perfect dress on earth. Clearly created by angels. For me.

Unfortunately, it is not the Monique Lhuillier Blythe. It’s actually nothing like the Blythe. It’s a bold red, silk chiffon gown from Morgane La Faye in Soho. It’s glorious. And comfortable. It comes in ivory in addition to the red. And at $2,400, it’s about half the price of the Lhuillier. So, for what I paid for a dress I think is ok, I could have had TWO, count them TWO, absolutely crazy perfect dresses. So what am I going to do now?

PS: Buy your veil online if you can. All in, I’m paying about $975 to decorate my head — veil ($675) + headpiece ($300); and that’s just too much for a piece of netting and some beads.

Yesterday I graduated from law school; today I’m studying for the bar. In between I received several gifts.

From my aged grandparent — a check.
From my father’s youngest sister — a truly gigantic chunk of amber surrounded by space alien looking silver accents. I think it’s supposed to be a pendant.
From my parents — blinging diamond hoops that would be appropriate on Kimora Lee Simmons. At night. During a fight.
From my father’s oldest sister — The Complete Kama Sutra.

Clearly I am an ungrateful wretch, but just you wait until your 70 year old aunt gives you the complete Kama Sutra. This makes me REALLY REALLY glad registries exist for weddings.

Mr. Caterpillar’s mama has been working miracles while I sit on my floor sullenly eating old M&M’s. Just today she sent me pictures of her two newest creations — fans and bell shakers!

Earlier this month we (that’s really she — Mr. Caterpillar’s mama — but I’m going to pretend I helped) ordered some parasols for the wedding. I expect early September in Corralitos to be relatively warm, and I don’t want anyone to pass out during the ceremony. (Unless it’s from sheer awe. That would be okay.) Budgetary restrictions allow me to provide shelter only for the reception, so the parasols are going to be a sort of middleground. They’ll keep grandma from getting heat stroke, and I don’t have to find another $6,000 for an additional tent. But now, we have fans! Mr. Caterpillar’s mama painted the originals by hand. The dancing couple is absolutely beautiful.

And the bell shakers — roosters for Rooster Point, our venue, and owls because she knows I like owls. This could be the most rhythmic wedding ever.

Angel Sanchez’s bridal and evening gowns are marked down by 50 to 75% ($200 to $2,000).
Where: 526 Seventh Ave., nr. 38th St., ninth fl. (212-921-9827)
When: 5/11 and 5/12 (10-7); 5/13 (11-4)

The Temptation Party Garter from Spoylt — it’s a little crazy, but maybe this will be my wedding handbag? I know I’ll need my hands free to hoard hors d’oeuvres. But, will I really want to be reaching up my dress to get at some lipstick?

Maybe I’ll give them to my bridesmaids (yes, you’ve all convinced me to have them), and have them reach up their dresses when I need makeup.

P.S.: I will not be tossing anything at my wedding — garters or otherwise, but if I were, I would kind of like these.

I have been going back and forth about bridesmaids — should I have them? Should I not?

Originally, I had four: my best friend from 3rd grade on, two of my favorite girls from law school, and my crazy roommate for the past three-ish years. But Mr. Caterpillar wants to have a best man and no one else so this means I have to jettison three girls! One of them I’m pretty much okay with — she’s crazy anyway, but what about my favorite girls? I want them to participate in the wedding somehow, but I won’t need them to stand up with me. Should I just dress them as bridesmaids, but give them other duties, e.g. take the polaroids for the guestbook, guard the cards? Or should I just have them be bridesmaids?

As a complete non-sequitur, I really like the Sprinkler Dress from Anthropologie as a bridesmaid’s dress. At $118, it’s not prohibitively expensive, and it’s totally wearable again. So, if you’re not a terrible person and have picked your bridesmaids and aren’t giving them the boot, you might want to check out Anthropologie.

Strangely enough, Mr. Caterpillar’s ex-girlfriend never made it to the show Friday. I suppose the blizzard got her.

It’s interesting how things worked out. Mr. Caterpillar and I don’t often disagree about things — we both like sardines and hate mylar balloons — so we have little opportunity to practice when it comes to conflict. Enter Ex-Girlfriend.

Me: Well, I’d prefer if we didn’t have to see her at all.
Mr: Okay, we don’t have to see her. But she’ll probably come up after the show and give me a hug.
Me: NO HUGS! NO HUGS!
Mr: All right. You’re right. No hugs!
Me: Hugs mean we like people. And we don’t like her.
Mr: No, we don’t like her. If she tries to give me a hug, I’m going to take a step back.
Me: Excellent.

It’s a weird thing to set actual boundaries, but it feels really good. I’m glad Mr. Caterpillar understood about my No Hugs rule. And I’m really glad we were able to have a conversation about this whole thing.

Mr. Caterpillar’s mama is coming to town next week, and together we will merrily make our way to Mark Ingram Bridal Atelier to (1) attend the Paris trunkshow — tiaras ahoy! — and (2) take a picture of the dress I ordered since I can’t remember what it looks like and there are no pictures of it anywhere.

This Rivini dress was my second choice. It looks nothing like the one I finally decided on, and it’s totally not ANYTHING I had in mind. It’s princessy; it’s A-Line, it’s a ballgown; it’s got beading; it’s got lace; and it’s a little over $6,000. But it’s absolutely amazing on. If I weren’t getting married on the side of a hill in Northern California, I would totally have bought this dress.

Yesterday Mr. Caterpillar and I met with our officiant, his godfather who happens to be the captain of a sailing ship. During brunch, it came out that Mr. Caterpillar wants us to write our own vows. Easy enough for a musician/lyric writer/artist! What am I supposed to do? Argh! Panic! Panic!