Adventures in Dresses, Part I

Approximate recreation of Arielle in dress.

I tried on a wedding dress last weekend. It was horrifying.

You may know that I've never been the sort of girl to dream of my wedding and imagine myself in white lace or chiffon or whatever. Even as I've embraced the wedding planning process (I do love to plan), the dress has been one thing I still dread.

But I tend to like getting the things I dread out of the way, and an engaged friend had had some success with dresses at a little non-wedding-specific boutique in New Haven, so I figured I'd give it a shot when I was in the neighborhood.

Oh god.

My first clue that this might not be a dreamy experience came when I noticed that the pretty white dresses hanging in the store were all about a foot taller than I am. I know they can tailor things, but talk about a waste of yardage.

I should say here that I didn't have particularly high expectations; all those stories I'd been told about how magical it is to put on a white dress for the first time had completely gone over my head. My hatred of shopping is probably pathological and has led me to do things like buy the same sweater in three different colors to avoid having to shop for another few years. Dress shopping is particularly loathsome as I don't wear the same size in all places. I do find dresses very pretty, but as a practical matter, they're dreadful, and since I wear them about twice a year, I don't tend to buy them very often. I think at least three of the eight or so dresses that I own were purchased in middle school.

But I digress.

Being a small, non-wedding boutique, this store had exactly one wedding dress in stock, though it did have a few white ones and a nice pinkish one. Fortunately, it was a nice, simple, strapless white thing by Nicole Miller, whose dresses I tend to like. (No, I never thought I'd learn the names of any designers either, but one slow Saturday working the cops shift mixed with theKnot wedding dress gallery made me a changed women. Also I think I had some Nicole Miller stationery when I was at camp one year that I really liked.)

So into the dressing room I go. The fastidious salesman even thought the dress was in my size, so the expectations were creeping upward.

Big mistake.

Besides the three feet of extra fabric on the floor beneath my feet, the waist fell somewhere below my hips. I won't even discuss the boobage. It was sort of like being a child and trying on your mother's clothes, or at least putting on something that screamed, rather loudly, "this is not for you!"

Somehow the salesman overrode my protests and coaxed me out of the dressing room. First he suggested that I put on some high heels. This did not really have the desired transformational effect, though it did make me look about two inches taller (and worried that I'd fall out of them and break my ankle). Because grown up shoes also don't fit me.

I think what disappointed me most about this experience was not that the dress looked bad; some dresses just don't work for some people, and this one clearly wasn't meant for me. And I'm told that tailoring really can work wonders.

No, what really bugged me was that looking in the mirror in it felt like something of a dull thud. I'm not really sure what that meant, but it certainly wasn't magic.

I suppose I shouldn't have such high expectations. After all, if I never considered the bridal gown the crowning, dreamy moment of my adulthood, I shouldn't really expect to find my dream dress or expect much euphoria once I find one close. I guess the white dress thing just doesn't do it for me.

Unfortunately, the tall, beautiful Nicole Miller dress has left me with even more dread than before. I was hoping to preempt any chaperoned shopping trips by jumpstarting the search last weekend (I also don't like shopping with people; ask Rick about that one), but clearly that effort failed. I suppose I will have to get back on the horse at some point, but man, I am really not looking forward to this part.

(Things not included in this post that I meant to include: Did I miss something in girl school about the point of spending thousands of dollars on a dress you're going to wear for six hours? Seriously? Also, the allure of a train completely eludes me. If anyone would like to explain its importance to me I might reconsider, but at the moment I have no interest in growing a gigantic satin tail.)