Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Confessions of an Anti-Bride
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I grew up in an era when weddings were Big. In the 1980s I saw Diana and Charles throw the “wedding of the century,” Liz Taylor nab husband #7 at Betty Ford, and Luke and Laura do astonishing things with nuptial coiffure.
An impressionable student of pop culture, I understood weddings to be enormous spectacles put on by a stiff, unhappy cast. Even my Bride Barbie, unmovable in her puffy white gown, seemed to wait for an expensive venue I could not provide. That, and possibly a television crew.
So when I recently got engaged, I promised myself that we would do it differently. We would go small and simple, or elope. Now old enough to know that Luke and Laura probably overdid it, I totally sniff at spectacle. I shudder at the mention of that internet vortex of all things wedding-y: TheKnot.com. I would be an anti-bride. I’d go the other direction. I’d find a simple, nontraditional, humble dress - something that would whisper blushing to my guests, rather than holler -zilla!
But, it didn’t take long for the inevitable to happen. On my first day of gown shopping with my very close, very honest friend Kate, my guard dropped so quickly I was powerless to pick it back up. I caught a glimpse of that little bride-diva inside me, the one I was desperate to avoid. This bride wore a glittering white gown and a tiara. She wanted heels and she hated humble. And she was very convincing. It happened at our very first stop, a ritzy boutique in Wellesley, where we went on a lark, for fun, to make fun.
It was so unassuming on the hanger – like nothing I had envisioned. This gown was curvy, retro, glamorous. Not A-line, not typical, but definitely bridal, and definitely not humble. All those images I’d conjured up of myself as a non-conforming Bride Magazine dissident in an ethereal, atypical gown, flew right out the boutique window. In my former universe before I caught that glimpse of my inner bride, before I saw the dress on my body, I would have called it ridiculous. Now I didn’t want to take it off. Kate dragged me out and forced me into other bridal shops.
Only I couldn’t let the gown go. The thought of it on another body caused me pain. I put on other dresses, took them off; but I couldn’t concentrate. Kate didn’t help: one gown made me look like Elvira, another like a hooker at the beach. Another prompted, “Well, you don’t want a dress that’ll kill your grandmother.” For me, the other gowns just melded into one category: not that one.
After the last boutique, back in the car, I panicked. I wanted the dress, but I was plagued by doubt. The irony did not escape me. I, the proclaimed anti-bride, the one who’d find something unassuming, cheap, humble, wanted a designer dress from a bridal boutique in Wellesley.
I whined to Kate; I was having a small-scale identity crisis. I became that bride – the one you want to slap. Hard. Luckily Kate’s not that good a friend, but still it hit me: it was time for me to embrace my inner bride. Embrace being the center of attention and the belle of the ball. Embrace spending gobs of money because it’s “our special day.” Save humble for later. I went back and bought the dress.
I confess, I surprised myself. And I confess, I liked it. And I do love that dress, even if it brought out the bride in me.
Title photo by Lightguard, istockphoto
Luke and Laura photo from answers.com
Comments
Just wait until you find your SECOND dress without even trying ... Trust me. It happens!
Ahh. I’m laughing as I read this - I’ve just been through a similar identity shift! I am getting married in Sept, and in thinking about what I would wear, originally thought I’d just find a pretty dress at a store, not imagining stepping into a bridal salon, which seemed all too traditional, girly, and silly for me. I’ve never had a strong sense of style, and didn’t think I’d care if the dress looked wedding-esque. But, wow, when I tried on a beautiful, flowy, VERY bridesy gown at a gorgeous salon, with staff oohh-ing and aahh-ing, I let myself believe they were doing this just for me
, and I felt beautiful and VERY bridesy . . . and I loved the feeling! No dresses after that compared, and, with some guilt, snuck back to the store alone one afternoon and bit the bullet. I’m still surprised at how much one dress could affect me—but I’m not fighting it anymore. There’s definitely a woman who wants to be the bride in me!
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