I went back to David’s Bridal.  I put on dress #1.  Two friends came with me and they surprised me by pulling out their cameras and snapping away.  So funny.  One genius consultant pulled a veil and a headband and just made everything look right—not too vintage-y, not too costume-y.  Just very bridal-y, very me.  Dress bought, headband bought, veil ordered.  Done.

Driven perhaps by the same instinct that sends penguins across Antarctica, I headed to David’s Bridal to try on one specific dress.  Why did I think this dress would work?  I have no idea.  But it did.  Bridal consultants admired my accessorizing: grey and black striped socks and silver booties.  My feeling is, if the dress can handle some stripped socks, you’re in good shape.  To top it off, it’s on sale.  I almost bought it then and there.  But then what about dress shopping with my mom?  And the ladies?  Isn’t this supposed to take longer?  Am I too efficient?  Aren’t I supposed to see my transformed self in the mirror and break down into tears?  Somehow I thought there was more to this.

I told my ladies that they are not debutants and this is not a ball–no chiffon or satin required.  I said I’d like them to incorporate this one particular color somehow, and if they were feeling floral, that was awesome but not required.  And ideally I wanted them to feel sexy and festive, so to err on that side on things.  I am feeling good about the bmaid dresses.  I never want to think about that again.

So my ladies are worried.  I told them that the man I love is probably wearing a tux and tie and his merry men are probably wearing black suits.  And then they got concerned that the perfectly lovely dresses they were looking at weren’t formal enough.  I said they were—and then I got worried about it.  Maybe it was bad to have ladies in pretty dress with men in suits?  Maybe they should be more formal?

So I have a new fixation: dresses for my bridesmaids.  Here’s what they will not be wearing: bridesmaid dresses.  You know the ones: they are satin, possibly to the floor, and feel very much like a bad prom, just less fun.  No thanks.  Didn’t enjoy wearing them myself, certainly not going to make anyone spend $300 to look awful.

The funny thing is, we all got sort of confused by being off the grid on this one.  At first I didn’t want to impose any bridesmaid dress guidelines because…I don’t know why.  I wanted them to read my mind and get all Zen master about my color sense?  

So in an effort to get clear on myself, I found myself trolling fashion sites and putting together a list of about 50+ links to dresses.  It’s like crazy cakes in my head.  I like fashion to begin with—and then I “have to” look at all those beautiful dresses.  Once again, there may have to be an intervention.

Could I get married without buying a new dress?  Radical thought, I know.  But here’s the thing: I have a number of vintage and black-tie dresses in my closet at this very moment: couldn’t I just wear one of those?   I don’t have a long white gown, true.  But I do have any number of long black ones.  The bride wore black—very French, no?  And what could be more traditional than that?  Or the beige lace one.  Or the 30s style gold one.  Perhaps one of those would be just fine?

As I mentioned in my last blog, I started an account at The Knot so I could save wedding dresses for my “friend.”  However, when I came time to fill in the info on the account, did I put her name?  I did not.  I put mine.  Did I list my boyfriend’s name?  Nope, no need to jinx it, since we are in fact NOT ENGAGED and I could hardly declare a wedding that wasn’t happening.  Bless The Knot, the lack of a fiancé’s name did not stop me from being able to create an account. 

Here is the madness that followed: in the space of a week or two, I clicked through every wedding dress photo on The Knot.  Thousands?  Tens of thousands?  It was quite a few.  I could not stop myself. 

I learned a few valuable lessons.  I learned that I was not a fan of beading.  I learned that I do not like the easily wrinkled texture of taffeta.   I learned that despite my love for large skirts that are hard to maneuver (I got to wear a hoop skirt once.  Loved it!), I decided that I did not like the big princess gown.  And I learned that I wanted to get married. 

Not just to anyone, either; I realized that I wanted to marry the man I am with.   Overall, I saved 23 dress ideas and then my sanity by closing the computer.