And The Winner Is

Let's just cut to the chase here shall we?  There is a white dress, in a plastic bag, hanging from the curtain rod in my upstairs bathroom.  This is no sundress I'm speaking of here, we're talking genuine, bona fide  wedding gown, and it's all mine.  

Looks like a blast huh?

     After multiple trips to the local bridal shops, hours upon hours of web surfing and magazine page flipping, it's all come to a close with a gargantuan sigh of relief.  This whole process has been a very difficult one.  Not only does our budget not allow for the trying on of dress after dress that I find especially appealing (as who wants to put on a dress to find it's absolutely perfect only to find it's half the entire budget?) but I've never had a clear vision of what the wedding dress of my dreams would look like.  I haven't been daydreaming about my wedding in general since I was five like so many other Chiquita's out there.  I don't know my dress style to begin with let alone to have a sense of what the most important dress I'll ever, in my life, own should look like.  Daunting, can you tell?  I shall no longer be dispirited by this experience!  

Look at all the lonely people...

     This past Saturday, I started the day with a lovely drive to Burlington.  Though when I left, it was sunny and moderately warm (a whole 20 degrees), half-way there I hit a blizzard.  Though this natural snow squall was unavoidable and a little scary when taking it on at 50 miles an hour upon 5,000 pounds of metal, it was nothing in comparison to the commotion I stepped into at David's Bridal.  Under the glare of the florescent lighting and the commotion throughout the blindingly white store, I was sufficiently overloaded.  Being talked at from five differently directions, being thrown directly into picking out dresses while still bundled in my down parka, boots and hat even though they had a whole list of of them I'd picked out ahead of time.  Then tossed in a dressing room the size of a coat closet with six or more dresses leaving me barely enough room to turn around, let alone get in and out of twenty pound dresses.  Coming out and being glared at by fifteen other women all trying to squeeze in from of the mirrors and most at least three times my size and finding that the sales associates theory of needing three sizes larger than what I normally wear is a ridiculous one.  Talk of alterations being available when I find my dress today and hem lines and shoes and sashes and ivory versus white!  

AHHH!! 

And we step out into the fresh, brisk air.  A feeling of defeat washes over me as we head to our next appointment.  My mom decides we can be a little late to the next shop so we can get a bite to eat.  I bumble out my order, sit down and a sudden surge of exhausting plows me over.  I just want to put my head down on the table and sleep for hours.  I eat my vegetable sandwich, drink my raspberry lemonade, take a couple Advil and get back in the car.  

My dress

     As we pull up around to the bridal shop and see the new dresses they have displayed in the two story high windows of the old brick building, I start to feel a little less like I've been clunking about in a washing machine.  We're greeted just as we've walked in the door and we're removing our shoes.  We talk briefly with the sock footed sales woman as she shows me to "my" dressing room.  There's NO ONE else there.  NO ONE!  The hardwood floors, warm natural lighting and distant sounds of Frank Sinatra soothed my tense nerves.  The dressing room is at least three times the size of the one I was stuffed into earlier that morning and my new friend (we'll call her J) was at my side the whole time helping to put the dresses on and together to give the best impression of what they'd look like once altered correctly.  With knowledgeable compliments and observations on different aspects of the dresses I tried, she helped me notice the smaller details about what I liked or didn't like about each dress.  She did a great job at keeping me in my listed price range (opposed to the SALES women at David's constantly trying to up-sell).  Though I ran out of time in my own velvet draped room, I was able to move to a smaller space to retry on a few of the dresses, talk it out with my mom and mull things over.  And even though she had another customer to tend to J continued to check on us regularly.  She was friendly, attentive, down to earth and most importantly, laid back! 
     After the day and night experiences I'd had, we were both exhausted and it still shocks me that I made a decision.  Now I must tell you, I say that I decided on this dress because I'm just not one of those who just know it when they know it.  I have to think about it, talk it out, weigh the options and come to a logical, realistic decision.  And this, I did.  And now my decision is hanging on a curtain rod in the bathroom. 

My dress

aww, look at the couch and all the windows!

My dress

And my gigantic dressing room!

     Strewn throughout this narrative of my hectic hunt, are photos of my adventure and lastly, some detail photos of "the one".  I feel I'd like to keep the piece as a whole off the world wide web until it's officially been seen by all in it's finished form on the vessel it's meant to be viewed upon.  So, all you get are bits and pieces until then.  Can you tell which photos are from Dresses-R-Us from those of the locally owned place?