We Have a Dress...I Think.

After a week of being smacked to the ground by the flu, while settling into the first week of classes, I was barely able to remember how to spell my name, let alone think about wedding stuff. But, at last, I am back on my feet and back on track.

I hit a monumental moment in the wedding planning process-- I went dress shopping! My mother and sister live in a different state, and were unable to join me. So, I called on my fashionista friend (and fellow bride-to-be), Joelle, to play dress up with me. In a heart beat, Joelle was on a train from New Jersey, and Philly bound in no time.

We headed to Priscilla of Boston, in Ardmore, where we were greeted and promptly placed in the hands of a dress consultant named Sue. The three of us scanned the racks for the perfect little white number, coming up with 4 dresses. Sue had zero reservations about being in the fitting room, as she ushered me to "Shimmy, shimmy" my lower half into a dress that was a little snug at the bottom. When I emerged from the room, Joelle was there, camera ready, to snap shots of the dresses. At one point, a store manager came over to say I looked like I should be in a magazine. It was sheer extra-ocular muscle strength that allowed me to resist the urge to roll my eyes at the blatant sales tactics. Lets face it, when was the last time you saw a tattooed chick on the glossy pages of ANY bridal magazine. I smiled, however, and fell in love with the dress a little more.

Sue laid the complements on thick, as she slid a credit line application across the table. In a sort of whisper, she let me in on the fact that if I opened a line of credit today, it would knock 20% off the dress. Oh, and today was the last day of the offer. 20% felt subjective to me, but when Sue penned the discounted price of the dress on the back of her business card, the world seemed to change. Suddenly, I needed the dress, needed the line of credit, and needed it all NOW.

What was happening here? Prior to walking into the foyer of the Priscilla of Boston, I hardly imagined my dress being white, let alone it coming from a bridal salon. Suddenly, I was gushing over taffeta, and boning in the bodice, and tucks in fabric, and whether the dress was vanilla or ivory. And, I was seriously considering taking out a credit card to pay for it?! Sigh. We let Sue know we would be in touch, and left to grab a Chai Latte and consider the events of the day.

With some reflection, I am still head over heels for the dress I found. I am, however, removed from whatever chemical they pump through the vents of that place, where everyone becomes giddy with nuptial day delight. I was sucked into the sea of sequence and lace; Sue was Poseidon, poking me with her trident of complements. But now, safe on dry land, I see there are countless dresses out there to shimmy into.