Two Dresses or Not Two Dresses? That is the question.

I am going a bit more bridal frou frou with this one everyone. Let’s talk about Two of Everything. As the wise band Nelson said, ‘Two heads are better than one, double the pleasure, triple the fun’. Is it though? And when is two just one too many?

 

Life is geared up to couples, true – when I was single it was often a point of frustration that I had no-one to share the financial cost of going to a friend’s party or wedding if it were far away. However, now BF and I pay out of our joint account, I actually find myself feeling like I am paying more. After all, if I shared a £100 room with a friend back ‘in’t good old days I would have paid £50, right? Now I pay £100 to all intents and purposes; it just comes from our joint account.

 

Now, we have two wedding rings and even two engagement rings. Some people have two types of wedding cake. Many women have two sets of wedding shoes (high ones and low ones) and others even have two weddings. You can often do a better job in general with two people. But you can’t have a fight on your own. And sometimes two is just too many for some jobs.

The decision to have a second dress is one which a lot of women think about, even if it’s briefly dismissed. And why not? It is the only time in your life when you will spend that amount of money on a dress. And if you have ever tried to dance or do anything sensible in a long frock with a train, you will understand why it’s nice to have maybe a shorter version for the evening. Why stress it really? If your bustle doesn’t work do you want to be worrying about it being ripped as people get more enthusiastic or even (god forbid) being unable to dance because the bloody thing is getting in the way?

 

 

Many people decide that they will combat this choice by having a day dress (long) and then have a separate dancing dress which they can have a good boogie in. And maybe show off their shoes….  In fact, a number of articles on the Telegraph online, Inside Weddings and Brides Website talk about this choice some women make. Even the Huffington Post and the NY Times got involved. People were doing it long before Kim Kardashian did it. Wedding boards on The Knot and Wedding Bee are full of the question, ‘Should I wear two dresses?’ Interesting that they feel they need ask permission of their peers … More on that later.

 

My friend’s sister went the whole hog and had two different dresses, a longer ballroom style dress and then a short 1950’s one for the evening.  Her take on the 'two dress is better than one' question was: ‘I only bought the second dress the week before the wedding as I thought at the last min it would be good to have something shorter I could dance in. My first one was from Monique L’Huillier and the second one was Phase Eight. I was really glad I had a second one, it was much more relaxed for the party section of the day. I also went all out with a second pair of shoes from Jimmy Choo, the short dress really showed them off.’

 

The other option of course is to get one dress which gives you the option of having two dresses without having to get changed, Poppy Delevingne style which is generally more practical and less expensive in the long run. Also it means a quick change of 5 minutes doesn’t turn into half an hour in the loo changing. There are even websites like this one, 2in1 which have two in one dresses for this very purpose. The wedding industry is wising up… You only have to look at the number of very expensive lace tops offered in most bridal shops to realise that many people like to have this option. After all, if you’re having a church wedding you don’t really want to be flashing too much flesh but neither do you want to be trussed up like a lace turkey for your disco.

My friend MD, did a similar thing to what I plan to do myself and had a dress which could take her throughout the day from the ceremony to the party with a simple top that came off to transform the dress.

 

She told me, ‘I basically tried on a few dresses and as I got nearer to what I wanted I started to look online as well. I found my dress as I'd tried a similar one on by the same designer that wasn't quite right but I really liked the style. It just so happened that it was both affordable and 2 dresses in one - bonus! And I completely fell in love with it partly because of its versatility and how fun it was.’

Similarly, I will have a dress which might not be quite so versatile (she went from lacey, slinky bridal to full on elegant white slink backless in the evening – I was most impressed), but will have a bit more flesh on show in the evening thanks to some lace construction by Mrs McW for the church bit.

The question I am guessing that you are asking is, since when did being a bride become a fashion show? In the same way that actors used to wear just the ones dress at the Oscars, suddenly we have hosts in four or five of them.

 

 

Is it fair to call them ‘costume changes’ and should we be feeling guilty about changing our dress halfway through our big day? Surely one dress is enough?

 

I don’t know about that. Honestly, it’s an inordinate amount of money to spend on a dress. I can fully understand why many readers are rolling their eyes that women feel they want to milk one day for all it's worth while people oo and ahh over yet another wardrobe change. But if you want to have a great dance in the evening and you’re getting married at 1pm, why wouldn’t you have a cheaper dancing option to change into? I can't see how anyone would object to that as a practicality, even if you don't agree with it in theory.

 

I haven’t quite gone for two, mainly as I want to get my money’s worth out of number 1 and will most likely stay in it until I’m forced out of it, but I have made sure that I get a second shot at the whole ‘I’M A BRIDE!’ feeling regardless.

 

We have wound up having a second reception to fit in M&D’s friends and some of our chums who have families (we are strictly no children on the Saturday) and M felt it was important to be ‘bridal’ for both. I refused to put the dress from the previous day on (I have done enough plays in period costume to know that I’ll never want to put it on ever again after spending 14 hours plus in it) so I went for a second option.

Today was an exciting day at work as my second dress arrived. It is a particularly beautiful frock from Honeypie Boutique. Amazingly enough, at £149.99 you can have a made to measure 1950’s style silk dress in any colour you want in a whole variety of styles with sleeves, over skirts, extra petticoats…the works. Frankly I’d have had it for my actual wedding dress.

I might be mildly in love with this site.

I cannot therefore stand here and say that you shouldn’t have a second dress. However I do think that if you can’t afford a second dress and want one, restrain yourself! Remember, want is different to need. If you can afford it, well, you technically only get married once. There is a little Kim Kardashian in every woman deep down….

 

It Fits!

Despite nearly being sick in the changing room, I would just like to say that the dress fits! I went out and had a well deserved comfit of duck leg with creamy potatoes, ate half a packet of gluten free chocolate fingers and had a glass or five of wine. But I will be back on it this week.

 Also, I have chosen my shoes and they have wings on them. Now they are a pair of wedding shoes with a difference. Buy them here.

What's in a few pounds here or there?

There is nothing like a wedding to make you freak out about the way you look, especially if it’s you who is getting married. I’m bad enough at friend’s weddings. It takes a very secure woman to not worry about whether their dress will fit or whether they will look their ‘best’, especially when you have 130 people taking photos of you, not to mention ones you have paid an extortionate amount for.

Women spend tens, hundreds or thousands on their appearance for their wedding day according to Soundvision. Add up everything that makes you look 'pretty' and you have one hell of an eye watering beauty list.

Like Popeye, I take a certain optimistic yet pragmatic approach to my looks: I am what I am and yes, I do (in the main) very much like the way that I look. My body and I have had a checkered relationship. Like sisters who spend most of their time together arguing, we understand each other’s advantages and faults and accept them as part of our daily life.

On some days my thighs and I are not on speaking terms. When I lie on my back with my legs against a wall above me however, I admire them greatly. I am not thin. Neither am I fat. I would describe myself as ‘tall but solid with fat in the right places’. BF would describe me as having body dysmorphia and that I look lovely the way that I am. I don't believe him wholly.

Solid. Makes you think of a cow, doesn’t it. I am definitely solid. M always said I could one day be ‘willowy’ but I’ve never quite managed it. I liked food too much and exercised too little.

Thanks to an enjoyable, if unsuccessful, career in filmmaking, I have a lot of wonderful friends who can do wonderful surface things to make you look just wonderful. Mrs MW is doing my adjustments for my dress, P (who I lived with years ago and who used to work for a very famous London Salon) is doing my hair. I’m ok at my own make-up and have the added bonus of getting to keep it all afterwards having done a morning course at the Coquettes on a Groupon offer. So all in all, I am confidant that the facial area and the over body part will look good on the day.

It’s the bit underneath that has me worried right now.

It was only when I went for my dress measurements (bridal shops measure you to decide what dress size they will order about seven years, sorry seven months before your wedding) that the true desperation of the situation sank in.

I knew that I had put weight on since going out with BF. Before we met I was at my slimmest; almost-but-not-quite willowy. Then I started eating and keeping up with a man and it all went south. Before I knew it I had happy fat, definite love handles and was kicking myself a bit. And as anyone who has put on weight will know, as you get heavier the urge to exercise lessens. A true paradox.

So I am standing in the charming dressing room at the lovely Ellie Sanderson where I bought my dress, in my underwear thinking, ‘my god, I’m sure I got RID of that a year or so ago but apparently it’s back. And it’s worse’. Accacia has tied a ribbon around my waist as a reference point (or what there is of it – it sort of is merging with my hips and chest) and is now measuring me gently with small, cold hands and shouting out awfully high numbers to her assistant. My friend N (Girl friend of the Best Man) has come with me for moral support and can hear every word. I’m feeling vaguely embarrassed. I’m also quite mottled as it’s January and cold outside.

After I put my clothes out and emerge feeling like I did when I picked up my first round of A-Level module results ( I got a C and an E), it turns out, I am a couture 18. I feel like I got an F. F for Feminism just Died a bit inside me that I even care. Turns out I am not so happy with my body after all. You can parrot on all you want about wedding dresses being ‘ridiculous’ sizes, but this (and the sight of myself in my under roo’s in that unflatteringly massive mirror) has done something to me. Something has shifted in that dressing room. And I don’t mean my side fat.

We meet the boys for a drink and I am despondent as I sip my wine. Not as much as poor N who has to listen to me whitter on about how fat I am for about six streets. The pork scratchings turned to ashes in my mouth that night.

But I am never low for long. Accacia has said that we can either get me the dress that will fit my waist NOW but will be massive in the bust or I can aim to loose enough weight to go one size lower. That means loosing 3 inches around my waist. That is actually quite a lot of inches – a mountain to climb at that stage but you think that six months is ages. Turns out it isn’t.

I ring Mrs MW to ask her professional dress making advice – go with the one that fits now or one which is a size smaller? Professionally, her advice is, ‘Sod it, go for the small one and eat less.’ So I do. This is apparently against all other professional wedding advice (see this article from Bridal Guide) but life is just not worth living if you don’t take a few risks. This is what I was telling myself when I ordered it.

So here I am several months later, one gym membership in my wallet and with my dress fitting next Saturday morning. The dress that I am hoping will do up, let alone fit.

I can’t say that I am skinny; I am not. I can’t say that the weight has ‘fallen off’ because it hasn't. I have however been slowly toning up and loosing weight. I have also lost 2.5 inches from around my waist and am ½ an inch away from that 31 inch waist band.

Looking good is a pressure but honestly, I have come to the conclusion that you should only do any of this rubbish if you want to. While I may have decided to spent £150 on some random wrap thing which I have always secretly wanted to do an am using this as an excuse (Contour Wrap – I am very excited!), it doesn't mean that you have to. Unless you want to. If you don’t want to have a professional manicure, then don’t have one! If your dress fits when you try it on, don’t have it altered. What is the point in spending £400 on a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes in white that you will never wear again (thanks Frugality - top tip!)?  

Finally, here are my top ten, 100% biased, unprofessional top tips to future brides, bridesmaids, grooms or just people who would like to loose some weight and get fit without going mad or over doing it in the process:

   1)  Gyms are really expensive! My god they are so fricking expensive. In my local area, I have the choice between the County Council Gyms, LA Fitness, David Lloyd. Shop around. We wound up choosing DW because they had the combo of a pool, gym and classes, were around the corner and frankly, were the cheapest. At £39 a month for a 6 month contract, they are a bargain compared to other gyms pricing up at £60-80 a month on a year long contract. It is worth it. I am sure you can do it on your own but there is something about ‘getting my moneys worth’ which keeps me going….

2)  Get a personal Trainer. I mean it. I was never one of those people who thought having a personal trainer was worth the money and then I found Simon. Simon is a genius. He is encouraging, pushes me hard without making me want to cry and is very reasonable price wise – find out some prices and they will surprise you. Plus I get to say ‘Simon says’ at least once a day to BF. Get someone you feel comfortable with and who understands what your goals are. They will even work you out a diet plan. It is 100% worth the effort and cost.

3)  Go to classes. I love classes!! Zumba! Boxercise! Bodycombat! So much better than trudging around the machines in a boring routine, they will work every inch of you and make sure that you are toned all over instead of just doing loads of cardio. You can also work at your own pace and get what you want out of them.

 4) Just stop eating shit. Seriously. No crisps, no cake, no biscuits, no jam. Do you need ice cream on those strawberries? OK, you do, but do you need that much? Had a long day and need a glass of wine? NO! You don’t! Just by cutting out crap you’ll find you seriously help yourself along, especially if you can give up booze. I actually cut out sugar. Seriously. I make my own muesli with oats, dried fruit, some flaked almonds and some truvia now. Didn’t see that one coming….

5)  If the diet sounds too good to be true, it totally is. Do I think raspberry keytones have made ANY difference to my weight? No. Has drinking buckets of green tea made me thinner? No. Not that I don’t take them. BF calls them ‘expensive wee’. What has made me thinner is eating brekkie, not snacking, having salad and chicken for lunch and an uber healthy meal in the evening. It’s depressing. I hate it. But it works. My Fitness Pal is a free app and will track your calories and also your exercise routine. Plus you can make rude comments on all of your friend’s pages. 

6)  Measure inches. Sod the weight. It’s an indication of nowt as BF would say. Keep an idea of it sure, but if you’re doing what I’m doing and aiming for visits to the gym at least 4 times a week, then you are not going to loose much weight. What you are going to do is loose fat and gain muscle. Which is good. Read this article on Muscle Vs Fat. Basically not only does muscle take up less space and look better but it also means you burn more calories just doing nothing by increasing your metabolic efficiency. BONUS! So any girls out there who think weights are for boys, think again!

7) Be realistic. My bingo wings are not going to go, however much Boxercise and Bodycombat I do between now and the wedding. Sad but true. Do I worry? No! I am just going to have to accept that I have slightly plump arms. At least I HAVE arms.

8)  Loose it slow and keep it off. And don’t stress about it. It won’t go any faster for you fretting (sorry to all of my friends who have constant weight updates – FYI, I am fretting a lot). Your future husband doesn’t give a shit if you have lost weight. I almost guarantee he didn’t propose to you just to have you turning into some food crazed dragon woman. He liked you how you were before enough to buy it. Loosing weight is for yourself and yourself alone.

9)   You’re going to look epic no matter what. Really, you are.

10) Don’t believe everything you read. BF is a scientist and I am not. He never accepts things for what they are at face value whereas I do. When I say ‘potatoes are bad for you’ he comes back with this article which actually proves that is tosh. Yes, potatoes are not bad for you! Stop saying they are. Imagine what else you are told is going to help and is actually merely causing you misery! Do some proper research when people tell you to ‘cut’ things out. Mainly it’s about moderation, not prohibition.

 This has been a slight deviation from the subject but needless to say, I am very nervous about fitting in my dress. Please wish me luck for a week’s time when I go to try it on and I will be keeping up the good work by heading to a quick boxercise class tonight before leaving to visit my parents and try to avoid drinking too much wine. Sad times.

I just hope I can keep it up long enough.

In which I Loose it Three Times

Forgive me Blog Spot for I have lost it. Thrice now have I turned into that which I swore I would not. Bridezilla happened. She took me over and she made me her puppet.

Poor Bridechiller. She sat, huddled in fear, as the gargantuan monster she so swore to defeat rampaged across the landscape, destroying all in her path, strewing things in her wake and leaving a trail of confusion and mayhem.

To be fair, this wasn’t entirely my fault. And it also was.

BF was prepared to propose and he was prepared to marry me. Was he prepared to do it when I wanted him to….? Possibly not. Yes, I will admit reader; I massively pushed him into it.

BF still maintains that he had a plan. Sort of. Kind of. At some point. He was going to ask me at some time in the misty future, put it that way. Then he proposed. After we were engaged he wanted to leave it a few years for the wedding and I (knowing how my anxiety would build to fever pitch over one year, let alone two) was determined to marry the following year. We set a date within 48 hours of getting engaged. For some reason I felt I had to nail him down or we’d do that endless drifting of long term engaged couples where everyone wants to know when the wedding is but no-one likes to ask. Why? I don’t know. Fulfilment of a life plan? I enjoy a party? I would like to be married?

Anyway, long story short with minimal naval gazing, BF spent two months getting his head around it. By the time he had stuck his head up and gone ‘hey up babes, I’m ready to arrange stuff!’ we’d booked the church, chosen the venue, I’d practically bought a dress and had picked the colour palette. In all fairness I had tried to get him involved and he’d just gone a bit angrily vague whenever the ‘W’ word was mentioned – the way I go when a customer mentions that they read the Daily Mail. BF acknowledges this. But it doesn’t change facts that by the time he’d come to terms with it all, M and I had decided quite a lot of the main things about the wedding. We always checked with BF first of course (who would shrug and look slightly disinterested), but by the time he came out of his man cave and actually wanted to be involved, most of the main stuff had been done.

This hadn’t helped my stress levels and, having felt rightly or wrongly that I had done a lot on my own, to suddenly be told I needed to run everything we decided now by him and even find he disagreed with some things I was proposing (How could he?! Didn’t he know how IMPORTANT this was to me?! He doesn’t even LIKE flowers gnash growl flame smash), it only served to fan the flames building up inside me. All squashed up hidden away because of the unacknowledged guilt that somehow I had bullied him into all of this. What a mix of horrific emotions to keep locked up.

Added to work stress (I work in a stressful place and so does he), family stress (M is wonderful but she likes what she likes and knows how to push for it which is hard when you have a man who doesn’t want what she wants but are forced to do all the explaining to both parties) and trying to maintain social normality (no-one tells you you can’t), I was a powder keg.

1.     In which Bridezilla Makes her big Debut

One weekend in November we had had a wonderful tasting session with Harold who does a kind of Italian German fusion food – seriously lush. Both of Bf’s parents, BF, M & D and I had eaten like absolute pigs having polished off 6 courses (and several entrées) each. Afterwards, we retired to the sitting-room where we all sat around, slightly glazed, looking stunned at one another, polaxed with over eating.

Suffice to say, I can heartily recommend Pomegranate Catering for their amazing taster menu, their willingness to please and their encouragement that we were important to them. If you are getting married in the Kent area, go with them. They are great and I can’t wait to eat like a pig again at the wedding. Reminds me, speak to Mrs McW about putting an elasticated front on the dress….

So basically, we chose the menu from what everyone liked that night. Which was fine. Until we had to finalise it. Skip forwards two weekends when we were back down with my folks…..

I never knew M and would come to loggerheads over pork, but that’s what we did. M said lots of people didn’t eat pork. I said more people didn’t eat lamb (the pork was amazing – I wanted the pork), M said if we had the pork starter we couldn’t have the pork main. BF said why not. M got a mulish look on. D tried to put a word in and gave up – don’t think he cared about pork or beef. I said I didn’t want the beef I wanted the pork. Which is ridiculous, because I live for beef and am frankly ambivalent about pork.

Holy God, I swear, this is where it really kicked off.

Before I knew it I was out of my chair, screaming that everyone was ganging up on me before flouncing out and up to my room - it took 5 minutes with the word pork mentioned maybe thirty times and I was apparently sixteen again. I spread myself out on the bed (‘Like a Disney princess weeping’ I pictured in my mind) until BF came up, calmed me down and hugged me (which is, boys, what you do when your mad fiancée turns into a raging tower of insane hormones over beef or pork). It took me an hour to calm down, at which point I went downstairs and apologised. We all had a laugh, ha ha ha! And I thought that was it.

I’d never do THAT again!

2.    In which Bridezilla doesn’t like the cut or colour of your gib, Young Man!

BF and I went to look at suits. More on those later. Suffice to say we got a cracking deal on them at a local shop in Oxford. Anyway, he’d gone off with his Best Man (Bestie from now on) and tried a few on. He loved the style I liked too (win win - he looks like an actual penguin in formal wedding attire so is going for a Prince Edward style). And he fancied the dark blue. I laughed at this (ha ha ha!) thinking, ‘don’t dwell on that thought darling’ but he carried on saying it. He liked the dark blue, wasn’t the dark blue nice?

The colour palette I have picked (poor BF! I can’t even try and say ‘we’) is going to be stunning. Although the wedding is in August we are having essentially autumnal colours and calling it ‘harvest’. Think this.                                 

Then picture dark blue suits. Nooooooooooo.

But understandbly this, from BF’s P.O.V was the ONLY THING he got complete control of – what he and his ushers wore. Guess what. He still preffered the blue to the brown.

I went mental. In Oxford High Street. We stood at the traffic lights at the corner of Cornmarket and Queen’s street and just yelled at one another. YELLED.

Autumn colours and BLUE? Are you INSANE MAN?!

Well, mainly I yelled. And then he uttered the words which were sure to bring out the fangs and the claws; ‘why can’t we just change the colour palette?’ Oohhh. Ohhhh heck.

I lost it. People actually turned and stared. Poor BF. He whisked me around the corner to the White Horse and by the time we had got there, the tears had started. We sat down with a pint and had a little chat. The scales fell from my eyes.

I felt dreadful. Especially when he said he wasn’t really that bothered but just wanted to see how I’d react. Epic fail.

This would be the last time. The very last time I swore as we had a cuddle and went to catch the bus.

Until it happened AGAIN over the guest list.

3.    In which Bridezilla Appears for Act Three

The Guest List is what will test your ability to remain calm in any situation. Firstly, you know the people you have to invite. Yes, you WANT to invite them but you also know that you can’t NOT invite them. They take up half of the party.

Half.

So your 130 (which is massive for most wedding numbers) is down to 65. Add in a lifetime of friends who you have met while you were single for 29 years on both sides and then the people who your parents say you should invite (because there will be at least 10 of them on either side) and you’re out of space. Leaving 20 people who you actually really wanted to invite out in the cold.

That was one of the most incredible temper tantrums I have ever had. It took me an hour and a half to calm down, loose the scales and stop destroying Tokyo. And the sad thing is, most of it was pure frustration and lack of control. I knew (know) that in fact we will get lots of people who won’t be able to make the wedding and will therefore manage to invite a few on our second list, but when you have people asking you when the wedding is so that they can book their hotel and you know they are on the second list….awkward!

Don’t even speak to me about the fact that we have said ‘no children’.

The no children thing, to me is sensible. Not only do you have a more adult wedding but the idea of an enclosed space with a load of ragingly drunk adults and small breakable people charging everywhere makes me very nervous. Plus, we just don’t have the money or the space. We’re in our Thirties – a lot of our friends have children and we just don’t have the space for them. Plus, when you speak to most parents the idea of having a night off is much more interesting than having to look after little Jimmy, hyped up on cake and sweet food all day, then go home early with at least one of you sober.

So as we have the space and the marquee for the weekend, we have decided to do a second do on the Sunday for all people who have families and would rather come with their kids. Bouncy castle, ice cream van and I even get another frock. It can’t be all bad!

There we have it.

I think I have the solution now. First I started getting my back and stomach seen to as it turns out that they are a mess and this has helped my general stress levels. Second, I started seeing a hormonal reflexologist who is amazing and has serious helped smooth out the bumps life was causing meaning I take things more sensibly now. Karen is great. She is in Oxfordshire and is much recommended. You can find her website here.  And lastly, BF and I have slowed down. We’re trying to spend more weekends at home, more evenings at the gym or watching Futurama together. Just chilling.

I realised that you just have to sail through things, not just bump up against them until they give way.

So now, when M starts to get angry or pushes something which BF and I don’t want, whereas I would have maybe have reacted and started a fight which would have me looking like this in mere moments followed by a sobbing fit.

In fact I have tried to cultivate a general attitude to anything wedding related which leaves me feeling like this:

Look at Zen Bride. She is so relaxed she is doing YOGA in her WEDDING DRESS on a BEACH. How much more relaxed could you get?

Plus, what the hell?! This is something which doesn’t sit well with me in our sensible, enlightened culture. Why does a woman get to behave like an absolute bitch just because she is getting married? It’s absurd and frankly pretty pathetic for all women. Read this wonderful blog on Feminism and Bridezilla.

http://feministwedding.blogspot.co.uk/2010/11/bridezilla-is-anti-feminist-concept.html

It’s not fair on BF either when I go all Jackie Chang in a rage on him! He was more confused than I was all three times. M & D were similarly hurt by my increasingly aggressive rages and bouts of crying as all M wanted to do was make sure her daughter and future son-in-law had the best wedding they could have, and all D wanted was to not be yelled at.

Why the heck does it matter anyway? It’s one day in our lives; one. The birth of our first child, the day one of us gets that massive promotion, the day we buy our first house….these are things which are just as important as our wedding day and you’re not allowed to have stomping, screaming, fire breathing hissy fits over them. Does it matter if the groom suits are the wrong colour? Does it matter that the bridesmaids’ hair has fallen out or the only photo of you looking half decent shows your back fat?

We’re one of tens of weddings, all white, all as glossy and smoothly run as they can be and all trying to be perfect on that one weekend in August. There will be hundreds more that month and thousands that year. Why is our wedding so special? The only people it matters to are BF and I, with the parentals coming a quick second. Being a bride is not a right, it’s a privilege which you should treat as such. You are lucky to be doing what you’re doing, not entitled.

It’s certainly not worth upsetting my fiancée and my mother and my father simply because I can’t (let’s face it) have whatever the f*ck I want when I want it because I’m wearing a white dress.

That’s not Bridezilla; that’s just childish.

Dress Shopping is not as easy at it first appears.....

Here's the thing.

I have been genuinely excited about one major thing after BF popped the question and the dust settled a bit, and that was trying on wedding dresses. In those amazingly clean, expensive looking shops. Where everything in them is white. The colour favoured by Rich People. People who don’t care about spilling food down themselves because they can afford dry cleaning. And everything is a sort of rosy pink or mint green silk on the curtains or gold gilded. The shops you never go into unless you’re getting married. The shops I used to hate when I was single bah humbug.

I’m sure all ladies out there are with me here – actively going and trying on wedding dresses if you’re not engaged feels like a taboo. You just don’t do it.

Take that ridiculous jingle everyone over 60 seems to trot out at weddings: ‘Three times a bridesmaid, never a bride’. Which basically is saying in old fashioned lingo; ‘you will never find the love of your life if you’re always being a bridesmaid’? Gee whizzers. Harsh.  I can remember as a little girl being warned when I was bridesmaid for my cousin’s wedding by my Granny (God rest her), ‘Second time! Three times and you’ll never get married’ and genuinely feeling worried that it might come true.

I was nine.

These odd taboos get into our heads and boy, do they mess with it. By the time turn 5 in my Bridesmaiding career came around I was so resigned to being single I actually found myself wondering if there was something in it. After all I was, by the looks of it, never going to meet anyone, let alone marry them. It must be true! I am cursed! The fact that I met BF on my 6^th turn as a bridesmaid is testimony to what an absolute load of bosh the whole thing is.

Regardless, I would never, ever even THINK of trying on a wedding dress in a shop before I was engaged to anyone at any time of my life just in case.

So when I finally got around to trying on a dress I had built the whole experience up to Monstrous Proportions.

I was genuinely terrified. There was something about that massive white frock and its’ three to four number price tag that made the whole thing somehow a lot more real. So I put it off for a while until M, understandably very excited about seeing her only daughter in a wedding dress, finally cornered me and I reluctantly made some appointments with a trembling hand wondering what the hell they were doing to do to me for an hour and half long appointment.

Quick break from the story here for all those who haven’t been through the circus of picking a dress.

The way I see it, there are several kinds of wedding dress shops. You get your boutique shops where you have to make an appointment REALLY far in advance and everything costs over £1500 and the ladies are called ‘Chrystal’ and ‘Denise’ and where basically anything you put on will look stunning. Anything. Every dress in that shop is priced high for a reason. It might not be the dress for you but it’s beautifully cut and is made to make any woman look like a goddess.  Strictly no photos please. There is not a tiara in sight. They use special bands to tie up the back of the dress. The dresses are usually all made in the UK or America and are guaranteed to make you leave feeling that in fact £4000 is not a bad price for perfection really….

Then you have your mid-range shops (my favourite) usually in the smaller towns which sell lots of dresses made in Europe. There are a lot of Mermaid style dresses around at the moment in these shops. Lots. And lace. Lots of lace. The most expensive dress might set you back £1200 at most but mainly they are around £900. You usually get seen by the owner of the shop which makes you feel quite special. Always book to make an appointment. They have a selection of bridesmaid dresses and you get a good discount if you buy everything with them. Some places allow photos, others don’t. You get fastened up with elastic bands at the back and usually you want to buy from them as they are just so lovely. I am a fan of a mid-range shop. Although I didn’t see my perfect frock in any of them I had two amazing experiences at Katherine Allen Bridal in Banbury and Fantasia Bridal in Abingdon. If you live nearby GO! They are just lovely.

Finally you have your local bridal salon. I adore them. I really do. They are always run by women who know their stuff but have none of consummate showmanship that somewhere calling themselves a ‘boutique’ would have. Literally none. Once I was just given a dress and told to get into it. Just, you know, get in it. The dress stood up on its own and I didn’t even know where to start. There are none of the silk and satin changing cubicles, soft carpets or platforms to stand on which the Mid-range and Top and Mid-range shops have. Neither do you get cosseted. It’s plain business with these dresses. There are Tiaras everywhere. You get fastened at the back with a giant crocodile clip. And every dress has sequins. Every frock is a Princess Frock. Mainly the dresses are from China.

Then you have your sample sales. But more of this later.

I rang up for my first two appointments for a Mid-range shop in the morning and a Top-range shop in the afternoon with M. And I was incredibly nervous. I had a bikini wax. I wore a strapless bra. I shaved my legs. I was genuinely upset when my hair just wouldn’t dry!

M was pretty amazing. She is generally pretty amazing – she is buying my dress and said airily on the way that she had expected to pay £x so not to worry. Blimey, I thought. Blimey. Panic increased.

That morning I found out:
1)      I look really good in strapless dresses. Which is annoying as I get really peeved at the amount of people in strapless wedding dresses. It’s like every bride for the last 5 years has bought the same dress. I am starting to see why.
2)      I look pretty good in most wedding dresses. Ego overdrive yes. But I have always suited properly structured dresses (I did a lot of historical stage plays and spent a whole week in Edinburgh living in an 18^th Century frock). So actually, there were loads of dresses that would have looked lovely for BF and my wedding. That wasn’t the issue; these frocks are designed to look GOOD! It’s getting the right one for you that’s the problem….
3)      I love massive frocks and massive frocks love me. MASSIVE. MASSIVE! M restrained me in the end but there is nothing like looking at yourself in a dress that makes you feel like you’re in a Ballroom scene from a Victorian Melodrama….
4)      A belt really helps. It makes your waist look teeny. Genius.
5)      I do not suit a mermaid style dress. My bum is too big, my boobs too small.
6)      Sample sizes are weird. I fitted in one 14, not in another, another 16 was too small and then she laced me into a 10. Say what?
7)      If you’re getting married and are in a hurry, shop around for a sale dress. Wowser, you can get some good deals!

All that in one morning. Talk about a crash course in wedding dress shopping. By now my hair was dry and, feeling more confident, M and I packed into the car and trundled to a larger town. We had lunch and then went to our next appointment. Ellie Sanderson in Oxford. One of the top ranges. Eek!!

By now, despite my lovely experience of the morning I was getting nervous again. I imagined Pretty Woman and a snobby shop assistant. I even ran to loo’s to try and make my now insane hair (you lift dresses over the head – put your hair up!) actually sit in some kind of normal way. What I got was Acacia.

What a doll. Just a lovely lady. Down to earth, helpful and willing to find the perfect dress, she sat M and I in on the chaise lounge and talked us through the options. Using the knowledge I had gleaned that morning, she helped me pick out a few dresses to try and in I went with the special fastening on the back done up very quickly.

Naturally they were the most expensive ones in the shop but they were stunning.

The first one I tried on by Suzanne Neville could be cut to any shape on the top as they made it for me. It was stunning and had a price tag to match. But by god, internal corset, English cotton lace and a silhouette to die for, you were paying for a thing of beauty.

I didn’t think things could get any better and then tried on a Sassi Holford dress. Oh yummy.

By this point money and sense had gone out of the window and M and I were feeling slightly carried away. In the end we made ourselves go away, giddy with luxury, and think about it and reminded ourselves that we had plenty of time.

No, we didn’t. Every shop I went into told me bluntly that looking for dresses for a wedding 10 months away is actually not a long time. You need to order the dress in time for it to be fitted. Ordering before Christmas would be best. No pressure.

Argh. Argh.

Now came the Bleak Time. I tried on so many dresses. So very many. All lovely. But none the Right One.

I tried all ranges of shops. I had a brilliant experience in the very friendly shop in my home town at Brocades with M and MinL where, despite me having mild bronchitis, we tried on lots of wonderful MASSIVE frocks with some of the most down to earth shop assistants on the planet. But after a while I was in a big white blur. I couldn’t make M pay for the beautiful dresses I had tried on with lots of numbers in the price tag which had been the closest thing to what I wanted – I just couldn’t. And after a while….it becomes a chore. A CHORE! Finding your bloody wedding dress is just another thing to be done and ticked off the list. This was not right. Something had to be done.

I was not Bridechiller. No. Once again she was creeping closer, the panic inducing ‘I’ll just buy that MASSIVE Chinese frock because I don’t care anymore’ Bridezilla. And then the email popped through about the Sample Sale at Ellie Sanderson in Beaconsfield.

So with a bit of organising I got an appointment for 9.30am (with the philosophy that everything good would be gone later on), rallied the troops (M and Mrs McW – M because I wouldn’t buy a dress without her and Mrs McW because I wouldn’t buy a dress without her and also she had offered to see if she could make anything out of the usually small sample sizes for me to fit into) and off we headed to Beaconsfield.

Sample Sales are fun! I don’t care what anyone says. You get given a coloured tag and pop it on frocks. You share a changing room with another excited bride (there is just enough competition with ‘Oh, I like that dress’ to  ‘Get off it’s mine!’ to add piquancy to the experience while everyone is actually PICKING THEIR WEDDING DRESS together which is amazingly fun). You get whisked into the chosen frock and then wander out into this bright, hard edged territory filled with slightly harassed looking mums, very busy shop assistants rushing around dressed in funereal black and loads of youngish women in big white dresses turning this way and that in the mirror worriedly wondering if this is the one and if not, can they try on that dress over there that that other woman is in please? Now! Before she buys it!!

And occasionally you get to see the brilliantly smiling, joyful face of the girl who has found her dress at 50% off. Pricelessly wonderful to see I can tell you. I got a lot of vicarious happiness out of a few of those.

I was sharing a changing room with a very smiley young woman around my age with amazing red curly hair. In the end it got very jolly with us admiring each other’s frocks. I tried on few (all very nice but not right for one reason or another). M and Mrs MW found a veil reduced to £70 which had a beautiful lace edge and decided I was going to wear it (fair enough).

And then, I put it on. The Dress. It was about two sizes too small so this actual dress obviously wasn’t THE dress, but it was the perfect style. The price tag had one more number than was desired but having looked at me M said screw it. We put down the deposit that day and it was all up to me to get the weight off for the fitting in January. The best thing was that Acacia is going to be measuring me in the Oxford branch and I hope gets the commission from the sale. That woman had worked HARD when we’d seen her last!

Heading back in the changing room in my wedding dress the young lady sharing the cubical asked if I was going to buy it. I said yes, but not the sample as it was too small. I don’t know whether I recommended that she tried it on, whether she had already tried it on and liked it on me or whether she just liked it, but she wound up buying it. We swopped emails in the trendy pub where we’d both independently gone for a drink of champagne afterwards and I can’t wait to see how beautiful she looks in it.

I am allowed to be cheesy. It’s my wedding dress.