we're going to get dressed for success

Wedding planning insanity, post number two: the wedding dress

Ah, the wedding dress. It presents something of a wedding planning conundrum. On the one hand, you only wear it for one day. Really only about six hours of that day. On the other hand, you will have pictures hanging in your house and your relatives' houses for all to see of you in that dress for the rest of your life. What is a girl to do?

Well, a girl like me totally lucked out and not only fits into her mother's wedding dress but actually looks pretty good in it (well, once we nixed the puffy sleeves and took out the full skirt and lowered the neckline). But despite the magical moment between mother and daughter, I did still feel a nagging in my brain for the 'wedding dress experience'. I wanted to try on dresses and stand in front of a big mirror with my mom and friends sitting behind me on a couch, getting sentimental when the bridal consultant puts a veil on me.

So while I was home for the past week, I did just that. My friends and I had a total blast at two different bridal shops in the ATL (Kellys' Closet and La Raines), and my mom and I tried to contain our 'how much?!' gasps at the bridal shop at Saks Fifth Avenue. I highly recommend the experience to all would-be brides. I think knowing that I wasn't seriously shopping for a dress made the whole thing so enjoyable - there was no must.find.the.dress stress.

But then I found the dress. The one that made me smile nonstop, the one I couldn't stop thinking about, the one that my mom and all my friends went 'aw' when they saw it. It was the most ridiculous dress ever - a giant cupcake-style dress that made me feel stunning with a dash of whimsy. And, as it is with all wedding dresses, it was just about as unpractical as a dress could be. Far too fluffy and formal for the casual outdoor wedding we're planning. Far too expensive for where the dress fell on my list of wedding-budget priorities. And far too frilly for the miso - I think he would have heart failure when I rustled down the aisle in all my silk shantung glory.

The dress also didn't meet my two requirements for any element of this wedding: no stress and no waste. This dress was definitely both. Figuring out where to buy it, where to alter it, and where to store it was giving me a headache. And I already had the perfect dress for the right price thanks to my mom. A second dress would just be a giant waste of money (and resources, and i'm sure there's some unethical practices somewhere along the production line).

But the dress kept its hold on me. I kept sneaking looks at pictures of me wearing it and stalking ebay for a discounted version. And then the best thing possible happened: I made the dress an option. I decided, screw it. I will say yes to the dress. It's my wedding, and I can wear a giant fluffy dress. I called a place in Cupertino that had the dress, made an appointment to come in, and sorted out where to store the damn thing. Once I did that, the dress lost its hold on me. Poof.

So now my mom's dress is being cut and sewn and tightened and loosened by some wonderful women at a local alterations shop in Atlanta. And, like a sign from the universe, on the way back from the shop, I found the perfect pair of ballet flats (all natural fabrics) that matches the yellow sheen of my mom's thirty-seven year old dress. On super sale.

All of which means I can now drastically increase the invitation budget...hello local artisan letterpress with vegetable inks and tree-free paper!

And I am totally reserving the right to put a picture of me in the cupcake dress on the save the date cards. I'm thinking of this for the caption: Katie's ready for the weddin'. Are you?