Good afternoon! Well it’s not often we get to share two posts with you in one day but we thought we had to make an exception in this case! You see, after Dom told you all about her search for her wedding dress this morning we found out something interesting… it turns out we’re not the only ones keeping a diary of our wedding experiences! It turns out that Mother of the Bride (and our amazing wedding helper) Kathryn has also been jotting down her thoughts, and after she showed us what she’s been doing we simply had to share it with you! So, you’ve heard from the Bride, now here’s the perspective of my future Mother-in-law as she helps my struggling bride in her search for “THE” Dress.
Okay, so one day I’m watching TV and my daughter Dominique comes in and tells me “Mum, it’s your job to arrange appointments so that I can try on wedding gowns”. Holy Moses! Where do I start with that one> Sheffield, Manchester? No let’s be sensible for now and try somewhere local…actually as it happened not too local as I confess I don’t think that the skin rash I was carrying at the time helped us in our most local of boutiques! (although come on, it’s not like I had the plague or anything!) So branching out a little further afield York seemed the obvious choice; somewhere I’m a big fan of and great for independent shops and craftsmen. Three appointments were duly made at 11, 1pm and 3pm respectively. Sorted, what could possibly go wrong?!
Okay, it’s 11.20 and we are still 5 minutes away after following a tractor and then a slow lorry all the way to the outskirts of York. Marvellous! I don’t think!
Having phoned through our apologies (and after I had calmed our anxious bride) we eventually arrived. Dresses were hung up on both sides of the room and we were asked to choose a variety of styles. Dominique and I squirrelled through a vast array of styles, lengths and shades. We furtively looked at each other, telepathically sending “HELP” messages: the blind leading the blind! We eventually came up with three and then four dresses. I stayed in the main room whilst Domi was led away to be “dressed”! At first I was a little offended that they thought I hadn’t taught my daughter well enough to be able to dress herself but apparently the theory behind the separation is that I might not know about an array of tattoos or piercings she might have kept hidden from me all these years. After eventually convincing them that this wasn’t going to be a problem I was allowed to be present for the rest of the fittings.
There were two dresses but really only “the one”. She looked like it was made for her, not just in the way it accentuated her figure but in the way that it fitted her personality perfectly. Also she could actually walk in it (an issue which had been the source of many a nightmare with all sorts of happenings in my dozing land of nod!) This one was going to take some beating! We both glanced at the time: 1pm was fast approaching! We quickly gathered up our things and left with the promise that we could come back and try again later in the afternoon is Dominique so wished.
We chatted going quickly up the road before realising that neither of us knew where we were actually going! Phone out, sat nav on…yep, we were headed in entirely the wrong direction. Anyone knowing the pair of us will not be surprised!
We went into the next appointment with a little more know-how and a little of the new wedding terminology that seemed to go with the wedding dress phenomenon and which we were fast becoming proficient in! Or so we thought…
We were now introduced to the world of “Brook”, of “Tracey”… every dress had a woman’s name attached and was duly dropped over Dominique’s head as she disappeared behind huge chocolate curtains that swished open on cue at each change of dress. After a false start we found one that was a good fit and that Dominique looked good in. But that was it: she looked good, not amazing. There was no WOW factor (although the lady in attendance was convinced that if she stuck Dominique in the window it would bring the clients flocking in to her!) But it was a no-can-do, so we swiftly gathered up our belongings and headed for the last appointment (with the aid of our sat nav!)
On the way we shared a joke at some of the “names” of the dresses and at just how badly my face give our private joke away in reaction to some of them, particularly the “Marilyn Monroe” style!
And so, up the stairs we climbed for our final appointment where we were met by even more dresses and, after a bit of a wait, were duly presented with 5 rings each to put on the dresses we liked. Here we go again! With dresses eventually chosen into the changing room we marched. Okay, first dress on, walk to the front, stand on box, admire or critique, NEXT! Now I’m not being funny but no size 12 is going to fit into a size 8, but try they did and back came Dominique: walk to the box, admire or critique, back to the changing room… this continued for a while with ever growing gaps in between. During one change I poked my head in to see what was going on.
Trying to get a tight dress off your hips is no mean feat and as I watched the girl help Dominique try to wriggle free with elaborate hip gestures I was shot with looks ranging from “don’t you dare laugh” to “why me?!” When I asked I was told they would only get your size if you were buying which made no sense at all to me. How anyone could choose a wedding dress they’ve not been near was beyond me.
We left soon after to have a chat about our experience and decide whether we had found THE dress or not, but from the look on Dom’s face and the way my heart swelled with pride when she tried on the earlier dress I think I already knew the answer!
