Shopaholic Ties the Knot
Page 48
“You? Make paper flowers?”
“I could!” I say, slightly nettled by her tone. “I’m a very creative person, you know.”
“And what if it rains?”
“It won’t rain—” I stop myself abruptly.
I was about to say, “It won’t rain in the Plaza.”
“I just… know it won’t rain,” I say instead, and quickly turn a page. “Ooh, look at those shoes!”
“Ladies! Let’s begin.” We both look up to see Cynthia coming back, a clipboard in her hand. She sits down on a small gilt chair and we both look at her attentively.
“Nothing in your life,” she says, “can prepare you for the experience of buying your wedding dress. You may think you know about buying clothes.” Cynthia gives a little smile and shakes her head. “Buying a wedding dress is different. We at Dream Dresses like to say, you don’t choose your dress…”
“Your dress chooses you?” suggests Suze.
“No,” says Cynthia with a flash of annoyance. “You don’t choose your dress,” she repeats, turning to me, “you meet your dress. You’ve met your man… now it’s time to meet your dress. And let me assure you, there is a dress waiting for you. It might be the first dress you try on.” Cynthia gestures to a halter-top sheath hanging up nearby. “It might be the twentieth. But when you put on the right dress… it’ll hit you here.” She clasps her solar plexus. “It’s like falling in love. You’ll know.”
“Really?” I look around, feeling tentacles of excitement. “How will I know?”
“Let’s just say… you’ll know.” She gives me a wise smile. “Have you had any ideas at all yet?”
“Well, obviously I’ve had a few thoughts…”
“Good! It’s always helpful if we can narrow the search down a little. So before we start, let me ask you a few basic questions.” She unscrews her pen. “Were you after something simple?”
“Absolutely,” I say, nodding my head. “Really simple and elegant. Or else quite elaborate,” I add, my eye catching sight of an amazing dress with roses cascading down the back.
“Right. So… simple or elaborate…” She scribbles on her notebook. “Did you want beading or embroidery?”
“Maybe.”
“OK… now. Sleeves or strapless?”
“Possibly strapless,” I say thoughtfully. “Or else sleeves.”
“Did you want a train?”
“Ooh, yes!”
“But you wouldn’t mind if you didn’t have a train, would you?” puts in Suze, who is leafing through Wedding Hair. “I mean, you could always have one of those really long veils for the procession.”
“That’s true. But I do like the idea of a train…” I stare at her, gripped by a sudden thought. “Hey, Suze, if I waited a couple of years to get married, your baby would be two — and it could hold my train up!”
“Oh!” Suze claps her hand over her mouth. “That would be so sweet! Except, what if it fell over? Or screamed?”
“I wouldn’t mind! And we could get it a really gorgeous little outfit…”
“If we could just get back to the subject…” Cynthia smiles at us and surveys her clipboard. “So we’re after something either simple or elaborate, with sleeves or strapless, possibly with beading and/or embroidery and either with a train or without.”
“Exactly!” My eye follows hers around the shop. “But you know, I’m quite flexible.”
“Right.” Cynthia stares at her notes silently for a few moments. “Right,” she says again. “Well, the only way you can know is by trying a few dresses on… so let’s get started!”
Why have I never done this before? Trying on wedding dresses is simply the most fun I’ve had ever, in my whole life. Cynthia shows me into a large fitting room with gold and white cherub wallpaper and a big mirror and gives me a lacy basque and high satin shoes to put on — and then her assistant brings in dresses in lots of five. I try on silk chiffon sheaths with low backs, ballerina dresses with tight bodices and layers of tulle, dresses made from duchesse satin and lace, starkly plain dresses with dramatic trains, simple dresses, glittery dresses…
“When you see the right one, you’ll know,” Cynthia keeps saying as the assistant heaves the hangers up onto the hooks. “Just… keep trying.”
“I will!” I say happily, as I step into a strapless dress with beaded lace and a swooshy skirt. I come outside and parade around in front of Suze.
“I could!” I say, slightly nettled by her tone. “I’m a very creative person, you know.”
“And what if it rains?”
“It won’t rain—” I stop myself abruptly.
I was about to say, “It won’t rain in the Plaza.”
“I just… know it won’t rain,” I say instead, and quickly turn a page. “Ooh, look at those shoes!”
“Ladies! Let’s begin.” We both look up to see Cynthia coming back, a clipboard in her hand. She sits down on a small gilt chair and we both look at her attentively.
“Nothing in your life,” she says, “can prepare you for the experience of buying your wedding dress. You may think you know about buying clothes.” Cynthia gives a little smile and shakes her head. “Buying a wedding dress is different. We at Dream Dresses like to say, you don’t choose your dress…”
“Your dress chooses you?” suggests Suze.
“No,” says Cynthia with a flash of annoyance. “You don’t choose your dress,” she repeats, turning to me, “you meet your dress. You’ve met your man… now it’s time to meet your dress. And let me assure you, there is a dress waiting for you. It might be the first dress you try on.” Cynthia gestures to a halter-top sheath hanging up nearby. “It might be the twentieth. But when you put on the right dress… it’ll hit you here.” She clasps her solar plexus. “It’s like falling in love. You’ll know.”
“Really?” I look around, feeling tentacles of excitement. “How will I know?”
“Let’s just say… you’ll know.” She gives me a wise smile. “Have you had any ideas at all yet?”
“Well, obviously I’ve had a few thoughts…”
“Good! It’s always helpful if we can narrow the search down a little. So before we start, let me ask you a few basic questions.” She unscrews her pen. “Were you after something simple?”
“Absolutely,” I say, nodding my head. “Really simple and elegant. Or else quite elaborate,” I add, my eye catching sight of an amazing dress with roses cascading down the back.
“Right. So… simple or elaborate…” She scribbles on her notebook. “Did you want beading or embroidery?”
“Maybe.”
“OK… now. Sleeves or strapless?”
“Possibly strapless,” I say thoughtfully. “Or else sleeves.”
“Did you want a train?”
“Ooh, yes!”
“But you wouldn’t mind if you didn’t have a train, would you?” puts in Suze, who is leafing through Wedding Hair. “I mean, you could always have one of those really long veils for the procession.”
“That’s true. But I do like the idea of a train…” I stare at her, gripped by a sudden thought. “Hey, Suze, if I waited a couple of years to get married, your baby would be two — and it could hold my train up!”
“Oh!” Suze claps her hand over her mouth. “That would be so sweet! Except, what if it fell over? Or screamed?”
“I wouldn’t mind! And we could get it a really gorgeous little outfit…”
“If we could just get back to the subject…” Cynthia smiles at us and surveys her clipboard. “So we’re after something either simple or elaborate, with sleeves or strapless, possibly with beading and/or embroidery and either with a train or without.”
“Exactly!” My eye follows hers around the shop. “But you know, I’m quite flexible.”
“Right.” Cynthia stares at her notes silently for a few moments. “Right,” she says again. “Well, the only way you can know is by trying a few dresses on… so let’s get started!”
Why have I never done this before? Trying on wedding dresses is simply the most fun I’ve had ever, in my whole life. Cynthia shows me into a large fitting room with gold and white cherub wallpaper and a big mirror and gives me a lacy basque and high satin shoes to put on — and then her assistant brings in dresses in lots of five. I try on silk chiffon sheaths with low backs, ballerina dresses with tight bodices and layers of tulle, dresses made from duchesse satin and lace, starkly plain dresses with dramatic trains, simple dresses, glittery dresses…
“When you see the right one, you’ll know,” Cynthia keeps saying as the assistant heaves the hangers up onto the hooks. “Just… keep trying.”
“I will!” I say happily, as I step into a strapless dress with beaded lace and a swooshy skirt. I come outside and parade around in front of Suze.
