A mere month ago I wrote a blog about being caught up in and thrilled about getting a dress for my daughter-in-law to be and my son’s wedding.
After long hours of sweat and toil, and driving to an absurd number of clothing stores, I have put a deposit down on the dress I will be wearing.
The story is long, and convoluted, but – of course – I am happy to share.
If you read the blog posted on February 22, 2016, titled Let The Shopping Begin (https://wendykarasin.com/2016/02/22/let-the-shopping-begin/) you will remember that I was to dress shop with the bride’s mom. We rescheduled due to a tsumani-esque rain storm that ran sideways in sheets of biting wind.
The day of our reschedule was nice but the dress situation was abominable. We found either prom dresses or (what is referred to in the fashion world as) ‘Mother of the Bride’ dresses. Each is ridiculous for different reasons. Prom dresses are for teens, and Mother of the Bride dresses (apparently this is a generic term inclusive of all mothers of anyone and everyone) are for centenarians. We were looking at glitter and glam and lots of skin or every part of us covered except for the knee down, and the neck up, in loose and unflattering materials and styles.
It was a dilemma I’ve heard discussed many times. Why has the fashion world not addressed this?
Then I found a missed call and a text from mother of the bride.
“I found my dress, it’s black. I love it!”
I was thrilled for her and a bit surprised. When we shopped, we were dead set against black. Our reasoning was this:
It’s a summer wedding. We want to set ourselves apart from our guests (who will undoubtedly wear black). We should blend with the bridesmaids in lavender-grey.
When we shopped together we looked at dresses in gold, silver, blush and magenta.
I love black and I show my loyalty by wearing it whether in workout attire, casual dress, or evening wear. Some part of me is always in black.
When I got the picture of her black dress with a sloping back, I felt a sigh-able liberation. Yeah, black, now I’ll find something.
And I did. My text to my new family will be: “I found my dress, it’s black. I love it!”
I tortured myself with colors like raspberry, orchid, plum and grape. Silver,sage and gold made me fade, nothing could be remotely like white (duh).
I admit to spending a few anxious hours and not fully restful nights picturing myself in bright (summer) colors. When black returned into the mix, my anxiety shrank, the world righted, and my comfort level returned in spades.
So what if we look like our guests (we won’t), or are not in bright summer colors (we are classy), or are wearing the same non-color? Who cares?
We are relieved, and onto the next big thing – shoes and bag. We are queens marrying our prince and princess. Queens are very busy people. Lesser issues like elections, terrorists, and Zika viruses will have to wait for another day.