Feeling like a Bride... I think.

Tuesday I had my very first and fabulous dress fitting.

In February I began the quest that most bride's look forward to, but I dread: Finding the Perfect Dress. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE dresses, I enjoy shopping, and I'm as excited as the next bloke to find something pretty. The prospect of shopping for a wedding dress, however, filled me with apprehension. I had no idea what I was looking for, or what I was getting myself into.

My friends and I all managed to have a Saturday off, so we met up early and started to hit my local bridal boutiques (I live right on the edge of Greek-town, so there are a surprising number to be found). The very first place we went we were asked to remove our shoes. Now, I had been warned about this, but I thought it would be only in very eccentric, over-the-top shops. Apparently, this has become common practice throughout the industry. And me in my Christmas socks. At least they didn't have any holes. As we trotted through the store, I noticed several things:
1. Everything was VERY white.
2. Everything was VERY fluffy.
3. Everything was VERY big.
4. Everyone in the store was VERY coiffed.
I was lost in a sea of crinoline, taffeta, silk, satin, and many many layers of fabric. Not to mention many dimensions of ugly. We did manage to find a few un-heinous selections and started to carry them around.
Eventually, we were approached by an unsmiling sales woman who immediately took us to task: "Do you have an appointment?"
No hello. No good morning. No pleasantries. No smile. No appointment.
"What are you looking for?"
A wedding dress. No, seriously. A wedding dress. In a bridal store.
"When is your wedding?....Oh, that is not enough time."
Eight months is too short notice for one of these dresses?
"Well, we try them on, see what we can do." And off she goes to start a fitting room for me.
The fitting room is the size of my apartment. My friends and I crowded in and I undress. It took all four of us to get me into this dress. It's huge. It's about four feet too long, six inches too wide, and made me look like a little girl playing dress-up. Now, clearly all wedding dresses require some degree of alteration, and I'm sure that given half a chance this dress would look just fine on someone of greature stature. I, however, stand at a towering 5'2" and have a girth of about 120lbs soaking wet.
Still-unhappy sales woman pulled back the curtain, took one look at me and said "There are larger mirrors this way" and walked out fully just expecting me to follow. What's a shellshocked girl to do? My entourage (as they were all holding the dress on for me) followed me out into the parlour, past a woman who has very obviously had her hair and make-up done for this fitting and who looks mighty pissed that we are also in the room and GIGGLING no less, up onto a little pedistal in front of the world's biggest mirror.
I looked ridiculous. There is a picture of this, but it's print not digital so I cannot share, but we were nearly thrown out for taking it. It's about this time I realized that floor length is really not for me, so we mentioned this to Madame People Skills who informs me that they don't carry "Those kinds of things here."
We hauled my tulle toting tushee back into the fitting room to try on dress number two. In the midst of stepping out of one dress and into the other, topless, Ms. Acrimonious barged in with another dress shouting, "What do you think of this one?"
I think I'm topless and the entire store just saw my boobs, thank you very much.
It didn't help that down the front of the bodice were enormous fabric flowers made out to look like giant buttons. Yeesh.
Dress number two didn't even make it out of the gate. Still too big, still too long, still too ugly. It even had a little shoe-lace type bow around the waist.
Please note the face.
After taking one hillarious picture of my socks under a waterfall of tafetta, we decided it was time to move on.
We went to another traditional bridal store in the neighbourhood (much less traumatic, and therefore much less funny to relate) before we called it quits on tradition. I put my shoes back on, pulled up my socks, and headed to Queen West fashion district.
Along the popular strip is a store I have always loved but never purchased from: Pam Chorley's Fashion Crimes (http://fashioncrimes.ca/#). Inside I found every dress in every style I have ever worn or wanted to wear. I heard rock music. I smelled indie perfume. I felt at home. I got to keep my shoes on. And it is here that I found my almost-perfect dress. Then I discovered that I could make it into my perfect dress for only a fraction more of the price, and the price would include ALL alterations and fittings. I nearly fell over. The staff was friendly, happy, helpful, enjoying their work and even go so far as to remember my name weeks later. The other patrons in the store were SMILING and looked happy to be there. I was sold. And so, therefore, was my dress. I cannot post pictures or describe it here as of yet since Jim reads this blog and doesn't want to know, and I LOVE keeping happy secrets from him. ;) I bought and co-created my dream dress for under $500. (Did I fail to mention that all the traditional cake-dresses at Miss Surly's shop were all well over $1200?)
On Tuesday I had my first real fitting and felt like a rock star. I went early in the morning, right at opening so there was no one else in the store; just me, the staff, and thousands of pretty dresses, the prettiest one on my body. I have another fitting in just over two weeks wherein we will also discuss accessories and possibly good places to get shoes (shoes are giving me issues). I can't wait.
The joy of non-tradition is that I can actually get what I want. I can have my cupcakes on the table, not on my person, and eat them, too.