If the gown fits
I learned something important this past weekend: Buying a wedding dress is very serious business.
And why shouldn't it be? There's probably no other article of clothing that a woman deliberates and frets over more in her lifetime. It's arguably the most important piece of the puzzle on the most memorable day of a woman's life.
Now, lest the rumors start flying, let me clarify how I gained this newfound knowledge: It was during a wedding dress expedition this past weekend with my best friend Jenny, who is the lucky bride-to-be.
It's a good thing she's my best friend, or else I might be tempted to get insanely jealous, since she's marrying a funny, smart, cute guy who adores her and just happens to be a lawyer.
That jerk.
From her home in Topeka, we set out Saturday morning for Kansas City, in search of the perfect dress. Our first stop of the day was at David's Bridal in Lenexa.
Little did we know that we were heading into a realm of chaos.
David's Bridal was a pretty big place, with endless racks and racks of wedding dresses in plastic bags. And endless mirrors, in front of which paraded girl after girl in all manner of wedding dresses: off the shoulder and long sleeved, sparkly and simple, poofy and sleek.
A realm of chaos.
But there was a method to all the madness; we just didn't know that yet. We dived into the rows of plastic bags, searching for the perfect dress that was simple but not too plain, long-sleeved, not too revealing — and, of course, dirt cheap.
Oh well, you can't have everything.
Jenny found a few she liked, and we set off in search of the dressing rooms. I saw a curtained-off area and assumed we'd just head back and grab any room that was open.
Good thing we didn't, or we might have found ourselves sharply reprimanded by one of the more aggressive workers: a tall woman in gold lame who addressed everyone as "Girl."
See, there's a system in place here: first, fill out some paperwork, which a worker attaches to a hanger. Next, the attendant assigns you a dressing room and a worker to lead you there.
But once you're back there, you're not left to your own devices. Now you undergo a barrage of questions, most of which have something to do with various sorts of sizes.
And while you're attempting to try on gowns, just outside the curtain even more girls parade in front of mirrors. There's nowhere to hide.
It's chaos.
Finally, we finished at David's Bridal and went to the JCPenney Outlet Store in Overland Park. Things were quite different there — no more nosy attendants, no more strange girls strutting around in tiaras. Just a dressing room and a mirror and a bored worker who tells you when a room is open.
I guess it's all part of Jenny's bridal experience. I did have a blast that day. And just think — that lucky girl gets go through it all over again when I get married.
— JENNIFER WILSON
