I swore up and down for years and years and years that I would never be a bridesmaid again. That strategy worked for years and years, for the simple reason that nobody was getting hitched. I never really stopped to consider that. "I'm off the hook! I've declared my intentions. Nobody will dare ask me now." Until I wavered, that one time, when I was asked to be a groomsman. I mean, I hadn't declared that I wouldn't be a groomsman, so I hesitated and considered, and hemmed, and hawed, and finally said no (then agreed to do a reading at the wedding (the ex-boyfriends wedding, fyi) which Kiwi ended up doing for me since I was busy burying family members that particular week).
That one moment of hesitation, shared and discussed with real friends and virtual friends, netted me a visit to David's this weekend. Kiwi knew I was weak, and she went in for the kill last summer. And now I'm a bridesmaid again.
So, Kiwi came down for the weekend and made us an appointment at David's. My response? "You need an appointment? At David's?" I just wanted to look at the horrifying dresses and make fun of them. How am I going to do that with a bridal consultant telling me about all the latest taffeta technology? Turns out I didn't really need to be that worried. Our bridal consultant (is that what they are called? I would call them unhelpful) had a neck tattoo, and tats all up and down her arms. I think she may have been loudly chomping gum too - but if she wasn't, she had that hands on hips attitude of a gum chomper.
She asked us what we were looking for (jeans, t-shirt and dress Birkenstocks?). Kiwi has declared that the only rule is that the dress has to be floor length and lapis. They can all be the same, or different. And thank god for that - certain dresses just don't work on certain people. Our bridal consultant, let's just call her Tats, pointed out that the lapis is a slightly different hue each different fabric and suggested that Kiwi pick a fabric for us to stick with. Kiwi wrinkled her nose and said "I don't care about that. They don't need to be exactly the same." Tats was horrified. Like Kiwi would regret forever mismatched lapis fabric. Please. Tats disappeared forever once we started searching the racks. So much for needing an appointment.
We tried to search the racks for dresses, but it proved to be pretty difficult given the 134,000 people that were in the store at 2pm on a rainy Saturday afternoon. If you are a people watcher, I'd highly recommend packing a camp chair and spending the afternoon. Holy Jeezus. There were 16 year olds looking for prom dresses (speaking of horrifying, check out what prom dresses look like these days); hordes of 22 year old children scurrying in and out of dressing rooms, clearly thrilled about getting to look like Cinderella for a day; older women beaming at the prospect of their 2nd, 3rd, 4th wedding; and everywhere you look, big, bouncy, fluffy, puffy dresses. And kids. Little ones I could have hidden under my big fluffy skirt. I nearly knocked several of them over. I think they were stunned into a standing coma by the colors and sparkles. Every person trying on wedding dresses had brought at least 17 people with them to ooh and ah and take up space where I needed to be.
We secured a fitting room, no thanks to Tats, and I proceeded to try on a dozen dresses or more. In and out of the dressing room, fighting my way through small children and giggling teenagers. All the dresses were basically the same; shiny and overpriced. Oh, and scratchy! And soon, I will own one. In lapis.
I'm totally wearing Birkenstocks with it.