Dress day that is. Time to breathe in and hold….. I’m off this afternoon, jumping on a train from Kings Cross to Darlington whizzing back up country and back home to stay with Mum and Dad for the weekend.
Tomorrow I have my first Wedding Dress fitting. We bought the dress nearly over a year ago with my Mum from the most unlikely of dress shops in Wingate of all places. That probably won’t mean much to you non northerners, but in short, Wingate is an old Durham mining village, and certainly not the type of place you would ever dream of finding the most wonderful bridal boutique. Hey ho.
Buying the dress was an odd experience. I have never been the little girl with her wedding all planned out by the time she was five. I didn’t even know what sort of dress I wanted, let alone what was in fashion. Mum and I had a brief afternoon window shopping to get ideas of styles and shapes.
We went to one particular shop in Darlington and had the ultimate pretty woman moment. You know the one where she goes into the shops the first time around and no one will serve her? Just like that. We went in and took a look around, waiting patiently for an assistant to come and help, making it clear we needed assistance but not wanting to look too keen…..eventually I had to go and find a lady, who took one look at me and Mum and morphed in to the ice queen.
When I asked her a question regarding a particular dress she looked down her nose at me and said ‘…I’m afraid you would have to go to London for the particular dress, we couldn’t sell it to you, you would have to go the Belgravia Boutique in Elizabeth street…’
At that point my heart bloomed, you see at the point in time I was living in Dolphin Square in Pimlico, ten minuets walk from Elizabeth Street. Boy did I enjoy replaying ‘Oh really? That is so convenient for me, you see I had traveled up here from Chelsea especially to shop with you, but Elizabeth Street, why that’s just around the corner from my apartment, thank you for being sooo helpful!’ and wafted out of the shop. Never to set foot across its threshold.
And so it was that Mum and I found ourselves in the bridal boutique in Wingate with the most attentive and knowledgeable young girl who devoted over an hour to me. I had gone into the boutique with an idea of what I wanted to try this time after weeks of studious research in Brides, and You and Your Wedding. I can’t find any photographs on line of the dress that I really wanted to try, guess it is now classed as last season.
In short it was a disaster.
I’m only 5’6″ tall but this dress had been designed for a 6ft size 8 blonde. I felt like I was drowning in fabric. There must have been at least two foot of fabric pooled at my feet. To make things worse, Mum burst in to giggles when I emerged from the dressing room.
Not the dress for me then?
I tried on four other dresses, each getting simpler and more elegant than the last, till eventually I found ‘the one’. It is so simple yet so classic, I love it.
I haven’t even tried to diet. I decided that I had so much else going on in my life, that making my self grumpy all for the aim of loosing a few pounds just wasn’t worth it. The seamstress has asked that I wear the underwear that I plan on wearing on the big day and bring my shoes too, so the dress can be fitted around me.
I’m quiet nervous. This weekend is officially six weeks to the wedding and I am getting nervous but excited butterflies just thinking about it. There seems to still be so much to organize. I have pages of lists covering every surface practically.
Deep breaths I think….!