That Dress

This picture demonstrates the creative and photographic genius of my friend, Judy G. She always thinks of photographing the things that I don't--which is why she is good at photography and I'm not.

At any rate, she had the presence of mind to photograph the ruching on my dress, a word I don't think I had even heard before I started shopping for wedding dresses. It's a great feature--clearly flattering to the waistline--and yet one more reason I fell in love with that dress--one of my favorite things about this whole wedding experience.

The dress, like everything else, it seems, was not without its own story. I won't review the details of my finding and falling in love with my dress (I already blogged about that, and I'm not sure a piece of clothing, even an expensive one, deserves this many blog posts), as that was the subject of an earlier posting. And yet the story of the dress, and its accompanying bolero jacket, has suspense, adventure, heartache, and ultimately triumph.

The dress came into the store in the last few days of June, and I immediately made an appointment with the store-assigned seamstress, Dottie, to get things going on a major overhaul. Dottie, who is 82, is an amazing woman with a great sense of humor, who is about my height. Needless to say, we bonded. While certain brides, apparently, express some reticence about having an 82-year-old altering the dress of their lives, I never worried for a moment. Dottie exuded confidence and knew exactly what she would do to make things work. And at the last minute, she made a little bolero jacket for me to wear with the dress.

On the Saturday before the wedding, I went to Dottie's house to try my dress/jacket on one last time. The dress was coming along well, but the jacket, which Dottie had nearly finished, was not the right shade. The dress was not a pure white, but it wasn't ivory either, and the white cloth she had used did not work. It would require another trip to the sewing shop to find material to match, but Dottie assured me that all would be fine.

On Wednesday, the day I was supposed to pick the ensemble up after work, Dottie called to say that she had been sick and so she wasn't quite done yet--but she would finish. And then I said that I could pick it up Thursday afternoon before the rehearsal. When I showed up at the bridal shop, she told me that she still wasn't feeling well and hadn't finished my jacket yet, but I would have it by the next day, which was a good thing since the next day was my wedding.

Strangely enough, I loved Dottie so much and trusted her so that I knew it would all work out. Judy, the store manager, started offering to deliver everything to my house the next day, but as things worked out, I picked it up the day of the wedding as I was on my way to get my makeup done--about two hours before picture-taking began. By this time, my jacket was ready to go, but Dottie had been hospitalized. My jacket was the last thing she had worked on.

I've heard through the grapevine that Dottie is on the mend--which is great news. There are many more brides out there who will probably benefit from her expertise as soon as she's up to it. I'm thankful that she was a part of my wedding experience--kind of like a fairy godmother in my Disney-esque wedding.