All this wedding talk around my house reminds me of something I've asked my friends for years - Wouldn't it be fun to try on wedding dresses? Just for something different, I add as they look at me like I have holes in my head. Truly, though, wouldn't it be fun? I'm sure bridal wear proprietors wouldn't mind a gaggle of old women, primed from their margarita lunch, invading their store to pretend they can still pull off wearing white.
Maybe they offer a magic mirror that proffers the body and skin from way back when. And the energy.
While searching the wedding sites to study the groom's mother responsibilities, I wandered down different avenues in the wedding journey. The life of the groom's mother is fairly boring in the wedding map and one night I found myself segueing to a wedding dress site. I've often wondered what style I might choose for myself with tastes of a 52 year old woman. Today, I want the one pictured above.
I found the beauty on the Priscilla of Boston wedding dress site. (I doubt they'll mind me advertising for them.)When you click on the dresses, the model walks down the runway. Since I was dreaming, I only chose those over $5000. I had the most fun and killed at least a couple of hours.
Of course, I want it all - the youth, the body that comes with the model in the dress. Especially the long gloves that bring on the elegance. Okay, so I want to feel enchanted, without all the nerves of a wedding day. I can still imagine, can't I?
Looking at my wedding pictures, my dress has the definite stamp of the late 70's.
In August, 31 years have passed since I walked down the aisle. A gentleness of excitement existed at that time -- the advent of a new adventure. Uncertainty and wonder at what the choices made might bring. Oh, what a ride it has been -- and continues each day.
Thirty years ago I had my wedding dress cleaned and packaged in a box for posterity. I think that box occupies the back of the closet underneath the stairs. What was the purpose of preserving it in such a manner? I have no daughter who might want to wear it. I couldn't get my left arm in the Size 5 dress today. But stuffed in the closet doesn't seem fitting either.
One year at a Halloween party, my friend wore her wedding gown from her first marriage. That she could still get into it 20 years later impressed the hell out of me. Impressed me more that she pinned "dead" worms on it and smeared dirt on her face and the dress. Made herself look just like a bride from the grave. Oh, Halloween. Brings out the best of us, doesn't it? I believe I went as a pig - a costume I'd made for my husband years earlier. Died pink long underwear with ten baby bottle nipples inserted on the front, a cute pig nose, and pink pipe cleaner twirling from my tail.
The point was, maybe I should dig my wedding dress out of the depths of the closet, take a look at it. Spread it out on the couch. Trace the lace between my hands. I won't pin dead worms to it or smudge garden dirt anywhere (although some days I might feel like that.) Perhaps I'll just gaze at it and recall the day when promises were made with love in our hearts and eyes -- and hope for another 31 years of life together.