It was a simple ivory colored natural silk dress, cut on a bias (I still don’t really know what that means) with a halter neck and a low back. I ordered it immediately, brought it to my parents’ house as soon as it arrived, and tried it on for my mom.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. ”But it’s not very ‘wedding dress-y.’”
We had very few mother-of-the-bride moments in our wedding planning process, but this one of my mom’s few interventions. She worried that I would regret wearing such a simple dress, and suggested that we go look at ‘real’ wedding dresses before I made a decision.
So, I reluctantly sent the dress back to J. Crew, and we set out to find the perfect substitute. We went to boutiques and warehouses, local shops and David’s Bridal. Eventually, I found another dress. It was nice and simple, with just the right amount of “wedding-y.” So, I bought it, brought it home, and hung it in my closet.
The problem was, much as I liked the new dress, I didn’t like it for me, didn’t feel like it was my dress. And in the weeks leading up to the big day, I became convinced that I’d made the wrong decision.
A week before the wedding, I went back on the J. Crew site to see if my first dress was still available. It had already been discontinued. So, on a whim, I logged onto ebay.
And there it was. My exact dress, in my exact size, with the tags still on it – for $23.
I bought it immediately, and paid the extra $10 for express shipping. The dress arrived on Tuesday, I took it in for minor alterations on Wednesday, and picked it up on Friday for our Sunday wedding.
It may not be everyone’s dream vintage wedding dress, but it was perfect for me. And as soon as the wedding was over, I decided that I needed to find a way to wear it again. I called dozens of dress shops, tailors, costume shops, and seamstresses. I wanted to get it dyed, but no one was willing to risk ruining it. As soon as you say “wedding dress,” all bets are off.
