No, these are not mug shots from the Alderson Federal Prison Camp for women. I’m happy to note that I have not been back there for quite some time.*
These are my bridesmaids and this is what a chiffon over-dose looks like.
I’ve seen the movie, “Bridesmaids.” I’ve seen “Revenge of the Bridesmaids.” I thought those were costumes.
The photos represent a Hurricane Katrina-sized collapse in my attempt to dam the bridal industrial complex. I should have known better. I should have blocked the bridal drum beat. I should have brought booze.
I wanted to blame our lame experience on the fact that, because I am a very old bride, my support team is, while younger than me, into its fourth decade. Unlike bike pants, however, bridesmaid dresses are not necessarily age-specific. I’ve been passed on a bike by many a millennial looking great in her spandex. I’d be hard pressed to find anyone that these garments, yanked straight from a 1950’s Doris Day movie, would flatter today.
I suspect a complex underground conspiracy which seeks to make the bride look better than the maids, no matter what. In other words, there is an “ugly” requirement.
Que Sera Sera. We’ve swished on.
Our second attempt – in the cocktail dress department of a plain ‘ol department store – yielded better results. Still, I regret that I forgot to bring actual cocktails.
Praise must be given where it is due, first to the department store clerks for not helping.
Second, to Claire,
for trying on a total of 18 dresses in one hour.
Third, to Krishna,
who got in and out of many a finely crafted garment without ever removing her jeans…
and fourth to Jenn,
who despite being probably the most wholesome of the bunch, tried on the dress most likely to be worn by Miley Cyrus during a performance at an awards ceremony.
It is here that I must thank these ladies for withstanding the bridesmaid fashion extremes and for agreeing to see this whole shenanigan through to the end. Only 3.5 more months.
*See earlier blog, “Captive Audience.”