Well, it happened. That “this is the one” moment. But it’s not a dress I would have ever picked out for myself in a million years.
After getting a call from Eva at the posh dress shop near my work, I went back to try on a dress that I’d requested, but they didn’t have the first time around.
It was one of my favourites from the brochure, and the fact it was called ‘Scotland’ seemed like a nice touch too. (Whenever Spanish people ask me where Durham is, I end up telling them it’s almost in Scotland.)
I’d been checking it on the internet all day (when did I turn into the sort of person who does that? Does getting married turn your brain to mush?) and was liking it more and more.
And when I was back under the hot lights of the changing room and put it on, it was definitely my favourite so far. But there still wasn’t a “eureka” moment.
Maybe I’d end up like the girl in the news who couldn’t make a choice, so she ended up buying 18 dresses, nine of which she wore for her big day. Then again, she spent ┬ú20,000 – so maybe not.
“Do you want to try on any of the ones from the other day?” asked Eva, after listening to me going “umm” and “err” and complaining about how wide my shoulders looked from behind.
“Oh, yes, can I try the Grecian-looking one?” I asked her.
But that one just looked kind of boring and drab after the Scotland dress. And it had been one of my favourites from the other day too. What was going on?
We had time for one more, so I asked to try on another of my favourites from the other day. But Eva pulled a face. That was not a good sign.
“It’s in another one of our shops,” she said. “And they don’t want to give it back to us, I asked the other day.”
God it’s cut throat, this wedding dress business!
“But I do have a one with a similar skirt that you could try, just to get an idea.”
When she brought the dress it was unlike any of the other dresses in the shop – in fact it was totally unlike any of the ones I’d ever seen. Something quite different. If I’d seen it in the brochure I would have ruled it out straight away.
But when I put it on it looked fantastic. And Linda thought so too.
“Don’t you breathe a word about what it’s like to anyone,” she told me. And she wagged her finger at me while she said it, so I knew she meant business.
The lovely lady is getting me the dress as a present so, of course I have to respect her wishes. And it kind of feels more fun that way too.
Plus, what if I describe it to someone or show them a picture and they think it’s horrible, then have to pretend they like it? It’ll be much easier for them to do that on the day, when I’m actually wearing it.
So it looks like I’ve found my dress. I’m going to think about it for a day or so (after all, you can never be too careful about these kinds of things).
But really, I think my mind’s made up.