My cousin's daughter just got engaged, and we are so excited! They live in New York, which means they could very well be shopping at the venerable Kleinfeld's for the wedding dress, which means maybe my daughters and I can go along for the ride. We want to be there when she says "yes to the dress."
My cynicism about the institution of marriage notwithstanding, the prospect of participating in the dress selection has me all in a tizzy; maybe it's because I never really got to enjoy the full experience when it was my turn. I went to a small bridal shop by myself, picked a dress according to affordability, and thought myself too heavy to look decent in anything big, white, and fluffy. Frankly, I can't even remember if the salesperson bothered to take the time to assure me I looked breathtaking.
I have more than made up for my pathetic wedding dress shopping experience over the years, enjoying the company of my mom and various girlfriends and an occasional daughter when I outfitted myself for my children's bar and bat mitzvot. I may not have been a starry eyed twenty-something fantasizing about her fairy tale day, but, each time, as I stepped out of my workout clothes in the dressing room and stepped into a beautiful gown, I was sure I knew how Cinderella must have felt.
When I watch my favorite reality show, Say Yes to the Dress, I try not to judge the brides-to-be too harshly for the inordinate amount of importance they place on this anachronistic frock that they will wear one day for a few hours and then pack away for eternity in a box. The dress might very well be the best thing they ever get out of the marriage. Maybe it's all worth it for one day of bliss and years full of wistful memories.
I never even had my wedding dress cleaned. It went, eventually, from a hanger in my closet to a corner on the floor of my daughter's closet, always ready for an impromptu dress-up session with friends. I have no idea where it finally ended up, and I don't really have any plans to look for it. For me, it would conjure up a scared, insecure young woman who felt disconnected from everyone, even when she mumbled the words "I do."
My cousin's daughter is nothing like the unsure bride I once was, and I know the year of planning this wedding will be filled with joyful memories and lots of genuine excitement. I fully expect that my own daughters will one day enjoy the "wedding experience" in a similar manner, whether they choose to elope or go through the whole damn rigmarole. They are both on their way to being far more sure of themselves than I ever was.
Still, I am at once thrilled for my cousin's daughter and cynical about everything that will go into planning this one day in her life, which will bear little relevance to her life as a married woman -- happy or not. Cynical about everything except the dress. Please invite me; please say "yes!"
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