Jaded Photographs

Whenever I run into someone I haven't seen in a while, I get to hear how surprising it is that I haven't yet been swept up by a knight in shining armor and am not hearing wedding bells. I get a little defensive, assuring them that I could go out any time I wanted to, could be married at the drop of a top hat.

The truth is, I don't fantasize about any future nuptials (not for me, anyway) but I do fantasize about trying on wedding gowns. My first time around, I was by myself, in an unfamiliar city, and feeling a little too chubby to look good in white satin and lace. No entourage of bridesmaids, no feuding mother and mother-in-law, nobody. I could have been shopping for a sweatshirt.

Next week, when we head to New York, we will be tantalizingly close to Kleinfeld's, the venerable wedding dress capital of the world, and home to Say Yes to the Dress. I suggested to my younger daughter that she, her sister, and I pay a visit to Kleinfeld's, claim that I am getting married, set a ridiculously high price point, and go to town. She found the idea of her old mother trying on fluffy wedding gowns a bit repulsive (I didn't mention I was looking for something red and slinky), although she said she would agree to the adventure if we claimed her older sister was the bride-to-be. How perfectly ordinary; where's the fun in that?

Maybe we should set our sights on some more minor tourist attractions, like Ground Zero. A friend just went with her daughter, and told me about the spectacle of people snapping pictures of their family members smiling in front of the memorial. Ew. Makes televised bickering over bridal gowns seem downright classy.

The truth is my time in the big city will be limited and I need to spend it doing what I enjoy most -- wandering aimlessly. For me, New York is still a place I think of as home -- one of my homes -- and I don't need to do any sightseeing. I can still remember Ground Zero before it was Ground Zero, and I will never forget the first time I trudged with my young family through the still fresh rubble to view all the tributes draped over the fence enclosing the hideous, gaping hole. No need to memorialize any of that in a photograph; some things just stick with you forever.

And if I were to wander into Kleinfeld's to try on wedding dresses, well that wouldn't just be memorable. It would be surreal. My mom assured me, back in the day, that had I been marrying someone Jewish she would have taken me there to shop for my gown. Do I feel as if I missed out on something? Sure, but it's not Kleinfeld's. It's the whole experience of sharing the joy of planning a wedding with my mom. Not with an entourage of bridesmaids and future in-laws. Just with my mom. But I was a different person back then, and so was she. It would not have been possible.

As cynical as I am these days, about marriage and everlasting love, I will have my nose pressed against the window of Kleinfeld's -- or some comparable alternative -- the moment one of my daughters announces an engagement. I will get swept up in the ludicrousness of spending inordinate sums of money on a virginal gown, of seeing my girls star in some anachronistic princess fantasy that can overcome even the most cynical among us.

Maybe they'll even let me try one on. If folks can snap pictures in front of a memorial to thousands who died well before their time, this old broad can take a spin or two on a pedestal in a fluffy wedding gown. No cameras please.