And about sixty dresses.
But there was one Laura just kept thinking about.
She first tried it on in Atlanta, where she lived for the summer. A store in Denver carries the dress, so she tried it on again while vacationing there.
Once settled back in Durham for the fall, she arranged for a loaner to be sent to a store about two hours away, one of only two stores in North Carolina to carry this particular designer.
Third time’s a charm, and if she liked it, this would be THE DRESS.
She stood in front of me, a cloud of white.
I gave it my mother of the bride major thumbs up.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“I guess this is it,” she said, spreading her hands over the skirt. “This is the dress.”
My daughter is a shopper’s shopper.
She gazed around the room.
This store stocked dresses she hadn’t seen in any other wedding store.
“I’d like to try on just a few more,” she said to the saleswoman.
The woman returned with a fluff of dresses.
But then the 26 -year-old shopper’s shopper shook her head. “I changed my mind.”
“So you don’t want to try these?” the woman asked.
“I don’t want to get confused. I love this dress.”
Laura turned to me. “Do you think I should try them on?”
If she tried on more dresses, the hunt wouldn’t be over, yet.
Sitting in the chair and watching your daughter model wedding dresses is about as fun as it gets.
You don’t have to stuff yourself into any crazy corsets. Instead you get to live the experience through a younger version, sort of, of yourself, with better skin and body and teeth and hair and who knows what else.
I took in a small breath.
My last child to be married.
My last chance to give a motherly opinion on matters of tulle and lace.
My last opportunity to comment on how the bosoms look with the neckline or the flow of the skirt or the length of a train.
The dress is gorgeous.
“No,” I said. “Get this one.”
And so the hunt, is, sigh, over.
Dress details to come after the June, 2013 wedding. The groom-to-be doesn’t spend much time on menopause blogs, but there’s no sense taking any chances.