This Saturday I will commence - and conclude - the search for the perfect beach wedding gown. 3 places, 8 hours (with a lunch break), and dress after dress.
I've been avoiding this. I'll tell you why. 1) I'm afraid of pushy salespeople that won't respect the budget I've placed on this item and 2) I'm afraid I won't look beautiful. Allow me to rephrase - I'm afraid that I won't feel beautiful. That I'll get caught up with the negative, the imperfections.
I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid.
And now I'm coping. I'm starting to get excited. And I'm beginning to visualize myself in the perfect, most beautiful gown at the perfect, most beautiful pricepoint. Oh - and the sweet lady who helped me find it and whom I'll forever refer to as Laura. (For some reason I find Laura a particularly comforting name).
A few weeks ago, I sent The Stallion an email with the following assortment of dresses to see which one he liked best. I did this because he is adamant that he not see the dress until the day and because I wanted to see how our individual visions matched (or did not match) up. Are we on the same page when it comes to our undefined wedding theme/vibe/feel? We'll soon find out.
I've been drawn to the lace/organza/chiffon/tulle family, for sure. I've got to find the line between too far and not enough, and I need to match The Stallion in his level of dress. (Which will likely be chosen to match my level of dress in all actuality.)
So, the results? The Stallion responded with these two:
And, when forced to pick, his choice was this:
But who knows what I'll wind up with. I really have no clue what shape will look best on me.
And I've been toying with the idea of being a diva and doing a wardrobe change. The gown I can take pictures in the ocean in, and the other I can wear to both receptions (destination and home). I'm envisioning more of a cocktail dress for the latter. Something mobile. So much is yet to be determined.
And I must not forget that this dress must fit in my luggage. With everything else I pack to be gone for weeks. Luckily boots don't go with beach, or we'd have a serious problem.