Dressing The Mother Of The Bride

When my daughter told me she was getting married, I was really happy.  I love the guy she is getting hitched to; I can’t imagine a better fit. He is a wonderful young man who actually understands that under that sophisticated and erudite shell is a sweet and sensitive soul. My delight lasted a few days and then the reality of what the whole family had to embark on hit me.

I had to find a dress for the mother of the bride.

My anxiety and stress had nothing to do with my as yet unresolved feminist issues about marriage, (I’d given up years ago on that) or the fact that the wedding was taking place in a city none of us had ever been to and the logistics of such an endeavor were beyond my comprehension at that time (although I have now resolved that issue) but it was the big question.

What am I going to wear?

I not only had to satisfy my daughter’s insistence that I wear something blue, but I also had to think about the coordination of what I was going to wear with my future daughter in law, my daughter’s future mother in law and my sisters in law plus my husband, who was insisting he was NOT going to wear a frigging suit.  (His mantra since retirement) (Although to his credit he has come to senses and has undertaken to get his old suit dry cleaned and find a tie.)

This is a winter wedding.  As good luck will have it, the season has a plethora of dressy mother of the bride kind of things (mostly black). (Did I say I have never worn a suit in my life and my abhorrence of pantyhose is somewhat equivalent to my husband’s reaction to ties?) I had earlier thought to my self, I would not wear anything made of stiff taffeta and looked anything like what the Queen Mother would wear.

I had requirements in mind. Being a child of the sixties, the dress had to be diaphanous, loose and flowing to go with my greying long locks.  It had to be not too form fitting to go over my expanded mid section (from child birth –yes I know my last child was born 26 years ago but that’s what happens).  It couldn’t be too long because my legs are still my second best feature and it had to be low cut (I don’t need to say more-I have not quite rid myself of vanity.)

So I thought to myself this shouldn’t be too hard, maybe two weeks of intensive shopping.  Nightly forays into malls packed with Christmas shoppers, and daily excursions into small little boutiques.  I may find something and if I don’t well, I do have a back up, although a denim jacket and a flowery skirt may not quite fit the detailed description my daughter emailed to me. (Did I say the wedding planning was all being done via email and telephone?)

I was almost disappointed.  The vision of me trudging through malls with Christmas carols being played ad nauseaum was not too unappealing.  (Although I am a child of the sixties, I have not given up totally on consumerism especially my own.) I did go shopping and to my complete and utter amazement I found the prefect dress in five minutes. (Maybe finally I am part of some demographic that someone has tagged and is actually catering to.)

NB: I love Theresa in the special occasion section- I am going to write to her boss. She had me figured out right away.  (She asked I was a size 12 bless her heart) and brought the best diaphanous sparkly (did I tell you I love sparkles?) beaded dress to my changing room that fit and looked great.

Now I just have to find shoes.

After I find the perfect shoes I will have time to write more about the my unresolved feminist issues concerning marriage, counsel my daughter on the hazards of those issues, talk to my future daughter in law about how even though my son is almost perfect, and if he isn’t I want to know about it, she should always take care of herself, and then make sure all the cupcakes arrive safely at the ceremony site, and make lists for my sister in laws about serving those cupcakes, and cry a little that my daughter’s grandma won’t be there for the ceremony, and maybe once it is all done just relax and enjoy.

Because even though this wedding is small it is a big deal for us, because it is a celebration of love and there really is nothing more important that that!

And I know I will do my daughter proud because I will look great (I bought a body shaper!)

By Mick’s Mom, the mother of the bride