Never the bridesmaid, always the bride
Today is the first of my sister’s two weddings; the ‘unofficial’ (legally official but sentimentally unoffical) one at a London registry office. Being a woman means having to wear a new dress to every wedding and while I already have my dress for the unoffocial official wedding (The Big Party), I realised yesterday I had nothing to wear to the registry office. So Joni and I headed over to Westfield Stratford to pick up a frock.
Firstly, never take a toddler (who can’t quite toddle but is desperate to practise at all times) shopping with you at Westfield. Secondly, never take a toddler shopping with you. Thirdly, never go shopping at Westfield. Don’t test it out, simply learn from my mistake. You see, perusing the latest collection of silk dresses in pastel hues lined up in Reiss may be pleasurable for mum but it is the most boring activity possible for a child. A packet of raisins, a face-sized rice cake, her favourite book – nothing could distract Joni from sheer boredom.
I was about to abort my mission but decided to do a quick sweep of the women’s clothes shop on the level we were on. And that’s when I realised that every single nice dress currently on the market is WHITE. How has this happened? Surely, the main reason for buying a dress this summer will be because you’re going to a wedding and DURRRR – you can’t wear white to a wedding unless it’s you getting hitched. But the dresses were so nice and I desperately needed something to wear… And that’s when I realised that this is the fashion houses’ cunning ploy: women don’t want to be bridesmaids, they want to be the bride so let’s allow them to play make-believe by offering ONLY WHITE DRESSES this season.
Of course, I play by the rules, and it’s my sister’s Big Day and I had mine four years ago – so I didn’t even try on the bride-dresses-posing-as-bridesmaid-dresses. I instead ran through the crowds pushing the buggy really fast so that Joni might be persuaded that she was actually on a really fun rollercoaster rather than being shoved into a lift in a shopping centre on our way back to the bleak underground car park to find our car, which is always ridiculously difficult.
So now it’s Saturday and the official unofficial wedding is looming and I have nothing to wear, except the dress my mum bought me from Topshop for my birthday, the one we agreed would be great for all the parties i’m going to this summer forgetting that they are all weddings, the WHITE fucking dress hanging on the door of my wardrobe. My sister is pretty chilled about today’s wedding and said I can wear whatever I want (hotpants included) but if I put on this white dress and arrive at the registry office, it’s quite possible that i’ll be mistakenly addressed as the bride. And that’s not on. So i’ll put that white dress to the back of my wardrobe, pull out something respectable and guest-rather-than-bride-like and berate myself for being a total sucker and buying a white dress that will now be redundant until I renew my vows.