Sunday, September 27, 2009

Playing Dress-Up With the Diva

Meet my Mom. Lovely, isn't she? Do you see the family resemblance?

Mama C is notorious for her inability to make decisions, especially when it comes to her clothing choices. That's why as soon as the ring was on my finger, I was on her case to pick a dress for the wedding.

She started off strong, with a specific style and color in mind. Summer came and she swore she would have a dress before school started up again. Well, seven months have passed, and we are back at square one; hopeless and panic-stricken, staring at the calendar.

Here comes the bride, and she's on a mission.

I went home this past weekend with the sole purpose of finding Mom a dress. We had guaranteed winners on the list (Nordstrom! Macys! Bloomingdales!) We left at 9:45 am on Saturday in the pouring rain, and the day didn't get much prettier from there.

After stopping at a hideous bridal shop where we were relentlessly sassed and I overheard a bride saying she would be wearing tennis shoes on her big day, we decided to cut the nonsense and head to Tyson's Corner. I drove--in the rain, on 495, on a Saturday--and yes, we survived. Although I would've killed Mom if she hadn't stopped backseat driving.

I had high hopes for the day. I promised that if I stayed fed and didn't have to deal with any pushy saleslady, I would keep my whining to a minimum. I didn't understand why my mom was having such a hard time finding a dress; look at all she had to choose from!

We dug right in, trying on every style imaginable. Halters, V-Necks, Jackets, Beads, Strapless. You name it, she tried it on. Check out the action shot:

I had a few restrictions about what she was allowed to wear: no red (too flashy) navy blue (the bridesmaids are wearing that) or white/anything resembling white (no-brainer). She fought me on the red for a long while--"I look good in red! It's matches my complexion!"--but in the end I won. She decided herself that while she loves black, maybe this wasn't the occasion for that color.

Of course, every store we visited sold dresses in three colors: red, navy blue and black.
Things were looking grim; spirits were low.

Lunchtime came and went, and in an ironic turn of events, I was the one in high spirits pushing us along. It was hilarious to me to see how many other Mothers of the Bride and Brides to Be we ran into, all suffering along with us. We swapped horror stories with a few and trudged on.
We didn't find anything in Tyson's, but my vote went to this beauty:
Mom seemed a little unsure.

On the way out of Tysons we couldn't find our car (how many freaking Terraces does that place need?) and we had to ask a security guard for directions. Turning a corner we were immediately sidetracked as Mom squealed "DEVON! IT'S MY TURN TO TAKE A PICTURE!"

I had to give it to her. She had been such a good sport up to that point.

The rain was now pouring and Mom's head was pounding, but I insisted we push on. Stopping at another tacky bridal shop just made the situation even worse, as they pushed ugly dress after ugly dress upon us, and went so far as to try to walk into the dressing room while we were in there. Once the lady starting pestering me, the day was done.
We returned home at 5:00, just in time for happy hour. Seven hours of shopping with no results; we were officially defeated. All in all, it was an unsuccessful day. A few laughs were had, lunch was delicious, but Mom is still without a dress. Where do we go from here?


  1. Shouldn't there be some sort of TLC or Style Network show about this phenomenon? (don't steal my pitch!)

    Marie needs Carson Kressley or Stacy London to come help!

  2. Why are you wearing mom's sweatshirt?

  3. I think your mom should wear that little number that she wore when she picked us up from the 9:30 club.


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