So, you know, being a bridesmaid comes with different responsibilities – throwing and attending showers and luncheons, organizing a bachelorette party, smiling while your friend dresses you in yards of brightly-colored fabric and taking many many many phone calls about lilies, no roses, no lilies, no gerbera daisies, no gardenias. Yes! Gardenias with gerbera daisies and calla lilies!
Ahem.
You see, a few weeks ago I was minding my own business, going about my day when I saw that I had a voicemail. It was Best Friend Ever, heretofore referred to as The Bride. Now, when you are a Bridesmaid and The Bride calls, you answer because The Bride is probably likely facing some sort of crisis relating to calligraphy or something that seems VERY important at the moment and, hell, because you didn’t answer the phone she had to handwrite all of the invitations herself because she just couldn’t make a decision without consulting 60 people first, right? Right.
The Bride’s message to me, in her Most Serious Bride Voice, was, “I need confirmation from you that you have your bridesmaid dress because it has been discontinued. Call me as soon as you get this.”
And so everyone knows what happens next. Of course I hadn’t ordered my dress yet. Of course I had procrastinated because buying a dress early for no good reason would be quite out of character for me. They have racks and racks of flowy dresses that coordinate, right? Buying a dress four months in advance seems overkill to someone who changes outfits three times before heading to meet friends for dinner.
To you procrastinating bridesmaids, I caution you: Do not put off buying your dress for even one moment. Stop reading, stand up and go to the bridal store right now and buy that dress.
Because, you see, the bridesmaid industry is a racket. You see aisles and aisles of dresses in every color and size and this lulls you into a false sense of security. What “they” don’t tell you is that there may come a moment when your particular dress will be discontinued. And sure, you’ll think, “Well, I bet I’m not the only who didn’t get the dress in time.”
But you will be wrong.
Back to The Bride’s Very Important Voicemail.
Because I am clearly the dumbest person in the world, I called The Bride on my cell while I had the Super Massive Chain Bridal Store on the other line on my Blackberry.
“Did you order you dress?” she said in a low and serious voice.
“Um, no, but I have [Super Massive Chain Bridal Store] on the other line.”
“YOU DIDN’T BUY THE DRESS!”
“It is being taken care of,” I said, in a voice as soothing as I could muster. “I promise, give me 10 minutes.”
Well, it didn’t take 10 minutes. In fact, it took many many minutes (ok, two hours) of phone calls to the Super Massive Chain Bridal Store about what color I needed and trying to remember which of the sizes I’d tried on had looked best and which style exactly it was.
And then The Bride called back.
“I cannot believe you didn’t order the dress.”
“I know, I know, I’m a terrible person. I’m working on it.”
“Do I need to treat you like a child?”
“Um, YES. Have you ever met me? I am the least reliable person you know.”
“[Charming!]”
“I have to go; I’m on hold with the dress store.”
So I finally got someone to tell me that my dress wasn’t here, but that it was in Florida. A nice man in Florida told me that the dress wasn’t there and I should go to my “home” Super Massive Chain Bridal Store and have someone there help me.
“Well, that’s a problem,” I said.
“A problem?”
“You see, my ‘home’ store isn’t exactly speaking to me because I might have accused them of ruining my best friend’s special day, so now when I call they just put me on hold for twenty minutes until I hang up and call back and they put me back on hold because they must have caller ID.”
And then he chuckled. And that chuckle told me all I needed to know – my “home” store wouldn’t be helping me because I’d become hysterical and they probably deal with dozens of hysterical people with actual complaints on a daily basis, so my sarcasm and anger over my own irresponsibility wasn’t going to win me any points.
Somehow, someway, someone told me that the dress might be in Pennsylvania. It was either that or eBay and I wasn’t seeing it on eBay. If I couldn’t find it online anywhere, I guessed I could buy a lighter color and have it dyed red. Not that anyone I talked to seemed to think this option was working.
Things were not looking good for the Procrastinating Bridesmaid. One well-meaning Super Massive Bridal Store employee suggested that I could wear a different dress in the same color that would “blend.” I stopped short of suggesting to her that she call The Bride to offer that suggestion herself.
Thankfully, after a few phone calls where I used my best Sweet Southern Belle Voice, I landed on a store that had it, in the right color, in the right size, on sale for $40.
In Pennsylvania.
“Can you come get it tonight?” asked the Salesgirl, who could only hold dresses until the close of business.
“Not so much,” I said, thinking of how much a plane trip to pick up my dress would cost.
So they mailed it me. And it arrived this week, perfect, in tact, ready for the big day (next year).
Of course, I still had to tell The Bride, who, amazingly, was not taking my phone calls on that fateful Friday night. And I don’t blame her for being mad – I had three months to order the dress and I didn’t. This crisis was my own damn fault and I wouldn’t have blamed her for debridesmaiding me in that instant. Planning a wedding is stressful and time-consuming and she had every right to assume that I would hold up my end of the bargain.
So I left her two voicemails, sent her two texts and called my Maid of Honor. The Bride responded with a sweet text later that evening and called me on Saturday, amused by the whole thing, especially since the very confused Maid of Honor (who of course ordered her dress on Day One) had also called her to relay the message.
The whole ordeal seems funny now, especially when I mimic the immature fit I pitched with the store, which definitely included me saying, “Oh, I don’t suppose you’ll take back five other dresses from five other people purchased at five different stores in five different states at five different times and just let us start over, now will you!”
The thought of disappointing my best friend made those two hours of frantic searching horrible. It’s symbolic of how I’ve been treating close friends lately. Poorly, to say the least. I get so self absorbed at times that I let things slip by. And meaningless deadlines aren’t so meaningless when you’re letting people down.
The up side? I saved more than $100 while simultaneously gathering tons of fodder for a toast at the rehearsal supper.
