the dress

This past weekend I caught the Eurostar back to the UK to my sister’s home and my mum drove up and we went shopping for my brides dress.

(Ok, just in case that post a few days ago was not a big enough hint, and some of you missed the announcement – Rasmus and I are getting married 🙂

Booking the appointments at the bridal salons a few weeks back, I would casually drop in the fact that I was getting married in October and then hear the phone being dropped in horror at the other end, before I was demanded to confirm if I was serious, I am really getting married. in. four. months. Yes I am.

This was the point they would all inform me they *may* be able to get me a dress in time, but they’d probably have to put a rush order on which would cost more.

What? Four months is rushing it? I mean, I realise that this is shorter than most people in Europe these days are engaged for. But it had never even crossed my mind that I might have trouble getting a dress. in. four. months.


In one shop we were in another girl was dress shopping with her mother and mother-in-law-to-be. It was all getting quite pressured and uncomfortable on their side of the room as we tried to make ecncouraging noises every time she tried another dress on. And then my mum politely asked when the wedding was? Summer 2011. Yes, not even next year, but the year after that.


So all this bemused rambling is not to mind that people dress shop that far in advance, or even that they have two year engagements, or because I feel I should let you know that apparently all the wedding dresses in the whole world are made in China and shipped across in huge tankers in bulk.

I just wonder, how am I supposed to know this? I mean honestly, who would have guessed it takes so long to buy a wedding dress?

Well, the happy ending to my tale is that I found a beautiful (of course right!) dress, ironically by a Belgian designer, and they sold it to me off the rack, and the only fitting it needs is a little taking up at the bottom (coz no way am I wearing high heels the whole night)


p.s. in case you’re wondering, no, none of these dresses is mine. And I’m not even telling you if any of them look like mine. Coz I know of one very curious man reading this post…

p.p.s. I promise that not every post from now on will be wedding talk, but hey, it will be a big part of my thoughts the next four months, so you may occasionally have to put up with chatter about escort card tables, whatever they are.