Remember my dress? The one I loved so dearly and got a killer deal on?
Ever since my grandma offered to loan me an insanely amazing piece out of her jewelry collection that is so absolutely perfect it hurts, my original dress has been on the outs. You know when you see an over-accessoried person and your heart aches for their fashion disaster? I would have been the bride version of that had I paired the necklace with that dress and the supremely sweet flowered strap.
Cue a spectacular dress hunt of epic proportions on a measly budget! I scoured Nordstrom Rack, shamelessly considered knock-off dresses, begged local designers to work with my budget (which didn't work, sore subject), and searched "long white casual dress" in Google more times than I care to remember.
And then I found one within my budget, courtesy of Shopbop's newly unveiled wedding boutique. Hallelujah! In a move totally unlike me, and without consulting my crew of stylists (a la my friends and mother), I bought it without hesitation. OK, there may have been a bit of hesitation, but it was quickly squashed by a pretty stellar return policy.
After sending out a few mass e-mails, I eagerly awaited the responses. OMG HOLLIE, this dress is SO YOU! I imagined them replying with extra exclamation points and an overuse of capitalization. And finally, when I thought I could wait no longer, my phone pinged with a text message. From mom.
"Sorry Hollie, I don't like it. Hopefully it looks better on you."
Well, not everyone has to love it as much as me, right? After all, I'm the one who will be wearing it. And obviously it would look better on me, because the model looks forlorn and her hair is incredibly drab. A happy, glowing bride makes all dresses better. right?
Another text message came in. Again from mom.
"The more I look at it the better it gets. I'll reserve judgement until I see it on you...I'm sure it will be great!"
Even though I knew she was saying it just for my sake, I felt a little bit better. And as quickly as that feeling came, e-mails from friends started rolling in.
"I wouldn't say fugly, really, it would be cute as a night gown..."
and then,
"I just think that dress looks wayyyy to casual in a bad way. It would be a cute beach cover up or grandma night gown?"
OK. So there we have it. Everyone (with the exception of maybe two people) thinks it's so hideous I should return it and forget the whole purchase even happened.
Have I piqued your interest? Are you dying to see the new dress? I should probably warn you that it may appall you, since that's the effect it's had on just about all who have seen it thus far.
The Odylyne Hummingbird dress, now sold out from Shopbop's wedding boutique.
The back looks just like the front, down to the ruffle and the plunging V. HEARTS!
There we have it. My perfect dress. Not so perfect in everyone else's eyes.
I'm not saying I'll keep it, but I'm not saying I'll return it, either. I'm just holding on to it until I can actually show someone and hear their distaste in person, which could potentially put me back at square one of the dress search.
Has this happened to anyone else? Did you flip everyone the bird and wear what you wanted to wear anyway? My friends and family are stylish folks, so a part of me wants to listen. But then again, I think I've got a measly bit o' style running through my veins, and this dress is seriously comfortable to boot.
Oh, crap. The wedding dress hunt may just be winning. I'll keep you posted.
Hollie
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