Wedding Dresses: They Happen To The Best Of Us

This wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I never wanted a wedding dress. And now I’m pining over one that costs a flipping fortune.

I’ve mentioned my fear of the white dress before. It’s something I could never picture myself in. I can occasionally admire it on others but it’s just never been something I wanted to emulate.

So when I agreed to go dress shopping it was just for a day of fun with my friends. I planned to try on the most OTT, bonkers creations I could find. I wanted the most dramatic crystal, lace, diamanté meringues I could possibly find.

And it didn’t matter how expensive they were because I would never in a million years spend that sort of money on a dress I’ll wear once.

All I wanted was the free Champers on offer (there was none), and some fun with my MOH, B-Maid and hangers on.

But it didn’t quite work out that way.

We had some Prosecco at lunch, so that was OK, and the day was great fun, but it ended with my dramatic falling in love with a carefully tailored piece of cloth.

I tried on a bunch of tea-length dresses with cute flouncy petticoats, which were cute yes, but I could say no.

Then we went more traditional and opted for some huge meringues, opulent fishtails and tightly-corsetted contraptions that gave me a waist I'd never dared dream of. And sadly I have no pictures because there were no cameras allowed.

I looked more amazing (if rather bemused) than I ever thought I could, but as we left the shop I was still able to shake my head and say ‘no’. As fun and fabulous as the gowns were, they would look far too over the top in the relaxed garden setting of my reception.

Finally we headed boutique. I was tired by this time, a little bored of being trussed up in white and Champagne (colour, not drink) so I flitted around choosing my five dresses to try in the hour timeslot as quickly as possible.

It was the last one. The very last one I tried on. Even before she’d finished doing me up I was muttering ‘wow’ at the mirror.

I have never, and will never, look so good in anything as I did in that dress. It was floor length, silk, high-necked, with ruffle sleeves and the most exquisite sheer back you will ever see.

The girl gaggle agreed, it was stunning. I was ready to go back on all of my plans and whip the credit card out then and there.

Then I saw the price.

I’m sure many women, including several of my friends, have shelled out at least a couple of grand for their dresses and I don’t begrudge them it for a second. But that’s not me. I’m not a thousands-on-a-dress kinda gal. It would go against all my principals. And my bank balance.

But it’s so beautiful.

Traditional vs quirky

Setting aside the beauty of the dress for a minute, there’s a deeper problem to my decision. I, and I think my fiancé, always sort of thought I’d wear a green dress to our wedding.

I’m not sure where the idea originally came from but green’s my favourite colour, I’ve never liked white, and I’ve always dreamed of a 'Kiera Knightley in Atonement-style' green gown.

I even found one.

I bought it a few weeks before the fun dress shopping, for less than a quarter of the price of The White Dress, and it even elicited a ‘wow’ from the notoriously hard to impress mother-of-the-bride when I tried it on.

So I have two beautiful, striking dresses. I just have to pick one. It’s a good problem.

One I really, really can’t afford (but might buy anyway), and one I’ve already bought.

One is extremely classic and traditional, white like a real bride and high end. The other’s more quirky and fun, and fits in with my contrary need to do things differently ALL THE TIME (which I apparently inherited off the notoriously difficult to please mother-of-the-bride).

The mother-of-the-groom thinks I should just splash out on a proper dress to marry her son in.

There’s also the question of which will fit better with the wedding itself. We’re getting married at an old motor museum and heading to my parents’ house for a shindig in a marquee in the garden.

It’s going to be a bit ramshackle, great fun and full of home-made, DIY touches. Will a £2k silk dress really fit in with that ethos? What if I (which I inevitably with) spill red wine down it?

At the moment, and it changes hourly, I’m leaning towards going green. But will I regret not going for a proper wedding dress when I’m older and more conservative?

HELP.

[Should you ban social media from your wedding?]
[There is no such thing as an original wedding]