I Feel Pretty, Oh So Pretty!!!

I have written several times on this blog about the very un-fun experiences I have had trying to find a wedding dress. Remember, this is a hostile blog! I didn't write about the fun stuff I did while looking, like trying on some creations I had no intention of ever wearing just so I could see what it felt like to be a gigantic walking cupcake. Now THAT was fun!

Anyway, I wrote about it because everyone makes a huge deal about the girl's dress when people get married. People get so worked up; its if the choice of the bride's dress will have a direct impact on the success of failure of the marriage. You know. There's that moment when the bride gets to the top of the aisle and everyone gets up and turns and looks, and then immediately starts judging the choice of her dress. Based on what I have seen it appears that the general thought is that size and ostentatiousness increase the chances of marital success, while simplicity will result in an annulment within 16 hours.

But no one really talks about the groom and his outfit. Probably because most guys seem to just go to the tux shop, rent some standard black thing worn by hundreds before him, and then return it with little thought other than the vain hope the rental place won't notice the vomit stains on the cuffs. Of course, there are exceptions. My friend Marc actually bought the coolest non-traditional tuxedo for his wedding. He has subsequently worn it on more than one special occasion. Pulling that outfit from the closet puts everyone on notice that wherever he is, it is a VERY IMPORTANT event worthy of a very important outfit (all while quietly saying, "And I look damn good!"). And he does he looks stunning. (I am hoping he will think our wedding is worthy of this fabulous creation, but he is giving indicia that it is not. Really? Well, hopefully he'll get an invite!)

Anyway, the other week we went to go and buy Grant's outfit. Yes, together. The man has never owned a suit in his life. You think I am going to let him go to a clothing store on his own and pick out what he is going to wear in our wedding? Puh-leaze! Armed with a debit card, my father's inherited sense of style and some suggestions from friends, we waded into the downtown morass of menswear.

First we went into Nordstroms. After being ignored for 10 minutes and looking at some of the prices we decided to leave. We were going to see if Mario's the local fancy man's shop was having a sale. One look at the windows told us they were not, so we went on to the ever trusty Men's Warehouse. Fortunately, they were having a sale, so inside we went.

I'd done this before, having had the pleasure of helping my friend Nic pick out his wedding suit. I was ready for the impeccably attired salesmen that swarmed over us the moment we walked in the door. Of course, they were all dressed as if they were gong to a mafia funeral, wearing pinstriped suits in a variety of colors, complete with with cuff links, silk ties and handkerchiefs, and shoes shined to within an inch of their lives. When they heard the word "wedding" they attempted to steer us towards a tuxedo. We quickly nixed that idea. As much as I would like to think that we live the type of life that would require Grant to don a tuxedo on a regular basis, we don't (yet). He needed a suit, so a suit it was going to be. We elected to have the nice young woman help us instead of the king-pin wanna-bes, and she was great.

I won't bore you with the details of the various exercises we went through to get him suited up, because that's not the point. The point is to share with you a very sweet moment that I experienced.

Like I said, Grant has never owned a suit. He went through this process with slightly gritted teeth, both because of his distaste for formal clothing and what is the most extreme loathing for shopping I have seen in any human being. After demonstrating tremendous patience as I suggested different shirts, ties, etc., we settled on something he felt comfortable with. He was ready to pay and walk out the door (not realizing he had to get it tailored to fit his manly physique). I suggested he put the whole thing on,because I am a visual person (meaning I am an idiot and I can't visualize what things look like unless they are actually on). He gritted his teeth some more, but recognizing that this was important, he went back and got dressed.

Grant came out from the dressing room, rolled his eyes, and followed the salesperson's directions to the three way mirror with the raised dais on which he could stand and view himself in all his splendid glory. He got up and looked at the mirror in front of him. Then he looked at the mirror on his left. Then his right. Then he began twisting this way and that. I saw this look come over his face that I had never seen before. (I think it's the look that was supposed to have come over my face when I tried my dress on, but it didn't because by that time I just wanted to get the hell out.)

Grant, I could tell, felt pretty. Ok, maybe pretty handsome, but pretty is the operative word. After another couple of minutes of twisting and some adjustments from the tailor, all he could say was, "Wow. I guess I've never really seen myself in a suit before!"

It was adorable to watch my big, rugby playing, wood chopping, outdoor loving hunk of a fellow be reduced to the state of a 16 year old girl seeing herself in her first prom dress. All I could think was "Awwwwwwwwww!" That, and I was going to be very happy to walk down the aisle and see him in that KICK ASS suit! It was definitely a bonding event that brought us closer, because at last he could understand my love of formal gowns (which I buy with the same frequency that some other people buy gum). Perhaps, I thought, weddings aren't so bad. As long as you work on them together.

So for now, it's Hostility 9, Weddings 1.