Photo by Jenny Tuohy, J2EPHOTOGRAPHICS.COM 

The dress quest

And you thought finding the man was
the hard part.

By Jennifer Pattison

If saying “yes” to that chap down on one knee is the single biggest decision in a girl’s life, then choosing The Dress comes in as a photo finish second. Quite indecently soon after that word left my own mouth I began to envision my perfect dress. Four months and a million visions later, I can empathize with Hans Christian Anderson’s Emperor. Nudity would be the easier option.

Embarking on the Dress Quest, I discovered, is incredibly similar to joining a cult. Beneath the layers of tulle exists an alternate reality where the words guipure, charmeuse and shantung trip off the tongues of salespeople known as bridal consultants, a breed who could take on a used car salesman with one perfectly manicured hand tied behind their back. These creatures will brainwash you into believing that a balloon versus Juliet neckline is a life or death decision. To make it through this world with your sanity—and life savings—still intact, a bride needs to call on the strength of the Amazons, or at least Martha Stewart.

For the benefit of all Idaho brides, and other lucky girls who don’t live under a cloud of pollution, here is a survival guide to running the dress gauntlet.

A bride needs a few essential tools before beginning her Dress Quest: knowledge, a strapless bra and a budget.

The world of weddings is a bizarre place where the value of money is skewed (you’ll find yourself barely batting an eyelid at paying more for a net curtain to put on your head than you did for your first car). As a rule of thumb, everything is 30 percent more expensive than in the real world. The only way to make it through is to set a firm budget for your whole ensemble—dress, veil, shoes, lingerie and the all-important alterations.

Once armed, locating The One should be slightly easier. First off, do consider Idaho. Although I failed to do so, I do know that a wonderful wedding gown can be found in this great state. The most glamorous gowns in Southern Idaho are actually hanging at Paula’s of Sun Valley. Ask any local bride where they got their dress and the answer will likely be, “I flew to (fill in name of large city across nearby border)” or “Paula’s.”

Paula Proctor has carried wedding dresses in her Trail Creek Village boutique for over 10 years. In that time it has become the must-do stop on the Idaho bride Dress Quest. “A pretty high percent of the local brides get their dresses from here,” explained Paula.

However, Paula’s brides are firmly in the 21st century, “I think the Idaho bride wants to show off their pretty figures that they work hard on, they’re definitely the more sporty bride, less frou-frou.” This is where Paula and I sadly parted ways; I’m not from Idaho, I’m definitely not sporty and I’m all about frou-frou.

As opposed to dreaming of being a bride from the age of 7, I dreamed of being a princess and it wasn’t her Prince Charming that I wanted, it was her dress. I spent the better part of my childhood firmly encased in a frou-frou laden yellow dress, frequently putting a hula-hoop under my skirt to make it fuller. Yes, I’ll freely admit it, I long for a meringue.

For once, current fashion agrees with me. According to the Los Angeles Times’ 2005 wedding supplement, “If the dress of Donald Trump's bride is any indication, the age of big beautiful gowns is triumphantly in full swing.” Melania Knauss’s Christian Dior gown was created with 300 feet of satin and boasts a 13-foot train. The full skirt, ruched and pleated, weighs 50 pounds and cost $100,000.

Another recent celebrity bride to go big was Christine Baumgartner, who married actor Kevin Costner in a glorious Rocky Mountain wedding. This Wild West bride inspired my personal Dress Quest. The search for a bargain basement replica of her Monique Lhuillier designed, ornate, princess ball gown, adorned with handcrafted silk flowers, took me over two continents, across three states, through the doors of 16 stores and into over 100 dresses. I waded through duchess satin, silk shantung and lace, I flirted—very briefly—with tulle and organza and hiked my bosoms into sweetheart, bateau, portrait and strapless necklines. My curves wiggled into sheath, a-line, ball gown and mermaid skirts, and I gasped for breath in many a gravity-defying corset.

Shopping for a wedding dress is a singular retail experience—unless the words “haute couture” are synonymous with your summer wardrobe—and the Bridal Salon is truly a breed apart.

Modeled on the Parisian couture houses, appointments must be made and pawing through racks of the whiter than white creations is not an option. One store I ventured into actually had their dresses hidden behind a curtain. After jotting down all your most intimate details, the bridal consultant ushers you into a fitting room and, if you’re lucky, plies your mother with wine whilst simultaneously manhandling you into a selection of gowns that, in her opinion, suit you (tip: don’t wear a thong).

Here is where it is useful to have blown the better part of your dress budget on outrageously expensive wedding magazines. Tear out dresses that catch your eye and bring them to the consultation, it will facilitate in the display of four or five gowns that you actually like rather than finding yourself trapped in an endless succession of tulle catastrophes.

Unless thusly prepared you may also suffer from “white blindness.” Akin to snow blindness, this common syndrome occurs after viewing 40 plus gowns in diamond white, soft white, ivory, eggshell, ecru and every other shade of white imaginable.

Be prepared, but don’t be prejudiced, the chances are that taffeta monstrosity you spied as you walked in is a vision in romance once it’s brought to life by your own special beauty. Know your Empire line from your Basque, your brocade from your organza and your bateau from the Sabrina. But most importantly know your designers. The likes of Monique Lhuillier, Reem Acra and Maggie Sottero—and maybe even David—will become your new best friends. This is either because you can afford the designs of the former or because the latter has so successfully ripped them off that you’ll get your dream dress for a fraction of the designer price.

You see, the supercilious bridal salon is not your only recourse. A breed known as David’s Bridal, and its ilk, has sprung up in recent years to corner 20 percent of the U.S. bridal market. These giant, mass-produced stores have revolutionized the Dress Quest.

The norm in couture salons is to stock a sample of each gown in a size 8, David’s Bridal has dresses from size 2 to 26. The dresses are also less expensive, embellished as they are by machine made embroidery and lace as opposed to the hand stitching and Swavorski crystal you’ll find on couture gowns. So, why spend thousands on a dress from a bridal salon when you could get one for hundreds, or less, from David?

It is completely a personal choice of course. For some brides, a dress you will wear once in your life doesn’t need to be hand stitched or made from luxurious material, plastic beads, sequins and polyester suit them just fine. For others their wedding day is a day to truly indulge themselves, to be a princess. When the average wedding costs $25,000 why shouldn’t your dress carve a decent dent into that figure? After all, every element of a wedding is a glorious extravagance. When else do you spend $400 on a bunch of flowers?

There are some options to be found in-between the $99 David’s Bridal and the $6000 designer dress. If your fore-thoughtful mother or grandmother preserved their exquisite lace dress from the 50s you can most likely have it altered. Preserved is the operative word here. My mother’s heirloom I found stuffed in a suitcase in the attic with rust stains accentuating the now yellow fabric. Along this line, it may be easier to justify the expense of a dress if you envision your daughter or granddaughter wearing it in the coming years. The bolder, more cost-efficient bride might consider buying a second hand dress, or indeed selling their budget-breaking dress post-wedding.

The options are many, but if time and expense limits you, as it did me, take some advice from our local pros: “When you see something that goes boom, make your decision and go,” says Paula.

“Yes, you can travel the world and spend a fortune. But you’ll go crazy!” Exactly.

“There are no rules really, just to be true to yourself,” advises Michele Minailo-Jefferson, a couture seamstress who creates on average two couture bridal gowns a year for local brides. “I think it would be hard to grow up in this town and see the huge weddings that go on here and try to keep up with the Jones’. Just be true to yourself and what you and your fiancé want.”

I still haven’t found my dress. My problem? I have been holding out for what is referred to in the bridal world as the “oh mommy moment.” That moment when you step out of the dressing room and either you, your mother or the salesgirl bursts into tears.

The closest I came was when I slipped into a divine creation by Lebanese-born Reem Acra. A drop-waisted ivory, duchess satin ball gown with a train that could sweep Grand Central Station, it was truly exquisite. So was the price tag, $5,460. Add in all the extras and I was staring at a $7,000 bill. The realization that $7,000 is halfway to a new truck put the kibosh on that.

The decision to resign myself to never finding The Affordable One has lifted a weight from my shoulders. A relief for all concerned. For my guests, The One would have meant a lavish spread of Big Macs at the reception. For my future wedded bliss The One may have spelled catastrophe; every time my fiancé looked at me in my dream gown he would see his much longed for Toyota Tundra elegantly hugging the curves of his new wife.

And for me? The idea of walking around incased in $7,000 finally woke me up. Imagine the horror if I dropped special sauce down the front. Bare skin is much easier to clean.  •