Like a phoenix from the ashes!

Ok, I admit. I suck at blogging regularly. It's not been from a lack of crazy brides, I assure you. But you don't want to hear about my slacker-ness. You came for crazies, and that's what you shall get!

Well, apparently I can't think of stories right now, so how about I just mock ugly dresses?

As requested, today I make fun of Tornai dresses.




How many muppets had to die to make this dress? Even if the answer is none, it's still too many. Also, when wearing a hideous gown the color of a teddy ruckspin, be sure to pair it with your pink fox scarf. It's to die for.



No. Just no.



Again with the sheer corset top. Oh, but in case you want to be extra skanky, ride that skirt so low you would make the teen boys in my neighborhood question the choice.



I'm ready for my close-up Mr. DemAAHHHHHH!!! Why did she defile my grandma's doily collection like that?



Atreyu. Don't say her name. Hop on your giant flying dog and save yourself before your inability to look away from the side cut-outs allows her to eat your brains.

Peeve of the week

So I think Friday will be my pet peeve of the week post. After a full week of annoying brides calling me at all hours (and I do mean all hours) I have plenty of pent up rage.

This week's peeve:

Super unique bride...just like everybody else.

Yes, I hear it everyday, "I want my dress to look different, you know?" or "I just don't want to look like the typical bride."
Well, you are wearing an ivory strapless gown from a national designer and most people don't catch the subtle nuances of one cream puff over another. You want to look different? How about a crimson dress of pleated organza that looks like something molded onto your body, in other words "art", or how about a restored vintage dress from the 20's that feels more like a museum piece, or hell even a tea length skirt with some seamed-back hose and fabulous shoes? No? You feel more like a bride in your mermaid, strapless, taffeta white gown with a train? Well then you're going to look like a "typical" bride.

Here's a little secret for you. Lean in close so the internets can't all hear. Do you know why wedding dress styles change around every 6 years or so (ballgown for a while, then lace for a while, then pleated, and so on)? Because something becomes popular, then in an effort to look "different" a bride chooses a silhouette that is almost the opposite. Other brides see this and decide it's different, so they do the same thing. After 2 seasons of this the "new" style is now the "popular" style and then the "boring" style. Lather, rinse, repeat. Everyone wants to stand out, but no one has the guts to do something daring, so you all look the same. Deal with it.

The root of all evil

The other day I had an experience that just confirms the attitude of so many people about brides and how it is their magical special day.

While fitting a bride, a couple had brought in their son for a tux. Normally, I find young boys adorable in tuxes. This little demon may have changed a few things. See, I try to tamp down on my rage and create a peaceful, pleasant experience for my brides. I've been there and I understand that it can be a stressful situation (key term:can). It is a less attainable goal when your little monster is literally running around the shop, screaming bloody murder in the dressing room (I think my tympanic membrane has ruptured), and treating the dressing room curtains like they are your own personal matador.

Typically, we have idiots bring in their kids and let them run around several times a week. I hate it, but they all start to blur together in a sea of rage. This one, however stuck for a few reasons.

1) The child in question was about 5 or so. Old enough to be on good behavior for 20 minutes. I'm not expecting dinner with the queen, but could you at least not try to pole vault over my bride's skirt?

2) The child had a name. This name embodies all the reasons why this child is messed up. STFU Parents can back me up on the connection between bad name and bad behavior. There is a direct correlation. His name? Andrews. Yes. Plural. Probably spelled with a y in there somewhere.

3) While my bride was changing, Andrews's (?) mom grabbed his arm and told him he was not allowed to run into that dressing room (we have 4) because "there's a princess in there!" She even tried to sound all mystical about it. Really? Really?!? You can't just stop him from being an unholy terror for a few minutes, but have to use fantasy novel fodder to keep him from trashing only one dressing room?

Good hell.

Wow. Just wow.

Since it's been a while, I thought I would share one of my favorite stories. I should go ahead and say right now that this did not happen to me, nor in any of the shops I have worked in/with. It happened to a friend I worked with who not only made me do a full spit take when I heard it, she also gave me permission to post it*. Yay!

Quite often in this industry we are confronted with brides who are rather sheltered. Much as I don't want to have to explain the facts of life to a girl who should have known them for years, it does come up. At this point I am rarely surprised by the deer-in-the-headlights look on a fresh young face when I ask if they will be going on any oral contraceptives. The fact is, I kind of need to know that since some people react strongly to the hormones. It does me no good to fit a dress to you and then have you call me a week or two later complaining about the bust feeling too tight. Even so, this shocked me.

My friend was working as a consultant in a higher end shop and had a girl and her mom come in looking at dresses. She was getting married in a couple months and tried on a few things, but nothing was really doing it for her. Friend grabbed a dress that she thought the bride would like and waited while she put it on. After a few minutes the bride came out and it wasn't sitting at all right. The problem was that the bride, whose chest was a bit larger, hadn't properly placed the girls into the dress (this is common knowledge, right? You have to kind of lift and set in place...you know about this, right?)and the result was an unfortunate quad-boob effect. Friend tried to delecately tell her that she needed to adjust herself and the dress would look fine. Here is the transcript:

Friend- So if you just pull the top down and kindof set the chest in place it will look right.
Bride-*Vacant stare*
Friend- Yeah...just go ahead and lift yourself into the dress.
Bride-*blink* huh?
Friend- *Getting a bit frustrated* Ok, you are going to have to lift and set your breasts into the cups of the dress for it to sit properly on you, so go ahead and reach in and do it. You can go back into the dressing room and do it if you are more comfortable.
Bride- Um, that's M@STERBATION!!
Bride's Mom- *nodding*
Friend- *Head explodes from the stupid*

Yup, she actually thought that the act of touching her own breasts in a purely functional way was self-love, but she decided to make the statement at full volume in a very busy shop. Way to keep it klassy!

I have just a few questions for her like how do you shower or put on a bra or what if, heaven forbid, you get the dreaded itchy boob? Also, you do realize that you are going to be getting married in a month and your husband will be expecting to be granted access, right? Should my friend have refferred to them as your dirty pillows? Ah, love. Stupid, silly, over-sheltered, basic biology shunning, Jesus horse riding, Darwin side-stepping, shameful love.


*I love stories. Love lovey love. If you have crazy stories, email them to me and I will give you mad props and a pony**.

**Pony not available in all areas.

A whole new me...complete with stories!

Ok, I have no idea if anyone even checks in on this blog anymore, but for those who have been waiting around for more crazy, know that I (eventually) give the people what they want. I had to take a bit of a break due to some health issues, but I'm doing well now and am ready to share some craziness.

When last we left, super crappy bride was wanting a bunch of stuff changed on her dress. Eventually, she was finally happy and became her husband's problem. Or so I thought. About a week ago I got a call from her and about screamed when her name showed up on my phone. Instead, I politely answered the phone and tamped down on the rage while she told me that the dress needed some touching up and steaming since the dry cleaner put it in a washing machine. I think it bears repeating. The dry cleaner put a handmade SILK gown in a washing machine. When I took a look at it I was torn between being super pissed that this white monster that commendeered a better part of 2 months of my life was irreparably damaged in about half an hour and wanting to grab a black sharpie and tag the stupid thing. Since I suck at being assertive in person, I agreed to steam it and fix a few things, though I did tell her that I would be charging her and that it would never be how it once was.

On a more odd note, I had a bridesmaid who started out normal, and went to a whole weird place. She emailed me a few times and we set up a time to meet. The day before, her husband called to confirm the time and I thought nothing of it. That fitting, he came with her and had to give his stamp of approval on everything. It was a bit strange, but I figured he was just helping her out. Nope. Every phone call received about the dress was made by him. Every fitting, he had to be present and had to tell her what he thought. Any calls about changes to the dress were made by him with her kind of talking in the background. It was all very strange. In person, she was personable, friendly, and even outgoing. So why, may one ask, is she not allowed to make a phone call?* It just gave off a very Edward from the books that shall not be named stalkerey-overprotective-he-just-kidnaps-me-because-he-loves-me sort of vibe.**

Anyway, consider me back with a fully charged snark battery. I feel the need to bash on some dresses.

*I don't actually know if she is "allowed" to make a phone call. I suspect that she is. But I haven't witnessed it.

**Do not get me started on this series. I get very stabby and can rant for hours. Literally.

Maybe a desk job is in order

I know I've been gone for a bit. Unfortunately, I have been dealing with the most awful bride of my entire career. It has gone past the point of being ridiculous or funny. She commissioned a custom dress with a time-line of only 2 1/2 months. For those who don't know, ordering a dress from a shop typically takes 4-6 months, and custom can take the same or longer. I agreed to do it because I am an idiot.
Initially, we were on the same page and things were going well. Then she started bring a camera to fittings and asking me to take pictures. Sure, no problem. She'd leave the fitting happy and then I would get an email the next day saying that she was unhappy with the pictures. Well, I am no photographer and my studio is made for sewing, not for taking nice pictures. Oh, and she's not a size 2, 5'11" model that's been photo-shopped.
I won't get into details about all the changes that have been made or how one week the skirt is too puffy and the next it's not puffy enough or how it's too long and I warn her that taking off more will make it too short but she insists and the next week she thinks it's too short. I won't even tell you the story of how she up and decided that it wasn't quite dark enough and could I just dye it darker (hell no!). I can't even laugh about it anymore. It makes me stabby and upset and I just want it to be done.
Yesterday was supposed to be the pickup fitting. Operative word: supposed. She was happy and smiling and wanted only a couple tweaks done to it, which I agreed to. I took a couple photos, explained why a certain thing was happening to the skirt in it, and sent her on her way finally happy that she had been reasonable.
This morning I woke up to an email complaining that the dress looked different in each photo and she wants to try it on with a crinoline (puffy slip, basically) and that the dress looks "awful" in the photos. Yes, she said awful.
My response was to tell her I don't just have crinolines lying around so she'd have to find her own and that it would make the skirt shorter and she'd just have to deal with that since I am not changing the length. I said some other stuff too, but I really don't even want to deal with it anymore.
People have asked me if I watch Say Yes to the Dress or Bridezillas. I don't. I live those shows and don't get paid to watch them. They hit too close to home and I don't find them entertaining or funny. It sends me into flashbacks of crap brides I've dealt with and some memories and people are better forgotten. It's funny from the outside, but there are times when being the one on the receiving end of that kind of crazy is too much to handle. I have thick skin; you have to in this industry. I can laugh off most situations (hence the blog) and join in with everyone in wondering how I can do this for a living, but know that it's not always so bad. Occasionally, though, there comes a bride that still finds a soft spot.

Gone for a bit!

I'm going to be off camping this week, but once I get back, oh the stories I have for you!