By Barbara Falconer Newhall
My son is getting married. I’ll need a dress. A dress that makes me look terrific.
I like pants. I wear them everywhere. Pull them on and go. But for this occasion I’ll need a real dress. A gown. A bona fide, full-length, mother-of-the-groom gown, with lace, maybe. Or sequins. Or pearls. Or all of the above.
Right now I own exactly two dresses. The black linen I bought for my mother’s memorial service in 2011. And the cerise silk I bought for my in-laws’ 50th wedding anniversary back in 1983. It was a post-partum, nursing mom affair, so it still fits. Sort of.
For a while, there was a third dress in my closet, a ruffly chiffon thing that I’d bought for Peter’s high school graduation. But that dress went the way of everything else in the closet that does not conceal wobbly upper arms.
And so . . . it’s time to add another dress to my repertoire, something elegant and pretty for Peter’s wedding, coming up in May.
I got started on the project several weeks ago. I put on my best bra and a pair of knee-high nylon stockings and headed off to downtown San Francisco,
(I don’t own any full-fledged pantyhose. The last time I wore them – at my mother’s memorial service – I learned the hard way that elastic doesn’t last the 12 years between your son’s high school graduation and your mother’s funeral.
(As I headed up the steps of the church to the service, the waistband on my aging pantyhose gave way and fell down around my knees. I made a quick trip to the ladies’ room, threw the pantyhose in the trash, and presented myself bare legged at my mother’s funeral. That was it for me and pantyhose.)
Since that first gown-shopping trip to downtown San Francisco, I’ve visited several department stores – Macy’s, Nordstrom, Bloomingdale’s, Saks, Nieman Marcus. I’ve driven to the suburbs to check out the bridal salons. I’ve shopped on-line.
I’ve tried on A-line dresses. Mermaid dresses. Beaded, ruched, pleated, embellished, crocheted and scalloped dresses. Dresses made of tulle, charmeuse, tafetta and jersey.
I’ve struggled into and out of dozens of these confections. Hooks have caught on lace. Glitter has fallen to the floor. Zippers have jammed.
What can I say? I looked dreadful in almost all them. Frumpy. Matronly. Old.
I’d known before I started out that my upper arms would be a challenge. I’d have to cover them with sleeves. I also knew there would be some belly fat involved; Spanx might be called for.
But standing in bra and panties in front of all those brightly lit, three-way department store mirrors, I couldn’t help noticing that a couple other body parts had bit the dust since I last looked.
There was my upper back for one thing. Years and years at the steering wheel and keyboard had given me a writer’s slump. (Rhymes with dowager’s hump.)
And what was once a pair of scrawny, size A breastlets that barely filled the padded bras I wore in high school was now, to put it kindly, a generous bustline.
Upper arms, upper back, bust, tummy. I tried on dress after dress, hoping against hope to find one that met all my figure challenges without making me look like somebody’s grandmother.
Which I’m not. Yet.
Over the weeks, I paid for and took home a total of eight – count ’em eight – mother-of-the-groom dresses on the theory that they might look better in the soft light of my own bedroom mirror. They didn’t. I took them back to the store.
At $200 or so each, eight gowns make for a hefty paper trail on one’s credit card.
Was I overshopping?
No.
It’s the bride’s day, yes. All eyes will be on her, including my son’s.
But it’s also my day. This is my son and he’s getting married. I want him to be as proud of me as I am of him right now. I want a dress that wraps me and my magnanimous curves into one gorgeous package. I want to look smashing.
Epilogue: One of the eight dresses turned out to be a keeper. It’s purple and elegant and shapely and maybe even smashing, all without the help of Spanx. I look so good in it, in fact, that
I’m going to buy myself another dress one of these days. Something short to show off my legs, which if all those in-your-face fitting room mirrors are to be believed, still look terrific.
All they’ll need is a fresh pair of pantyhose.
If you enjoyed this post you might like “Mad Men Meets the ’60s Girdle — But Will She Get It Off in Time?” You can share it with friends by clicking on the Facebook, Twitter or email icon below.
Read about the rest of my mother-of-the-groom outfit at “Mother of the Groom Diaries: Am I Too Old for Splashy Earrings?” and “My Killer Shoes — Brought Down to Size by 41/2-inch Heels.”
Thanks for a story that is reflective of women our age and not the models they have wearing Mother of the Bride/Groom dresses…tall,slender and in their 30’s!
An ability to look at the world realistically with the grace to laugh at ourselves is key to aging.
Thank you for sharing!
I’m still trying to feel that grace. Working on it. Thanks for the encouragement!
I stumbled upon your post when I was searching Google for an “aunt of the bride dress” for my niece’s wedding this autumn. It was entertaining and humorous and highlighted perfectly that which we “mature” women endure when shopping for a special occasion. Your final selection was fabulous on you, and I am sure it was a smash hit!
Thanks for a great read and a shopping bag full of chuckles!
Susan, Stay tuned for my “Aunt of the Bride” piece. Coming soon, I hope.
I was the mother-of-the bride last week-end. It was a great wedding except for that “one guy” who pushed the paid photographer out of the way to get his shot—not once, not twice, but over and over again. Regardless, the bride was beautiful, the groom was handsome, and the mother-of-the bride wore purple (and, of course, spanx). .
Yea for purple and Spanx!
I’ve never been to your blog before but I have to say, your final choice is fabulous. It’s modern, chic, slimming, elegant, tasteful, sexy, and makes you look 15 years younger, literally, than the other photos you posted. I’m 55 and feel your pain and share your delight in finding a well-fitting, suitable, gorgeous dress! Bravo!
Thank you, Diana. Can’t wait to wear it!
Barbara, it’s amazing what the simple, well made dress did for your figure. The other 7 were laughable. Are you sure you didn’t do that shopping over several months while fiercely dieting and toning up at the gym? You will look terrific at the wedding. Too bad no one will be looking at you. Have a good time anyway. I’m with you on the pants “uniform.”
I took what I thought was a long time to find this dress — several weeks and many trips to the mall and the city. It was fun.
Great choice! What kind of necklace will you wear with it? Pearls? Diamonds?
Good question, Marilyn. No necklace, but fancy, dangling earrings yet to be discovered. Stay tuned.
Thanks for this honest and funny post about finding the perfect dress! I love the story of the pantyhose. I forwarded this to my sister who will be the mother-of-the-bride this summer. I read this with my mom, as I am visiting her now. We both got quite a chuckle!
Thanks for passing the story on to your sister. I hope my story helps her. Interesting that the mother-of-the-bride/groom dresses I saw — whether at department stores like Macy’s and Nordstrom or online or at bridal salons — all seemed to range around $200. Even Saks and Nieman Marcus had dresses in that range. I’d expected to have to pay a lot more.
SUPER fun blog post, barbara! Thanks for it, and all the photos. Your final choice of dress is STUNNINGLY GORGEOUS, and I am jealous that I didn’t find it last May when Nicholas got married. I tried on everything David”s bridal and Macy’s had to offer… and actually ended up finding my dress at (gasp) ROSS when I wasn’t even looking! You can check out the wedding pics on facebook and see the dress in all its glory! Thanks for a great read.
Thanks, Kathryn. I’ll go look at your dress. Fun.
Wow! You look great and I’m jealous. I sure don’t look that good in my dress, and I just learned I have FAT armpits. sigh.
Liz
I’m pretty sure we’re both going to look terrific. Cuz we’re so happy, if nothing else.
Thanks for your optimism. We do have so much to feel happy about, all of which trumps my fat armpits.
OMG – I’m still wiping the tears! You are terrific and only wish you had written this in 2010 when I went through the same agony for my daughter’s wedding. Ended up with something similar to “Matronly” and to this day wished I had persevered and found what your final choice was! (Also I was not too fond of their choice for photographer who managed to catch me – for posterity- in every pose that made sure the dress lived up to it’s name!) You definitely made the best choice (just make sure you pull the photographer aside and get some “posed” pix – trust me, you’ll be a happy camper a year from now!) Bless you for sharing! Your ‘ol sorority sis – Anne
Anne, What a great tip. I’ll see if I can get some shots of me (and Jon) looking good.
You made a great choice, Barb! Very flattering! Does the couple have a preference about color? That was a problem at at least one of our boys’ weddings.
Dark colors were suggested. Besides, so many of the light colors — dusty rose, beige, mauve, taupe — looked too bridey.
Great choice Barbara! Enjoy the wedding.
Treacy
Thanks, Treacy!
Very funny article. I love the dress you ended up with. My GRANDSON is getting married in June and I NEVER wear anything but pants. I’m still not sure what I’m going to wear!!!!!!! Happy wedding.
xx
Jan, Have you taken a look at your legs lately? Maybe you’d like to show them off. Now that I’ve seen mine (below the knees, that is) in all those mirrors, I think I might buy a dress or two in the future. But, of course, pants are soooo easy.