Sequel Mondays!

bridezilla in training

Bride Elect (Evolution of a Bridezilla)


Chapter Thirteen–Bridal Magazines.


Palucid and I are both avid readers.  In fact, a common date night for us is hanging out at our favourite bookstore.  Even though I am an avid reader, I rarely partake in the reading of magazines.  I consider this to be part of my genetically anomalous make-up.  Both my parents prefer technical reading materials like instructive literature and magazines.  Both my siblings seem to also prefer their reading material to be highly pragmatic and for the most part, non-recreational.   Up until our engagement, the only magazine Palucid ever saw me buy were “hair-style” magazines.  I refused to explain it to him—he just had to accept it as intrigue and move on.


Now that I was a bride-elect, I set aside the hairstyles magazines in favour of the bridal magazines.  At first Palucid implored me to resist—he even used “pretty please” once or twice.  After some negotiation, we agreed buying one magazine—as long as it was limited to one—it would harm no one and go along ways to appeasing whatever rogue bridezilla urges bubbling up from within.


Keenly aware of the limits I agreed to impose on myself, I resolved to make a conscientious choice.  I pondered my choice for several minutes.  During that time Palucid speed-read several different magazines on a wide variety “guy topics”, a small child learned to walk, and scientists around the world discovered three new species of paramecium.


Despite any outward appearances, I did have a goal in mind:  I needed a bridal magazine that featured a variety of veil and bridal hair ideas. After all, I had found the perfect goddess dress, now I needed accessories, and I needed to figure how just what a kind of veil a goddess would wear to her wedding.


At first, I thought about one of those flowers’n’ribbons halo thingys (picture Maid Marrion).  I tried picturing Maid Marrion, and all I saw was a little girl awaiting communion or confirmation.  It occurred to me that perhaps the whole flower halo thingy would push my goddess motif a little too far into “vestal virgin” territory.


I looked at the veils, they were all so….traditional.  I started to learn about lengths.  There were blushers, fingertip, birdcage, and cathedral.  In addition to lengths, there were also types.  I learned about cuts, centred gathered, handkerchief cut, oval cut, drop cut, mantilla cut,  cascading styles cut, and angel cut—just to name a few.  I wasn’t sure what exactly I was looking for, but I knew I’d know it when I saw it.


I knew I’d know it, and I did, one morning over coffee. When I saw it, I was flipping through the pages of my one and only magazine one last time before I looked at the second magazine (given to me by my maid of honour).  It wasn’t a veil, hat, or fascinator—and unless you count galaxies from long ago and far away, it wasn’t even all that princessy.


It was, I would find out later, called a “hooded wedding cape”.  It was a perfect complement to my flowy, diaphanous goddess dress.  Finding it in a magazine was one thing, finding it somewhere, in some shop, in Winnipeg was another feat entirely.


I showed my maid of honour the picture I found.  She was an accomplished sewer, and assured me that if I couldn’t find it anywhere, it would be a relatively simple sewing project for me.  She was right, if I had to, I probably could sew one, but I would have to start shopping for fabric.  My maid of honour’s eyes lit up—she loved shopping for fabric—I need only call her.  I remembered then, that one of her most favourite fabric shops also happened to be my grandma’s sewing nirvana when she was alive.


Mitchell’s Fabrics is a bit of an institution amongst the stitch and bitchers in the Winnipeg, and surrounding areas.  It is several thousand square feet of fabric, notions, and fabric remnants.  My grandma loved the basement of that store.  The basement was filled with all kinds of remnants for ridiculous prices.  There were beautiful weaves of cotton, knits, and jerseys.  There were also many splendorous notions, and patterns.  The thought of visiting that shop—regardless of whether or not I purchased anything, would be a kind of honouring my grandma.


Next on the goddess-bride-shopping list was “head gear”.  I needed to decide what kind of hair-jewellery—if any—I might use on the big day.  I could the indecisive, and dithering girl who went gown shopping starting to eek its way back into my consciousness.  There were so many choices, so many options—what to wear, where to start I…..My maid of honour wisely pointed out that I could quite easily scout out the very many discount bling shops throughout the city and select a variety of inexpensive hairbands to try out, and whatever didn’t work would gladly be expropriated by my nieces, sister-in-law, and possibly even sister. I noticed she wasn’t volunteering to take me shopping or anything, but I hardly noticed since she kind of had me at the word “shopping”.



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