you wear the dress, not the other way around.

When I was a kid paging through the bridal section of the JC Penney catalog, I never thought my dress would be designed and made in Kenya one day.  Never in a million years.  Now that it’s all over, I am so glad my dress has a story.  But at the time, I’ll admit I wished I was going through the process in America instead.

What process am I describing? You know, the process where you make appointments at a variety of pretty little bridal shops.  You take your mom, sisters and best friends along with you while you try on dress after dress in front of an enormous 3-way mirror.  A sales lady fusses around you, adjusting here and there and telling you how gorgeous you look.   (Even if she’s lying through her teeth, she still makes you feel pretty, right?)  You keep trying on gowns of every sort.  Then all of a sudden, everybody in the room goes silent.  Somebody starts sniffling.  And then YOU sniffle.  You’ve found it – the one.  Right then and there, you are a bride.  You’ve found your dress and you’ve never felt more beautiful.  The sales lady starts excitedly running around the shop, pulling out veils and earrings and tiaras to accent this dress-of-amazingness that you just discovered.

Am I describing this accurately?

This did NOT happen to me.

I will admit there was a good amount of sniffling involved, and I did have my sweet friend Lauren with me at most of my fittings.  But that’s where the similarities end.

Let me just preface all this by saying I hate it every time I use the phrase, “Well in America…” as if we Americans have everything all figured out.  If I’m living in Kenya, I should stop complaining about actually being in Kenya, right?  Be that as it may, I am human and this is my story.

My first consultation with Monica, the designer, went really well.  I brought in a few photos of dresses I liked – some were silk, some were lace, but all of them had a similar style.  After weighing pros and cons of each, she made a sketch of my gown and took my measurements.  We decided on a lovely raw silk fabric.  I left a deposit, feeling great.

She warned me up front that the first couple fittings were meant to just get the general shape/fit of the dress down and I should not expect it to look like much.  So I tried not to get too flustered when they sewed the skirt on backwards or there was about 4 extra inches of cloth in the mid-section.  Each time, they pinned and tucked and adjusted and I left feeling okay.  (Sorry I didn’t take any photos along the way – in retrospect it would’ve been really fun to have!)

I started getting discouraged on the week that they asked me to come in with the jewelry and shoes I would be wearing.  The dress was still a bit lumpy and needed about two more fittings, so I was already feeling like a sack of potatoes.  But when I slipped on my little beaded sandals and put on my simple dangly earrings, I could have cried when I saw the look on their faces.

You’re going to wear THAT?”
“Where is your veil?”
“You do realize you’re a bride, right?”
“You’re going to look awfully plain…”

It’s hard to stand there all confident and dignified when a bunch of women are telling you that you’re going to be an ugly non-bride.

It wasn’t until later that I learned that your wedding day is a BIG DEAL in Kenyan culture.  People actually gather committees of friends to plan their wedding – who ante up a few hundred dollars each to go towards the festivities.  Everything from the dress to the cake are a really, really huge deal.  So when a girl wants a simple dress with simple accessories, it’s only natural they would think you’re crazy.

With that understanding, it makes sense that they would try so hard to convince me to make my dress a little fancier or wear heels instead of sandals.

The day that was supposed to be my last fitting, I looked like a mummy.  There was so much fabric  and ruching, I had absolutely no distinguishable shape.  Well, unless you consider a marshmallow a shape.  My friend Lauren could tell I was about to cry – I was so hopeful that I would finally feel like a bride.   They made just a couple tiny adjustments and told me to come back a couple days later to pick it up.  I left feeling awful.  I felt awful that I hated the dress, and I felt awful that I was so upset about a dress in the first place.

After several hours of turmoil, I finally worked up the courage to call the designer and explain my disappointment.  I emailed her photos of the original dress we’d discussed and stated firmly that she needed to take out at least 75% of the ruching.  This is NOT something that former Caroline would have done.  Former Caroline would have buttoned her lip and worn the dress she hated.  She would have felt like an ugly frump forever.

The day of my last fitting, the dress was perfect.  I couldn’t stop grinning.  I think I may have even twirled a little.  It didn’t even dampen my spirits when the designer sighed and said, “Well, just so long as you’re happy…”  She clearly thought I looked hideous, but I didn’t care.

The best lesson I learned is that it’s okay to stand your ground.  When you know what you like and the result is attainable, it’s totally appropriate to calmly and firmly state what you want.  I know that isn’t rocket science, but this has been a very new lesson for me.

And then the day came – the day that Chitra helped me into my dress while Anna and Kathy exclaimed over how well it suited me.  Kathy started sniffling first I think.  I put on the earrings that my Chinese friend Jane gave me before I left Beijing.  She made me promise I’d wear them for my wedding one day.  I slipped on the simple beaded sandals I bought in Kenya.

Dave’s sister Robbie told me more than once that on my wedding day, Dave should know he’s marrying me.  Not a dress, not a phenomenal hairstyle, not a photoshoot-worthy makeup job.  I should feel pretty, but I should also feel like me.

I’ll never, ever forget the look on Dave’s face the first time he saw me in that dress, with my simple little sandals and earrings.  He didn’t even look at the dress really.  He was only looking at me.

The people who knew me best knew that it was all perfect.

All photos of my dress compliments of the amazing Lockie Photography

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