At 20, I was the bride. I wanted my bridesmaids to have dresses that they'd wear again; nobody has that much use for floor length gowns. I loved the dresses I'd worn, and the women I'd worn them for, but I'm also fairly practical.
There seemed to be two prevailing ideas about bridesmaid dresses. One held that they should be at least marginally unattractive, so no one would outshine the bride. This seemed silly (and insecure) to me. I expected even the guests to "outshine" me. I have never felt beautiful or even eyecatching. The second notion was that you had to micromanage what your wedding party wore so that you could control the day, or at least the photos. Since this was supposed to be The Day You Have Always Dreamed Of, it was your absolute right to make sure that you approved of what others were wearing, especially those who would stand next to you and have their photos in your wedding album. This also seemed over the top to me. I couldn't imagine how it would "ruin my day" if someone wore something I didn't like. There wasn't actually a dress code and a bouncer.
I figured that having the wedding party in fancy, matching clothes was our way of saying, "These people are important to us!" Not that everyone else wasn't, but I couldn't afford to buy all of my friends and relatives new wedding outfits. Tradition dictated a wedding party of close friends, so I had one.
My husband actually had far more firm opinions on things like clothes and decorations than I did. He and I saw our bridesmaid dresses at the same time, as we were stepping off the escalator in a department store, and both of us simultaneously said, "THOSE!" They were pink with white pearlized buttons, faux wrap style, just below the knee length. We both loved them.
I mean, how cute are these dresses? And these ladies?
I gave no instruction on what to wear with them. A couple of them asked about hair or shoes or jewelry, and I told them, "Whatever you do is fine." Our colors were pink, white and ivory. The men wore black tuxedoes with pink boutonnieres. I did my own hair (my ordinary style, with a bit of curl and a fancy shell clip), and I expected everyone else to do the same. We didn't get ready together, or go to a salon, or anything of the kind; that's just not appealing to me.
We had six bridesmaids - an indicator of my inability to leave anyone out. Truth be told, I wanted a few more, but my husband only asked 4 men to be groomsmen, and only two said yes, so we were already lopsided.
One bridesmaid wore pale gray flats. One wore brown sandals. The rest wore white shoes, most of them heels.
So, yes, we looked lopsided, but otherwise adorable. And my nieces, the flower girls - could you just eat up their sweetness? Literally 15 years later, people were asking, "And how are those darling flower girls?" (Um, adults now, thanks. But they're still darlings.)
Anyway. I digress.
During my reception, a cousin came up to me and asked why one bridesmaid wore brown sandals.
My nerves were a little raw. We'd been engaged for a year; DON'T DO IT! Short engagements are the way to go! We had been bombarded with "You must do this," and, "You can't do that," and opinions out our ears until I wanted to scream. Someone phoned my husband at work, the night before the ceremony, to tell him to "call the whole thing off" because they and I disagreed about how to serve the condiments at the reception - and this someone was NOT our caterer or catering staff. True story. So, I was more caustic than I would otherwise be. I responded, truthfully, "She and her husband and their two year old twins drove for 16 hours, one way, to be here with us today. I don't care if she's barefoot." I mean, focus, people! What's important?
My poor cousin, who has never been anything but sweet and helpful, looked stricken. "Oh! I just - I wasn't sure if you gave them instructions. I didn't want you to be upset." I assured her that I was not upset with the shoes, or with her asking about them. The shoes were a non-issue.
I wish that I had photos of being a bridesmaid for my friend two years later. Back in the days of film, it was harder and more costly to share images.
We had off the shoulder, lavender, floor length gowns - very Southern belle. Luckily, they were also full and high waisted, because I was 6 months pregnant, and the matron of honor was 8 months pregnant.
When I walked down the aisle, there were a few whispers. Mostly, I think, people were trying to figure out if I was pregnant "or just that big." There was no question when the matron of honor walked down the aisle. She looked like she had swallowed a watermelon. There were audible gasps, and a loud buzz of conversation. They only quieted down when the pastor slightly raised his voice to ask everyone to stand for the bride.
Many people at the reception told the bride how "sweet," "brave," and "amazing" it was that she included us in the wedding party. The prevailing opinion seemed to be that we broke both of the cardinal wedding party rules - we pulled the focus away from the bride, and we did not look like a magazine spread. The bride was astonished and forthright: "It never occurred to me NOT to have them just because they were pregnant. These were the women I wanted there with me."
More than two decades later, when my daughter was planning her wedding, matching bridesmaid dresses were out of style. It was referred to as being "matchy matchy," and derided as an outdated and unflattering custom. "There's no way that one style of dress will look good on everyone," the experts said.
My daughter stood firm. Non-matching dresses were a chaotic mess. She would have matching ones. People tried to talk her out of it. They pointed out that her wedding party ranged from short and round to tall and thin. They told her that her photos would look dated. She didn't care. I applaud that; everyone else gets to plan their OWN wedding, not someone else's.
And the handmade dresses were gorgeous.
One of her bridesmaids asked her, during the wedding planning, "Can I wear black tights and shoes?" My niece responded, "If you want to. The other girls will be bare legged in white shoes, but do whatever you want." Talking with me about it, over a month later, my niece said, "I really didn't care. If she wanted to wear black tights, she should wear black tights." She paired them with cute black ankle boots and a chunky black necklace. I think that everyone looked amazing.
My niece also had a 16 year old flower girl, instead of a small cherub. She wanted to include her cousin, and to have someone old enough and responsible enough to pair with the 2 year old ring bearer, in case he was uncooperative.
Yes, everyone looked great. But most important, in my opinion, is that my niece put people over image. She wanted everyone to be as happy and comfortable as she was on her special day. You ask people to join you because you love them, not because they're window dressing.
In short, I'm pretty proud of having people in my life who value a little bit of individuality. We may all be in this together, but we are not all the same.
