Yesterday we rented a zip car to pick up my finished wedding dress from the tailor’s in the Queen Anne neighborhood of Seattle. We left the tailor’s empty handed.
On the way to the shop, I told Grant “I’m nervous, I bet you something’s going to be wrong with the dress.” He told me not to worry. I was nervous because I knew this dress was a hard one to fix. I was especially on edge since receiving a call from the tailor two weeks ago telling me that it would cost another $70 plus tax to properly tailor the slip – cut the armpits, redo the straps, and pull in the back, cut and re-stitch the zipper. I told her (trying hard not to have that nervous shaky stressed out voice) that had she told me a month ago that it would cost the initial amount she quoted me plus $70 plus more costs, then I would have returned the dress to the consignment shop where I purchased it from and moved on to another dress. I told her we couldn’t afford it. She said, “as a tailor, I want it to be perfect.” I told her it doesn’t need to be perfect. She said “okay, we’ll just dart the back as best as we can, but it’s going to look unfinished.” I said I can live with that. Of course, when I told my mom about this, she wasn’t thrilled and said, “how can you have an unfinished looking dress. That’s gonna be funny.” And of course, it left me feeling a bit uneasy as well.
When we got to the tailor’s yesterday, I tried on the dress and in amazement I saw that it finally fit me. How she was able to pull the dress in 8 sizes smaller with such delicate material and beading that remind me of raindrops on cobwebs is beyond me. It doesn’t look perfect by any means, and I knew that going into this process, but I stood there in front of the mirror in absolute wonder at the fit. I’ve just been so used to seeing the dress look so droopy on me (I looked more like Dopey of the Seven Dwarfs than Snow White). The dress can’t be too tight because essentially the dress will crumble to pieces, but now the dress is simply maybe one size too big, and that’s a huge improvement and good enough for me. Everyone looked happy.
But then Grant pointed out the additional holes on the dress – holes that weren’t there the last time. Oy. So the dress now fits but now there’s large new holes? Was I supposed to laugh or cry or be numb? Who the hell knows? I tried not to look distraught at these holes lest I look ungrateful while she told me for the tenth time how difficult working on the dress has been. And I get it. I appreciate her hard work, time, effort, and sweet demeanor. But she had said she could do it no problem, and she’s had the dress for almost one month longer than she said she needed. So I guess I didn’t understand how she could miss these holes, one large one being on the most visible part of the dress. We even confirmed with her by phone the day before to make sure the dress was ready. Luckily, we have a bit of time, but what if we didn’t? Also, I guess the most frustrating part is that twice now we’ve had to spend money to rent a zip car to go there for nothing. And she knows we don’t have a car. We go next week Wednesday to pick up the dress. Please let it be the last time. I’m sure she feels the same.
In the meantime, I’m going to have nightmares about large holes being created on my bum on the cab ride to the ceremony.