On Love and Jesus, but Mostly the Arduous Quest for the Perfect Wedding Guest Dress
...Y'all already know the damn vibes...
“If you’re a bird, I’m a bird…”
What a line read. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Ryan Gosling was robbed of the Oscar in 2004, not just because his turn as Noah in The Notebook was the performance of his career, but because this movie did what many have attempted and very few have succeeded in doing—it changed an entire generation’s relationship to one of the most fundamental of human conditions: love.
I’ve had love on the brain a lot recently. From my fruitless pursuit of it, to witnessing the real deal up close and personal because, it is that famed time of year that us women in their near mid-thirties know so well… IT’S WEDDING SEASON, BABY!
I had the distinct honor of attending what Loewe comms don Daniel Motta Mello described as “The Met Gala for Publicists”: The holy union of PR maven Gabrielle Katz and Owen Beaufort-Zeal. I won’t spoil much because I am positive that this wedding will be covered exclusively by Vogue.com or something similar, but what I will say is that love, as it were, still does, in fact, exist!
So, back to the bird thing: This was my first wedding invitation that came with a moodboard for guests attire. Fitting for a bride as fabulous as Gabby (it comes with the namesake, what can I say?) But, upon opening the attachment, a wave of equal parts excitement and fear quickly rushed over me. Saccharine colors and rich taffetas. Florals. Bows, and dramatic column skirts in silks. John Galliano’s Dior, 2000s Oscar. It was Charles James and editorials by Grace Coddington. And I… well, I was scared.
Let me be clear: this anxiety was not moodboard specific, or even unique to this wedding.
For my entire adult life, I have oscillated between a size US 12 and size US 20. It is impossible to dress. And while I pride myself on absolutely freaking it with the resources I do have, time and bandwidth for creativity was not on my side this time. Normally, I buy multiples and have my brilliant tailor, Thao, Frankenstein them together to accommodate my body. Or, I buy unclockable fast-fashion (and hate myself for it) and pair it with eye-wateringly expensive accessories to elevate the overall look and deceive even the most scrupulous eyes. I can make vintage feel fresher than the brand new. But, evening-wear has always eluded me.
Long lean lines aren’t made in my size because the assumption based on the worst kind of consumer research is that I want to camouflage my curves with floof and volume. Floor length is never long enough for me because being tall and fat is probably the least considered body type on earth. And fine fabrics are often sacrificed for the synthetic because, well, it would take more yardage to cover my frame and that can get expensive. Plus, adding in a little spandex to stretch any material means not needing to actual cut to size.
As an anxious avoidant, I waited until the very last minute to confront these monumental challenges and procure my dress, even though I knew that given the considerable expense of attending this wedding, I wanted to make sure that, at the very least, I looked and felt good. Hell, maybe I’d even get a cute picture or two to busk for affirmation on the internet. But this is what we’re working with online…