Guest blogger Kate Meyers: I'm not a fashion-y kind of gal. My very funny cousin, Larry Meyers (father of "SNL's" Seth), took one look at my closet and said, "So where's the closet that you keep your clothes in?" Larry, and everyone else, makes jokes about my inability to dress like a girl. I moved to Colorado because it's a place where straight women wear comfortable shoes. I didn't go to my high school prom because I didn't want to wear one of those fancy dresses. When I got married the first time, I pictured myself in a 1940s suit, much like the one my mom wore on her wedding day in 1948. She looked stunning and classy -- a disciple of the Ingrid Bergman school. So I found a seamstress in New York to make me a suit, only in white. And it didn't work. I looked like someone confused about the party. So I called my mom ten days before my wedding and three days before I was heading home for said event.
My mom was a four-star general when it came to planning, and if you asked her to take on a problem, she would lead the charge, guns blazing (or maybe credit cards blazing). My first morning at home, we headed to a dress store in Shadyside, a fashionable Pittsburgh shopping district. There was a dress in the window I loved; it had a sheer, long underdress with silk lining the collar and the sleeves, and the outer layer was like a crocheted kimono. I was getting married in the outdoor garden of Phipp's Conservatory and the dress (it was my size) felt comfortable and elegant and perfect for the occasion. The whole thing took ten minutes and cost $250. And we walked out giggling like girls. My mom, who thought of everything, later called the owner to make sure no one on the guest list had the dress. Turns out, there had been one other one sold, and it belonged to the wife of a Pittsburgh Steeler. There were no Steelers invitees, so all was safe.
This time around, absent of my mom's company, I wasn't sure about what I would wear. So while I was at home, trapped at my desk and waiting for a certain celebrity to call me (who was already 20 minutes late), I decided to do some online window-shopping. I went straight to J. Crew Wedding and immediately fell in love with a floor-length ivory silk chiffon dress. Admission: I liked the long-haired brunette model and pictured myself as her (kinda like taking Rene Russo's picture to the hairdresser. But hey, you can't hate a girl for visualizing). Anyway, this dress -- V-neck, sleeveless, very plain and very elegant -- would even look good with flip-flops, which I was already hoping to wear. The price was $425. And as a divorced mom with two daughters yet to be put through college, I thought that seemed a bit high.
But I kept coming back to it. I sent all my girlfriends to take a look. They approved. My nieces in Massachusetts, who are "Say Yes to the Dress" addicts, approved. My daughters approved. My groom approved. (We don't believe in superstition; we're too old.) And then last week, I noticed that J.Crew had a sale in which anything you bought on the Internet over $150 was 25 percent off. So there it was: my sign. Done deal.
My mom would love this dress. My friend Ana has already bequeathed me a pair of gorgeous beaded white wedding shoes (low-heel) to walk down the aisle in before I change into the aforementioned flip-flops. I'm hoping my cousin Larry will finally be impressed.