When Virtual Reality Meets Actual Wedding

By Allison Kaplan

You just can't fully appreciate the meaning of the term "modern bride" until you receive an e-mail link to a designer's web site where you are instructed to click on style 186 and envision the soft peach dress in a smoke gray.

Smoke, steam, mist or flame - the dress is ugly. Even when I go to the web site at work, on my turbo computer with a larger screen, no improvement. Now I'm able to see that those vertical lines I thought were imprinted on my eyes from staring at the screen too long are actually subtle stripes running the length of the skirt.

I am a bridesmaid. Every cliché is coming true.

When last we left the GenX wedding contest, my friend Dana had succumbed to the social pressure of legalizing her relationship with her longtime boyfriend, putting Kathy and me in the running to be last, which in our twisted game of independence is really first.

Kathy and I teased and taunted each other at Dana's wedding last fall. We were in jovial spirits the whole time, because we were not bridesmaids.

Dana's family obligations bumped us down to usherettes. Handing out programs and sweetly saying "welcome" over and over and over didn't bother me at all, in the lovely black dress of my choice.

Kathy yielded to her Prince Charming's proposal some two months ago. So I am the only remaining single woman from our college-day trio. (Single, defined as, there is no ring on this finger.) I win. But Kathy is not going down without a fight.

There are seven of us bridesmaids. We come in all shapes and sizes.

Yet even the smallest among us thinks her hips are a couple of French silk pies too wide.

The maid of honor likes slinky. I would agree, if I were several inches taller and flatter. There are two who refuse to wear spaghetti straps. One is discouraging sleeveless altogether. Another detests fitted waists.

Then there is Kathy, who gets to decide.

Back in college, it was Kathy who always conducted our apartment searches. She would continue touring buildings months after the three of us had signed a lease, and she would begin the search for the next year's palace days after moving in.

So it's not surprising that on her latest mission, Kathy appears to enjoy shopping for dresses more than actually choosing one.

The virtual dresses on the web were harmless enough to consider. Actual reality hit when I was called upon to try some on. Kathy set a date for us to meet at a department store at 10 a.m. Then I checked with her mom to find out the real plans: Fancy bridal boutique, 4 p.m.

I put on jeans and a button down for the occasion, knowing I'd have to get undressed 900 times. Kathy called back to say there was a Vera Wang trunk show going on at the store, better show up in black pants and a dressy sweater.

I didn¹t mind changing outfits so much as knowing we would be shopping for dresses made by one of the most exclusive wedding designers. No one outside Hollywood really wears Vera Wang bridesmaid gowns.

Right?

Naive girl I am.

This was the kind of appointment-only bridal boutique where you have to be buzzed in. Lots of stressed out women in black skitter around, retrieving dresses and grabbing veils. Blond women in tailored suits and heels hold fluffy white gowns in front of the mirror, dreamily.

The boutique serves champagne and cookies. This is, after all, a celebration. But when your hour is up in one of the large fitting rooms which must be reserved weeks in advance, you'd better get out. The women in black do not tolerate stragglers.

So we grabbed fistfuls of designer dresses - which I couldn't help noticing were all over $200 a pop, not including the inevitable alterations and dyed-to-match shoes. The three lucky bridesmaids present on this day favored a straight chiffon dress with delicate little straps.

The maid of honor whipped a camera out of her bag and silently motioned for me to pose. Pictures are strictly prohibited in the boutique; I guess they worry you might try to one up Vera. I didn't mind breaking the rules - it was a 007 moment in an otherwise utterly 90210 day.

But the spaghetti strap protesters weren't there. And they were certain to pop out of this dress. You'd think designers would realize there is no such thing as a style that fits everybody and offer each dress in a few different versions, to accommodate our various curves and bulges.

Our hour was up.

Kathy's latest e-mail took me to the Jim Hjelm collection - which I am encouraged to say I did not read about in InStyle magazine's celebrity wedding issue. The dress I was supposed to view was shown on the web site only from the back, which is probably the way we should plan to stand at the wedding.

I should just be happy that my high-tech friend Kathy favors an electronic dress search over additional boutique fittings. Wherever I control the mouse, there is always the option to delete.

Send comments to Allison at Singlstyle@aol.com