Dress #One: My mother made this dress and I love that I lived in the era where the height of child hair styles included Heidi braids and baby's breath. The flowers I held were fake, but I'm sure my angelic aura was real.
Dress #Two: Very nice dress in a stunning colour. If only I had been able to do something about those tan lines. In November - how is that even possible? And the shellacked hair - proving, even in formal situations, I never know what to do with my hair.
Also, as I walked down the aisle, revelling in my 30 seconds of attention, I was panicking because I had put the rings on my own fingers so I wouldn't lose them, and they were stuck. Even a man's ring was no match for my sausage digits.
Dress #Three:I was given free rein with the design of this dress and it proved to be too much pressure. But I really love the final product. I recently wore it to coordinate a wedding and I love that it doesn't look too "bridesmaid-y".
Again, the hair is huge and full of at least 3/4 of a can of hairspray. What do I tell these stylists? That I will be attending the reception via helicopter or that the head table is placed close to the bar and the wind tunnel?
Don't mind the sour expression - when you see it close up, I'm not a total bitch. Really.