Here’s a million-dollar business idea: Start a company that makes cute wedding shoes. This is not revolutionary. I realize there a gabillion shoes in the world, because I own half of them and have browsed the other half in the last month. But there is some downright ugly and otherwise wrong stuff out there in the wedding shoe realm. Can I get an amen?

I thought I had become the luckiest girl in the land when I stumbled (ahem) upon a most gorgeous pair of patent white Manolos for $50. (Long story short: former intern in New York, now with big-time fashion connections, invited to private sample sale, gracious enough to personal shop for me and drop off withUPS, et voila.)  Love. But these are four-and-a-half-inch heels, which is troublesome for two reasons. 1. Real short parents. (To which I would just say, “Love you guys, but…”) And more importantly, 2. My aisle is a dramatic concrete staircase leading to a reflecting pool below and I am a notorious clutz. Need I say more?

I just keep having this flash forward of wedding-day me tumbling down the stairs, and wishing I could communicate a message to present-day me: “Dooooon’t do it.” [Slow motion.]

wedding shoes

So I went shopping for the nine millionth time, and it is slim pickings. I am not at all opposed to wearing cute, non-wedding-y shoes for a pop of color; in fact, I want to. But try finding any really fun shoes under three inches. Matron city. Then the shoes that claim to be bridal seem either crazy teetering and expensive (because as we know, as soon as something calls itself bridal, the decimal point on the price tag moves over to the right), or cheap looking with a ‘90s dance club-style tapered heel for an overall Dyeable-ish effect. Gross.

I know I am sounding seriously crotchety. I know there are amazing shoes in the world. (Do I ever know!) I’m just not sure how many are right for big, white gowns. (Or maybe I need to just breathe, eat dinner, and step away from the racks.)

Kate Spade: You’re on the right track. Cute low heel with giant pewter bow. No need for those to be $285, though. Badgley Mischka: Close, but a little toobridal-y, with all the tulle and things. However, I did buy a great pair of the Mischkas with silver beading (on clearance upon clearance, which is the only way I shop), and at least I shave off about three-quarters of an inch from the original Manolos. Not much, but it’s a start. So they can have a showdown with the Manolos in my closet for what pair gets to take the ultimate prize.

And I hope they announce a winner before my next gown fitting, because a girl needs a hem, yo.

My first fitting was this evening. It was really thrilling, actually, just to be back in a bridal salon, because I have watched so many episodes of Say Yes to the Dress in the time since I have actually gotten to run my fingers over such fun, frothy confections in the real world. The fitting appointment, however, was not so much like Say Yes. The seamstress had a clinical disinterest about her that I assume comes from being a too-cool-for-school fashion type, so I forgave her. Especially because I would forgive any human on earth who tells me my once-sausage-casing-like dress is now too large and must be taken in.

So we talked about some serious boob cups (sewn inside and therefore hidden, $85) and to take in the bust a bit ($25), plus a mini-corset-like waist belt inside for support and cinching (a bargain at $30). Still deciding on dipping the neckline into a bit more of a sweetheart ($90 — seriously?). I’ll still need to take in the skirt ($90) and, once I know the shoes, to hem the gown at — wait for it — $185. (This is a non-beaded trumpet skirt. Beading or ballgown goes for $250.)

My once-naïve ideas about what this stuff costs continue to waft into the ether. Which is good, anyway, in case I decide I need a third pair of shoes before committing to this decision.

Written by prolog

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