Having finished yodelling Matchmaker, Matchmaker (Fiddler on the Roof) with mission accomplished, I soon had to change my tune to Dressmaker, dressmaker, find me a fit, cut me a cape, sew me a veil.
With the engagement still fresh and my trip on Cloud 9 just begun, my
pre-nuptial bubble was burst when I was told I needed to start organising our wedding. My man told me in no uncertain terms to stir from my slumber and get a grip.
With the fear of claiming Klutzy Bride of the Year pumping through my veins, I was inside a wedding dress hire shop within the week. Going it alone, I soon learnt, was not the way to do wedding dress shopping. With no one to help, except a few disinterested shop assistants, the outing was despairing. Zips would not zip, trains were too long, and it seemed boob tubes were the only offering, with the glaring problem, of bare shoulders.
I soon enrolled a friend for this arduous task which alleviated some of the pain, but the dresses had not changed. Ungainly trains and too tight bodices were the order of the morning and the white puffery was just too grand.
Now, six weeks on, I have traversed all corners of the city (Johannesburg) from Rivonia to Bruma, in pursuit of said dress and learnt the hire option doesn’t come cheap. Hire shops charge from R30 ($2) to R100 ($6) just to try the dress on and if that doesn’t put you off, the prices might. R4 000 to R6 000 was not the budget I had in mind. Then the’re alterations and a three-month layover while the dress takes its time to arrive from Europe.
It’s an exhausting exercise, one for which I am not trained, and I suspect requisite fitness will continue to evade me.
That said, I’ve decided a dressmaker is the preferred route.