For many girls, the fantasy of one’s wedding starts way before a partner is in the picture. Sure, most are just musings over the style of dress they’ll wear or the location they’ll choose, but I’ve also heard stories of women taking things to extreme…like booking a highly sought after band years in advance, just in case. I always listened to these stories in partial awe, but mostly in horror.
Yes, I definitely wanted a wedding. But there was no box under my bed with a magazine tear of the princess dress I’d been dreaming of for years; there was no venue I had to get married at, and there was certainly no ten-piece orchestra on speed dial (there would later be a three-piece mariachi band, but that’s for another story). Then the time came: My husband proposed to me on December 30, 2016. The next morning, I bought the first of an endless number of bridal magazines. It took me less than 24 hours to become that girl.
As a fashion editor living in New York City for the past 13 years, my style has become fairly uniform: blacks, grays, and navys in clean shapes fill most of my closet. After weathering my twenties in a sea of the latest and greatest trends, at the ripe age of 33 I’d finally carefully and steadily crafted a personal style I was comfortable with. I imagined this would carry through into my wedding vision, but that was dispelled the moment I opened up the first issue of Brides.
Perhaps the location I picked (Palm Springs, California) had a little to do with my outfit planning spiral, or maybe it was because I was a late bloomer to the whole “wedding fantasy” thing, but I spent the next nine months buying and returning a million dresses, scanning e-commerce sites daily for the perfect accessory for each and every outfit (and there would be many), and at my most extreme, even traveling across the country to find THE perfect piece. Here’s how it all went down.