I didn’t go for the story, I went for the dress. I really mean it. But in a city of cosmic shopping uncertainties, I left the Kleinfeld’s sample sale with everything I hadn’t come looking for and without that one elusive thing every girl dreams of: the perfect gown.
Although I think it’s a silly word, perfect, and a silly concept, perfection, the betrothed say that it truly exists: a wedding dress that makes you forget about cellulite, stretch marks, your rent check and all the bitter ways marriage can end. That there is a moment when you look in the mirror and say “I do.” As in, I DO look drop dead stunning in this gown. I will shout Hava Nagila from the top of my lungs and I will turn heads. So me of little faith decided that she would mosey on over to the Kleinfeld’s annual sample sale; it started at 5 pm, it’s a breezy summer Tuesday in the city, and I am on vacation. As I walked south on 6th avenue, I paused at 20th st. Left or right? Just east of 6th or just west? I suppose the blinding bling should have directed me; as I turned west, at around 3 pm, there stood, and sat, about 60 women, brides and brides’ little helpers: mothers, friends, sisters.
There was a silent aggression in the air- first, you do the requisite subtle stare: engagement ring. Then, assess her style. Assess her size. Will she be competition? Can I take her? As I retrieve my number, 39 (not so bad), I walk to the back of the line, watching and being watched. There’s a quiet aggression, like drunk people at a country club. As I take my place behind the last girl, the sun ducks behind a building and my cell phone vibrates. It’s a text message from my fiance: “good luck, baby. And if anyone fights you for a dress, go for their knees.” No matter how many jokes people make about the infamous Friends gown shopping episode, I know there’s some truth in this message: use all my private school savvy, and fight like hell. But two hours later, I was leaving, carrying out only a pair of sandals that I bought earlier uptown.
There were cameramen flocking the line, interviewing girl #1, after all, being the first person in line at the Kleinfeld’s sample sale must make you some kind of New York wonder. They also swarmed around friendly faces, absurd conversations, generous talkers. As a writer and consummate New Yorker, I am embarrassed to confess that I didn’t realize the enormity of such an event; the press was out. So it was sotto voce that I discussed bikini waxes, with my neighbor on line. On a rare afternoon when nobody in my life could accompany me on such a journey, I found myself awash in conversation with my bridal buddies. In fact, I spent about a hour and a half talking incessantly with the loveliest young woman, a makeup artist-soon-to-be-teacher named Lisa Rothenberg (she does weddings!) and her warm, generous mother who provided chocolate covered almonds for all the parched, exhausted brides in her sight. All we needed was a lemonade stand. This was the highlight of the day and the almonds were moist and decadent. People who camp out together for such events will always share a special bond, like those together at summer camp, a blackout, the LSATs.
Upon entering, I was herded to the back, asked to turn in my number, and then the debriefing began; the woman’s tight bun and long face wiggled as she directed me: three dresses at a time, take them off the rack yourself, place them over there, she points to a man, one of the only in the place, and he will help you get a room. I roamed around for about 10 minutes, taking this much more lightly then one should, I suppose. Others zoomed and zipped while I slowly stuck my hands in the plastic covering the gowns; milky whites, washed out lemons, dirtied puffs of clouds, drifted into my fingers. The racks with dresses under $800.00 must have all been snatched up by numbers 1-38. And, in my humble opinion, anything over $800.00 should really be decided upon with your mother. I’m all about a great deal. And I never need perfection. But no returns, no more than three dresses at a time, no alterations and no personal dressing room? It simply wasn’t worth it to me today.
In short, water at the bodega: $2. Tasti-Delite on the walk there: $3. Finding a fabulous make-up artist for my wedding, while standing on line: $300. Not having a list of rules while trying on wedding gowns: priceless.
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Was the sale July 25, 2008?