The bridal gown is ordered, the veil and accessories came early, they are tucked away in hiding. Now it is time for the Mother of the Bride, affectionately known as MOB to buy a dress. Daughter bride says she does not want me to wear a floor length gown. Aaawwww I was looking forward to getting one, Never mind, it is her day, tea length it is.
We go to the MOB dress racks. They are all, well, kind of old looking. Are all MOB’s 60+? I quietly complain about the matronly offerings.
“You don’t want to look too sexy mom, I am the bride”.
“Yes my love you are, I do know that. ‘Sexy’ is not really my style. I want you to be in the spotlight.”
The assistant interjects “Your mom should wear what she wants to, something she feels comfortable in and will wear later.” She withered under the look my daughter gave her. Not another peep was heard from that assistant.
The store was void of tea length dresses, but stocked with floor length or above the knee beauties. And this is a MOB specialty store. I head to a nearby boutique. Lots of tea length dresses there, filmy, floaty, pretty things. My daughter runs down the racks and brings me 6 or 7 dresses to try on. Did I tell you that stripping down and trying on clothes in a tiny cramped cubicle is not my idea of fun? I did it anyway. None looked good. She brings me 4 more. Soon I am neck deep in "not the one" dresses.
Another assistant, another comment. “I think your mom can choose her own. Let her worry about her gown. You have enough to worry about.” I know daughter is not buying this line but I am rather enjoying the contest.
“Your mom looks like she has good taste, don’t worry we do not sell ‘cougar sexy mama gowns’ here.” A smile, daughter is relaxing, so am I.
“I really can take care of myself lovee, how about we change roles, I will do the looking and picking and you can do the approving. Deal?”
“Ok mom but no pastels, you will fade into the wall. I want you to be seen. My dress is formal, you need to choose an equally formal one, only tea length. I don’t want you to wear the same color as the bridesmaids but you need to compliment their colors.” Lips to my ear she whispers the colors as though I have forgotten them. I congratulate myself for keeping silent at this point.
“You need to get something spectacular, something that says ‘my girlie is getting married and I am proud’, can you do that? But not floor length. You still have nice shoulders don’t cover them up." (I had no idea why she expects my shoulders would have become 'not nice' by now, is that something else I have to look forward to? Who knew?)
"Square necklines do not look good on you, you know that, so scrap those. You will need new shoes, not too high a heel and jewelry, not crystals, I hate crystals. You will need new lipstick, one with more color than you usually wear.” She reads my silence to mean that the deal is struck.
Later I hear her telling her dad “I didn’t pick mom’s outfit. She chose her own. She has good taste you know. I have enough to worry about without fussing with her over what she wears.”