*Photos courtesy of Studio Bonon Photography
Buy The Dress
My Mom and Step-Mom were my support team that day. I tried on tons of dresses all day and found niente (nothing). By the sixth hour, I was over dress shopping. Luckily, we hopped into an unexpected store, Coral Gables Bridals in Miami, without an appointment. They had the best selection of Pronovias.
I didn’t have the energy to pull anymore dresses, so I let my Mom(s) do the picking. Thanks to the patience of Dulce, the owner, we squeezed me into my last four dresses of the day. The last dress I tried on was The One. A beautiful, full length, lace Maggie Sottero with a corset sewn in. I cried.
Plane to Berlin
Now to transport it to Italy where my fiancé was waiting. I was in line to board Air Berlin with the dress in an unmarked white garment bag, weighing down my arms like crazy. The stewardess at check-in didn’t let me hang the dress in the first class cabin or board first, so that I could find a safe place to stow the dress for the next eight hours. I cried.
Once I boarded, another stewardess offered to place the dress in an overhead compartment in first class. So, there she went, my dress, in first class sipping champagne. Lucky girl.
Plane to Rome
As soon as we landed, I grabbed my dress and headed for the next gate. There was a whole empty overhead compartment just for her. Perfect.
Train to Florence
I thought it would be a great idea if Nicco picked me up by train, so that we could relax together rather than drive a car in traffic for at least three hours. I should have listened to the Italian. What a dumb idea! I had to schlep the dress to the station to meet Nicco, then wait for the train, then board, then find a safe place for her to lay.
Bus Ride Home
Ha, so now without a car, we had to wait for the bus to take us from downtown to our house. By this time it had been 17 hours of travel with a lace dress and sore arms.
Rebuild The Dress?!
I looked for a dress shop to steam my dress and chose Sogno di Sposa (Bride’s Dream) because they had Pronovias, which made me feel like they knew how to work with lace. I google mapped their address on Via Pisana in Florence. My Mom and I ended up on the doorstep of an old lady’s house in Scandicci. Basically, we were no longer in Florence.
We finally arrived at the right place. I tried on the dress and soon had a swarm of Italian women with pins and scissors pulling at my dress and shaking their heads. I grabbed my Mom’s hand and cried.
I was getting married in two days and they wanted to rebuild my dress?! They unstitched some lace, ripped out some boning and began to rebuild the bossom. I just gave in and let them do what they do. The next time I saw the dress it was the morning of my wedding. It was perfect. Italians know what they’re doing.
Now, to put the dress on one last time – an outer body experience. I walked down the aisle with my Father for about 100 meters, the longest walk ever. I soon shared my vows with Nicco. I cried.
I had serious dress drama! And you, did you cry over your dress or have other bridezilla stories of your own?