The full cover for the second novella in the BRIDESMAIDS series has been revealed!
The One With The Wedding Dress is the second in a series of four novellas following one bride and her four bridesmaids from proposal to altar, following The One With The Engagement Party.
The One With The Hen Weekend and The One With The White Wedding will follow. Look out for their cover reveals as the year goes on.
To celebrate, here’s my own wedding dress shopping story!
“I think it’s just your proportions are a bit off,” the lady in the dress shop said, thoughtfully. “You’re petite, but your torso is quite long, considering. The dress would look a lot better once it was made to measure…”
It was my fourth dress shop of the day and I was feeling incredibly disheartened. My bridesmaids were flagging. I had expected to feel like a princess the minute I started putting dresses on, but instead I just felt like a child playing dress up. I knew it was often a long, hard slog before a bride could say yes to the dress – and I knew I was quite picky – but I still hadn’t expected to feel NOTHING.
We almost sacked off the last shop of the day and went to get a bottle of wine, but we decided it would be too rude when we had an appointment arranged. Six more sample dresses pulled from the rails, six more disappointments. I wasn’t even close to what I wanted (not that I even knew what that was).
“What is it you think you want?” the salesgirl asked, reading my mind. “Or, at least, what do you know you absolutely don’t want?” That phrasing was easier to answer, and I rattled off my list of wedding dress no-nos. “Humour me with this one dress,” the girl asked, producing a gown that looked like nothing on the peg – frothy and boxy and with an overlay pattern to the skirt (that was one of my no-nos!) and pretty fussy (nine separate layers and a huge train!) but, being overly British, I couldn’t bring myself to be rude, so I shuffled behind the curtain with her and let her dress me in the bridal beast.
We were off to a good start – the dress fit me like a glove (everything else had either been left unzipped or had to be fastened to me using bull dog clips at the back) and – miraculously! – the waist was where it was meant to be, even on oddly proportioned moi. As I rustled out from the changing area, my gossiping bridesmaids fell quiet. “That’s it,” one of them proclaimed. “That’s the one.” The others agreed. “It was nothing on the hanger but that dress was made for you!”
Luckily, when I got on the little step and turned to face the mirror, I agreed…