I Am Not Wearing a Fucking Wedding Dress

What would you wear to your wedding if you didn't care what anyone else thought? This question isn't an invitation to wear that outfit necessarily (unless, you know what the answer is and really want to wear it — in which case, fuck yeah!), but it is one to consider if you're getting married and don't want to feel like a "bride."

Every few years, I revisit the question of what I'd wear if I were getting married now and as time goes on, the outfit gets more realistic — it becomes an actual outfit. No longer A Wedding Dress, full stop. Garments I bought and loved and put together to get married then hung in my closet and wore again, over and over, when occasions called for it. (And sometimes, even, when they didn't.)

The idea of a big huge bridal dress is thrilling to lots of people (myself included), it's fun to dress up in an outfit that serves no utilitarian purpose. The act can make you feel like the subject of your own magazine spread — the supermodel of your own life! It was a seductive proposition to me.

But not one that has aged well! Here's a picture from my wedding, 9 years ago. I wore a fresh flower crown in my hair with 6 strands of gold chains around my neck that my grandmother lent to me, and this organza motorcycle jacket with a tulle peplum to "match" the dress's skirt. I'm wearing fake eyelashes, my face is "airbrushed," and there are extensions in my hair. I'm compelled to tell you I was 23 when I got married as a sort of defense against the sum of this look, which indicates nothing if not my own agency's absence — but I digress.

Maybe the proposition is seductive to you too, but in the event that it's not — that you're formalizing a contract between you and the person you have sex with most regularly and don't want to make (wear) a dramatic thing of it — I suggest the following:

Answer the question above. I'll repeat it: What would you wear to your wedding if you didn't care what anyone else thought? If you were tapping into your inner fuck yeah .

Do you have the vision?

Okay!

How does it feel, what does it look like? How practical or impractical is it? When you come back to reality, does it still make sense? Like, can you wear it and still have a good time — stand up, sit down, give a hug, get a hug, dance til your armpits sweat?

Alternatively, can you confront the possibility that you do kind of care what some people think? We all do! It's born from the very human desire to fit in, to be of your people, accepted and with them, and when considered in those terms, it's also hard to judge as a terrible thing we must change in ourselves.

The goal for the occasion is really to feel super fucking awesome. Whatever it takes! Like confident and grounded and ready to rock on a magic carpet of love and support made of fluffy cotton love balls and stuff. If for any such reason (practicality, convenience, self-consciousness), wearing the give-no-fucks-what-anyone-thinks outfit interferes with your ability to tap into the spirit, don't do it! Why would you? But don't throw it out either. Let's take the spirit of what defines the look and Tim Gunn it. (See: "Make it work!")

Now, this is going to change depending on your ~vision~ and depending on what you're wearing when you feel most relaxed in your chosen environment. So the best way to explain this is by describing the formula. It looks like this:

The below is an example that demonstrates the sausage-making from my own wardrobe. It's broken down with the math (thought process) underneath it.

To assemble the wildest dream look, I asked: what are some of the most exciting garments I have in my closet — the ones that make me want to have a reason to get dressed? The question took me to these green silk pants (they're great — and one-size-fits-all). I've only worn them with sweaters and socks, and this embroidered tulle top that usually, I wear with mid-wash jeans and suede boots. I added a pair of slingback sandals (lately I find them more versatile than ankle strap sandals or all together backless ones because they're kind of a combo of both):

And it felt pretty great! The urge to document the look overcame me and often that's an indicator that I've hit a note. So then I thought, But would I really wear this to my wedding? Would I even wear it out or am I simply enjoying the novelty of this combination I've never thought of before, which pleasantly and surprisingly seems actually to work? I like the metallic accents on the top, and the shade of striking green on the pants, but what would be, for me, the "safest" version of this look? The one that is less vulnerable because it's less risky, more tried, more sure? That took me to:

This. My paternal grandmother wore this skirt to my dad's wedding in 1984. She gave it to me about two decades later and some five years after that, Raf Simmons showed what became an iconic collection for Jil Sander (Spring 2011) that will be etched into my memory 4eva. A year later, Carol Lim and Humberto Leon showed their first collection for Kenzo, which scratched at a similar itch, serving as a sort of premeditated validation point, or maybe an unwitting influence that the outfit above works. That it has worked before. Here, I'll show you what I mean:

To the left is a look from Raf Simons' Jil Sander collection from 2011, featuring a skirt pretty similar to the one that my grandmother gave me paired with a white t-shirt. To the right is a look from Kenzo Spring 2012, expressing similar volume in a pair of pants but paired with an open-hem top. Here's my pass once more:

Similar skirt, open hem peplum top. Ta da! I liked how I feel in the look — I'll probably wear it if an occasion calls for it — but it stopped seeming extraordinary because it's been done, so I went back to the drawing board. I combined the conceptual elements I most preferred from look A: the metallic accents, the unconventional pairing and what I preferred from look B: it would be easy to hug and dance and move, I could sit, I could stand, I want to wear a big skirt and like how it looks with an open hem and thus I ended up here:

A sequined tank top (peeling the whole damn scab off the former metallic itch) with a loose enough hem (see: peplum top no.2) that I could wear left out — no problem, but if I want to tuck in works too. It creates a sort of blouse effect over the belt-like waistline.

Incorporating a strand of beads (this one is Lizzie Fortunato; I think it's sold out but this one is great for $45) makes a formal skirt seem less stuffy, it's like it says, "I know you can't see my legs, but they're boogying under here." Also, the color combination of the yellow/green sequins with the turquoise is fluid and oceanic and absolutely fulfilling-ly perfect at every second of every day, just like marriage.

I also put on sunglasses to relax the pairing of tender silk faille (the fabric on the skirt) with sequins. They do the same thing a t-shirt or leather jacket or something ripped and jean would to make the whole thing more "cool."

In sum, the equation: Outfit of my wildest dreams (Look #1) divided by realistic prohibitions (conceptual, but also, look #2) plus elements of wildest dream outfit (metallic accents, unlikely pairing) carried over realistic prohibitions = The Look.

These sunglasses are Rayban wayfarers, I like Warby Parker's Harris sunglasses too. The sequined tank is from H&M; I've had it for something like 7 years — here are three picks from Etsy for $28, $48 (!!) and $58; here's aspirational inspo. The skirt is from a brand that no longer exists; this one from Etsy is giving me mad vintage Saint Laurent vibes.

Does this get me invited to your wedding or what?

Signing off yours truly,

Leandra

ramosopirted.blogspot.com

Source: https://leandramcohen.substack.com/p/what-do-i-wear-if-im-getting-married

Share this post