It’s here. It’s finally, finally here: my very first exclusive invitation to a big-city bridal salon for (wait for it) “discerning brides.”
Tickets usually cost $75 a piece (because yes, it makes total sense to shell out this kind of cash for the privilege of being advertised to) but because my high school BFF is also attending and got a discount code from David’s Bridal (sooooo discerning), she was able to recommend me for the oh-so-coveted exclusive invite, complete with its own discount code.
Navigating the pyramid scheme of bridal salon invites, however, is just the beginning. For once you register, you have to get vetted.
That’s right folks: the salon is for legitimately engaged couples only.
To prove your status, you have to submit a link to your gift registry.
And if, God forbid, you don’t have a registry, you have to submit a screen shot of your Facebook page showing your change in status.
Because if it’s not on Facebook, it’s not official.
Having neither a registry nor a Facebook relationship status, my first instinct is to say “F*ck this sh*t!”
But there’s going to be cake. And champagne.
And goodie bags.
(Although I did decline to purchase—yes, purchase—the optional gift bag when I registered so who knows… I’ll probably just end of with a bunch of brochures and breath mints.)
But for the sake of cake, I say,
“Okay, I’ll play your game. I see your screen shot and I raise you a blog post. In fact, I raise you a whole 800-and-something blog posts because if you don’t believe that this is legitimately happening… well you might not be the only one but that’s not the point. The point is I am getting married, however shocking this may seem.”
So today I am driving down to DC for the official discerning-brides-only-salon. I’m meeting my high school BFF beforehand and we’ve booked back-to-back appointments to try on wedding gowns in Georgetown from Anthropologie’s BHLDN line (they’re too cool for vowels).
And as much as I like talking smack about the Wedding Industrial Complex, I’m actually tickled pink to be doing this today. Said friend and I met when we were 14 and have seen each other through every single romance, break up and recovery (both real and imagined) for the past decade and a half.
She started dating her fiancé around the same time I started dating PIC, got engaged about a week before I did and will be getting married within two weeks of our wedding—it’s like the great Jane Austen herself is smiling down upon us.
We’ll just ignore the fact that there is only one Colin Firth/Darcy to go around and the fact that no one in their right mind ever wanted to be Jane.