The Wedding Dress That Got Away

You know when you see The One and you just know? You just know, in your heart of hearts, that you would bully someone - the guy next to you in line, an old high school pal you made an “if we’re not married by XYZ let’s marry each other” pact with - into proposing to you just so you could have a wedding, just so you could wear this dress? Yeah, they say you’d do anything for true love!

Luckily, I already have a wonderful partner that I am happy to spend the rest of my life with, dress or no dress. Which is great, because spoiler alert, I didn’t end up getting the dress. (But, I did get the guy, so it’s not a total loss!)

Anyway, back to the dress - I first spotted it over the summer in the Fancy Section at Neiman Marcus - I hardly ever go up to the third floor, but I was bumming around waiting for my mom and, to pass the time, I played this game that I love to play, wherein I pretend that NM gave me a wink and a nod to pick out any dress I wanted for free. I was being super picky, too, dismissing dresses that weren’t lined or that had loose threads. This imaginary free gown had to be perfect. I had to be able to glide out of my imaginary limo and slip right into my imaginary, celeb-filled table at an awards dinner, where I would gather the hem and be able to artfully climb the stairs to retrieve my imaginary award, maybe even giving a cute little Jennifer Lawrence stumble on my way up to the stage, just to show that despite my amazing gown, shiny friends, and vast achievements I’m still just a lovable goof in a couture dress. Hey, it’s my fantasy, okay?

Then I spotted this beautiful blue cotton candy tulle cascading out at me from behind something else, the hem peeking out and inviting me over with a come-hither wave. I pulled it out from behind whatever it was behind (who would do such a thing? Nobody puts baby in a corner!) and gasped - it was even more lovely than I could have imagined, its ivory bodice emerging from the sea of tulle, bold red poppies embroidered on in an almost haphazard way, criss-crossing on the torso, trailing their stems down to the pelvis. It had but one sleeve, surely making its wearer look like a wood-nymph or a romantically disheveled bruja of the chicest order.

I flipped the price tag around - $4655. (Or something. I lost track after the “4” and the “6”.) I was still swimming in the dream of "Neiman Marcus said I could pick whatever I wanted” when I showed it to my mom, hugging it to my body and beaming “how about this as a wedding dress?” like I was suggesting bolognese for dinner. I wasn’t even engaged at the time.

My mom, not knowing about the deal with Mr. Marcus the Benevolent, said “How much is that?” followed by a shrug and “it’s okay.”

Okay, mom.

No matter - it was a size four, a few thousand dollars, Mr. Marcus wasn’t returning my imaginary texts (We text.) about the free gown thing, and I should probably get engaged first.

I forgot about it (by which I mean I googled it a few dozen times, but couldn’t find anything resembling this beautiful creation on NM, Carolina Herrera’s website, runway photos, Instagram, and so on) and moved on.

Then a couple months later, I got engaged - coincidentally in Dallas, Texas, the birthplace of Neiman Marcus - and had to swing by the King of Prussia location when I got back home to exchange something, so I popped on up to the Third Floor to ask about the dress. They still had it, and that was the only size they had. It was still $46-whatever, and no, they wouldn’t be getting more in because it was a special order that the apparently deranged customer somehow decided she no longer wanted. I am praying for her to get well soon, because clearly she’s blind, ill, or broke if she didn’t end up getting this. I’d be sitting on my bed eating bon-bons and wearing it in full makeup if I got to accompany this dress home!

The good folks at Neiman Marcus, for whatever reason - maybe it was my Dallas tan, maybe it was my newly engaged glow - let me try it on. Or at least, try to try it on. Man was it tiny! Built for a sprite, probably made by a nymph and ironed by a fairy. The best I could do was hold it against my body and snap a selfie.

But I loved it. I still love it!!

Through some sleuthing, I learned that the dress is from Resort 2018. I scrolled hungrily through the lookbook online, and then - I found it! (Well, a photo of it, the actual merchandise is long gone by now.) Almost, almost as sweet as getting to wear it myself.

I also found a similar version of the dress, also Resort 2018, on TheRealReal, for around $1200.

Via Carolina Herrera

This one that clearly references the 2018 gown is available for 2022 at Neiman Marcus!

Via TheRealReal.com

Now, about the wedding. It was scheduled for May 9, 2020. And then, it was cancelled. (Thanks, Coronavirus.) We got married in my moms backyard earlier the month anyway, with a teeny tiny assemblage of siblings, their partners, and our parents, and I wore a white Cushnie off-the shoulder dress that was intended for our wedding afterparty. We plan to have the real wedding next year, although it’ll be more like an anniversary or vow-renewal. I won’t be wearing my dream Carolina Herrera dress, but I will get to (re)marry my dream man.

And, you know what I can do, and so I did do? I bought myself a t-shirt version of the dress, NWT, from Poshmark. How’s that for trickle-down economics?

The tee was release in October 2018 for Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and was co-designed by Julia Louis-Dreyfus for Saks Fifth Avenue’s Key to the Cure fundraiser’s 20th anniversary, and benefits AiRS Foundation, which helps women gain the reconstructive surgery that they need.

Maybe I could pair it with a blue tulle skirt, like CH Creative Director Wes Gordon did here, to an achieve a more daytime-ready version of the dress that stole my heart?

Image via Carolina Herrera