Continuing from the “Get drunk, get naked and BE somebody” post: The day started off well enough, although a little out of sorts from the previous night’s festivities. Coco had scampered off with her man and Zoe made it safely back to her hotel with her boy. Dallas went back to her abode to recollect herself, having been sober the night before and not planning on repeating that feat on this Saturday night. Post breakfast, Coco presented herself just in time for us to all make a break for it to North Station to hit up a dress shop where I am getting my dress made. We made the train, arrived in the quaint little town and then promptly got lost.
My Google Maps was failing me as I reassured the ladies that, “This is in no way a precursor to how the wedding abroad is being planned!” Luckily, after walking into multiple establishments, we were told that it was indeed on “Main Street,” except that it was one town over so we had to walk a mile or so to get there. We stopped in a local liquor store to pick up some bubbly, settling on poor man’s champagne, aka Prosecco, to commemorate the dress fitting. “Did this town just get better looking or are you not from around here?” remarked the shopkeep warmly.
“I don’t know about that, but you will all be better looking after some of this…”
We trekked down Main Street and passed some lovely New England/colonial-type homes, a horse farm/stable and finally, the shop. Inside, we met the bubbly lady who would be creating my dress. Before trekking upstairs, we meandered around her shop, looking at the little knickknacks, headbands, purses and other girly items that struck our fancy. “I need to buy some stuff,” announced Coco, who felt her cash burning holes in her pocket.
With mental notes made, we marched upstairs to the design table and got right to it. Scarlett, the future Esq., made sure the contract was in line as I was in no mood to hammer out loopholes and details. Zoe was snapping photos, creating “memories” to reflect on after all was said and done and Coco was….hungover. I felt a bit overwhelmed myself–the amount of “swatches” of fabrics and colors were massive.
After selecting a design and fabric–this close to deciding on a RED wedding dress, I signed a contract and felt like I’d accomplished something.
We headed back to the train, myself still wondering if I could really do a red wedding dress. Coco walked up beside me and reminded me: “You don’t get to pull off wearing a white gown all that often unless it’s your wedding–you’ll end up regretting it. And what about your mom–would it bother her?” Her simple remark and traditional take on the situation made it clear that white was the way to go and I could squeeze in some red perhaps in my hair, in lieu of a traditional veil.
Waiting for the train, Coco and I decided we needed some “travel juice” for the ride home. Scarlett was avidly opposed, having gotten into some trouble with the law for relieving herself on the streets of Philly, her mind cloudy with the effects of whiskey.
Still, Coco and I had no law schools to impress, so we signaled to each other to “make a break for it,” before the train came–in truly a over-dramatic fashion, Coco darted to the liquor store. She rushed back, bottle in brown paper bag and we boarded the train. Unfortunately, the train was packed with commuters and some sketchy guys who seemed like they’d had their fair share of hooker spit and Natty Ice–it was not a situation to get saucy in. So we saved the bottle for later. We’d soon find out the consequences of drinking all day and into the night…