You’ve probably heard of Say Yes To The Dress – the reality show where the bride chooses her wedding dress at a fancy high end shop, and once she’s made her dramatic decision, the small crowd she’s invited to be her witnesses, all cheer wildly. Well, I’m here to tell you there is no such TV show for the mother’s of the bride or groom. Those moms do some lonely shopping as fraught older women mumbling to themselves with a dressed pulled down tightly, “Probably not.” Or it makes me look too wide. Or too prim, or like I’m trying too dang hard, or even more alarming – how many dresses did I order on-line at four am waiting for my night time Benadryl to kick in?
My son is marrying his lovely fiancé in a few months. I am excited (like really excited) for this gig. I believe I’m a person who knows how to shop, can look reasonably put together in her clothes, and most importantly – I’m capable of decision making like a grown up. Alas – all false when it comes to the mother of the groom dress. It’s as if I’m a neanderthal who’s never worn clothes before, making outlandish mistakes on what might look best.
Let’s see – first there was the slip dress. I know. I know. What was I thinking? But the wedding is in Portugal in August. The bride’s family is from there and we’re thrilled to be visiting but everyone talked about how hot it would be – thus the on-line ordering of the light weight pretty slip dress. It arrived when I was pasty white from our northern winter and to put it simply – it was a tragic mistake. The next was its replacement – the company didn’t do returns, only exchanges. Postage required to return it. Postage required to receive the next. I’d ordered a bigger size and went from revealing every bump and bulge to something too large, creating an amazon-woman effect. Rather than pay more postage to the US I had it altered to be smaller which helped me realize that it wasn’t just the fit I didn’t like. I hated everything about the stupid dress except how it had looked on the decades younger model.

In-between waiting for mail order (that expression shows my mother-of-the-groom age) I was browsing in-person in big shops, little shops, shops in other cities and finding …. nothing. The salespeople who were always sure to congratulate me on my son getting hitched, said things like “how exciting” and of course, “Portugal in August, that will be warm.” And then showed me too heavy prim gowns, with some notion of mother of the groom written all over them; solid colours, lots of draping with accompanying jackets meant to cover everything that I suppose I’m intended to cover. At least three of the saleswomen said, “You’ll wear spanx, right?” And tried to convince me that the magical modern girdle is what all the well-dressed ladies are sporting these days. In Portugal? In August?
I have three friends whose thirty-something kids are getting married this summer and all of them seem to agree that us moms of the groom and moms of the bride are tossed into some sort of fashion box assumption. Most of us probably didn’t imagine we’d be this old when our kids tied the knot, but it feels like the fashion industry imagined we’d be even older.
When my daughter got married twelve years ago, I wanted to look like Kate Middleton’s mom at that spectacular royal wedding – she wore a simple but elegant shift with a slim fitting jacket. I doubt she ordered it on-line at four am in a sleepy stupor. I didn’t quite pull off the princess look Kate’s mom had but I kinda, sorta did. That wedding of our daughter’s was on an island on Canada’s west coast in the fall. I guess I’m hung up on the European guests at my son’s summer nuptials and how they will exude style.
I bought dress number three at Nordstroms and now I’m worried it’s too fancy, too floral, and here’s the kicker – maybe even too shapely. It can’t be returned because Nordstroms closed shop in Canada (though all I got was a lousy five per cent off.) Oh, did I mention in all this grumbling that the right dress must be able to be cleverly rolled up and travel in my carry-on because we all fear lost baggage. This fancy floral will roll up, but is it – I don’t know – silly? Not staid enough?
Perhaps I’m just worried that it doesn’t fit mother of the groom status and calls for the dreaded annoying spanx in the Portugal heat? I think … but I’m not positive, that in the wee hours last night I ordered a backup dress off one of those sites with beautiful dresses styled for mature women (with young models) and too good to believe prices.

All this insane shopping aside, in a quiet moments when I forget the search, I’m able to focus on the overseas celebration; on meeting the bride’s far away family, on being nurtured by the feast that they promise is central to the whole affair, on how thrilled our granddaughters will be to finally be flower girls, and on our loved ones who have been able to orchestrate the long trip with much anticipation of the affair. The truth for us mothers of brides and grooms is that we will look just fine, and all eyes will be on the couple, who will be stunning – and what will make us most attractive will be our splendid beaming grins.