Hey you guys! What’s up? How was everyone’s week. Mine was very weddingy which is now a real word, in the OED, look it up, fools.
Seriously, though, this week was a veritable nuptial extravaganza. Tuesday I went bridesmaid dress shopping and Wednesday Brian & I went suit shopping (more on both of those below!) and last night I went to a Wedding Expo which was…definitely something! It was a real thing.
Quick backstory, I’m working on this fantastic book coming out in May called Save the Date: The Occasional Mortifications of a Serial Wedding Guest by Jen Doll, which is amazing. I very rarely actually talk about my books here because I don’t want the authors to get like, a google alert and read this and realize what a freak their publicist is BUT I already know that both the author (hi, Jen!) and editor (hi, Ali!) a) read this blog and b) know I’m a total freak so it’s all good. Also good? The book, so you should probably just go ahead and pre-order it riiiiiight now.
Jen was invited to attend the New York Magazine Wedding Expo and thought: “who could I invite to join me who is engaged and will do anything for a story and some free wine?” The answer was crystal clear. And thus, Jen & I found ourselves in a chic event space in Chelsea at 4:45 PM on a Thursday sipping white wine and stuffing our tote bags with swag.
The expo was super nice but also suuuuper overwhelming. There were tons of people all about, including one woman whose job it was to walk around in a slinky wedding gown carrying a sign advertising the designer and DJ’s playing loud party music and hoardes of women roaming in packs – many of whom brought their baby strollers which, like, I don’t judge the carriage before the marriage, you do you, but why did you bring your baby here? I know it’s tough to get a sitter but like, is this really the establishment where you want to be carting around a toddler? Possibly no.
Like any trade show there were just booths and booths and booths of vendors and everyone had some kind of treat (macrons! mini cakes! LOBSTER ROLLS!) to lure you to stop and peruse their wares and most also had some kind of opportunity to register for a giveaway, which we did with wild abandon. I can’t remember everything I signed up to win but the list included:
- false eyelashes
- cake pops
- skin treatment
- a full set of bridesmaid dresses (!)
- engagement photos
- dance lessons (!!)
I have yet to receive any calls or emails so I’m assuming I won nothing but I am really holding out hope on those dance lessons.
Just kidding. NIGHTMARE.
Finally we reached that point where we were so overwhelmed with people and stimuli and people that we just sort of crashed and had to run for the door.
I also experience this emotion when visiting art museums or shopping at Forever 21.
I’m really glad we went and do think I saw some valuable stuff, but can’t possibly imagine actually going to one of those as an outlet for getting wedding ideas like, right at the beginning. The sheer volume of options and images made my head spin.
Just like Brian and I will spin on the dance floor when we win those tango lessons. Come on, phone, ring, damn it, RING!
Ok, enough. This is already a novel and I’ve barely even scratched the surface. Let us take a look at what (else!) was keeping it awkward this week:
First of all please ignore that pile of cardboard recycling in the corner, I know we need to dispose of that!
Second of all, do take note of the smashed glass on the floor below said microwave. That is the glass tray that came with the microwave, smashed into a zillion little pieces after I knocked it out while removing my microwaveable heating pad because I am 86 years old.
Easy solution: register for a new microwave!
Except: This belongs with the apartment, WHOOPS.
So now I have to track down and purchase a very specific microwave tray lest we lose our security deposit over this.
Luckily I am already pretty skilled in purchasing wholesale kitchen appliance parts thanks to the time I broke a glass shelf in the refrigerator of my first apartment in Brooklyn by dropping a heavy container of leftover Thanksgiving food on it.
Liz Ho: destroying one rental kitchen at a time!
Front runners for the bridesmaids! I will give you a WHOLE long and detailed story about the endless search for bridesmaid dresses, made extra endless by my deep passion for over-thinking and making everything 80 billion times more complicated than necessary but for now, a tiny tale.
Kathleen and I went to Bella Bridesmaid in Midtown on Tuesday night to check out some options (it was a really nice boutique with a pretty great selection and good customer service, just FYI if this applies to you) and while we were looking through the racks with our assigned stylist, we suddenly heard the sound of crying coming from one of the dressing rooms.
And by crying I mean like weeping. Like heaving sobs. Like me watching Les Mis hysterics.
I mean…bridesmaid dress shopping is stressful but…? YIKES pull yourself together, man!
It turns out it may have actually been a staff member crying over some kind of personal life drama which makes me feel a little bad for judging but whatever the reason behind the tears, it does not erase how painfully awkward it was for the three of us to resume rifling through brightly colored chiffon, acting like nothing was amiss, to the soundtrack of violent sobbing.
Also did I make a final decision on bridesmaid dresses yet? Probably! Or not. Just … don’t ask.
I worked out over lunch the other day and when I came back, managed to spill my entire (full!) water bottle on my office floor, right next to a stack of book boxes. I saw the water encroaching on the box of delicate paper books and panicked, looking around the room for some sort of towel with which I might mop up the spill before it ruined our product.
I got the brilliant idea to use my gym clothes BUT I had my fancy stuff that day and they’re all made out of some kind of fancy like, sweat repelling material so they weren’t really absorbing the giant lake I created (thanks for nothing, Under Armor) BUT the dirty underwear I had just worn to workout were, in fact, cotton, so I mopped up the spill with a pair of underwear.
It made complete sense at the time, for some reason, but then I though about it later and remembered that in our office we have both a kitchen AND a bathroom, both of which are resplendent with paper towels, products which are designed for the sole purpose of absorbing liquids.
And instead I used my underpants.
WHAT is wrong with me? So very very VERY many things.
I must have been a clutz-o-rama that day because later that evening, I met Brian at …
This Suit Shop:
My groom and I went out on an expedition to find a suit for him for our wedding and a co-worker recommended this classy place in SoHo called Suit Supply. She assured us they were known for slim cut suits for slim cut fellows and at a good price point.
And she was right! Despite the semi douche vibe of their website (just…ignore those photos) the place was straight up classy and the customer service was outstanding. They helped Brian find a really REALLY good looking suit and suggested some matching options for his groomsmen, recommended shoe stores, tie colors, etc.
Meanwhile I just followed Brian around making lascivious comments about his butt. It was weird. I felt like someone’s creepy sugardaddy (except let’s be real, I’m not paying for this). Like, you always hear stories about rich men taking hot women shopping and then just creepily watching them try on sexy clothes and suddenly I understand the appeal. By the time I half-jokingly but mostly seriously asked Brian to “take off his jacket and sling it over his shoulder like he was in a catalog” I realized I miiiiight be out of control.
But seriously, wedding guests, you’re in for a treat with this suit. That booty is A+!
Oh, and also while I was there they offered me a glass of water and OBVIOUSLY I spilled the entire thing on the floor and almost used my scarf to mop it up before anyone saw but luckily someone stopped me before I ruined yet another piece of clothing doing what a paper towel could do so much better.
Then later, I pulled my wallet out of my pocket to put in the stylist’s business card and dropped a panty liner on the floor right in front of him. Smooth.
Those were the actual points of this story, but then I got sidetracked being creepy about butts.
You know me!
Shut it down, Liz. Shut it down.
And that’s that! What are you guys up to this weekend? I was supposed to go hiking but now it’s going to rain all weekend (don’t even get me started on you, Mother Nature!) so now we’re searching for an indoor urban adventure instead. Any suggestions?
Have the funnest weekend, whatever you do, and if you enter any weird raffles, I sure hope you win!