The Last Time I Wore My Wedding Dress
Silk, seratonin and the "bridal blues".
Two weeks ago, I stood in my high school bedroom putting away my wedding dress. I placed it in the same closet that once hung my first homecoming dress, my first button down blouses for interviews and internships, my traditional Lithuanian dance outfit and both of my high school and college graduation gowns. An archive of garments that hold so much. So of course, I started to cry. I started to grieve something that felt so silly to grieve. Was it because I only wore the dress one single day? (essentially, besides fittings). Partially, yes.
I mean, I know I’ll do something with it one day — reincarnate it somehow. A version of it that can be brought into the everyday world again. My mother did the same — she wore a gleaming teal dress that she had made into three seperate blouses. But taking the time to hang it up and put it away, signaled to me that the day and the whole process of the wedding was over — really over.
On the day-of, I tried to keep it on as long as possible. I decided I would only change when it was time for the afterparty — so I could feel more comfortable after dinner. When I finally had to take off the dress at the end of the night, it felt like the air got knocked out of me. Right before the afterparty, when we were arriving at the location, I realized it was time and I couldn’t put it off any longer. I felt sweaty, sticky and it was almost 11 p.m. And I looked down at my dress and felt like crying then and there.
My best friend — who also helped get me into the dress, helped me in the bathroom as I wriggled out of it and assisted me in gently hanging it up. I could’ve probably figured it out myself. But I just couldn’t do it. When she arrived, my voice almost cracked as I asked her, “Can you help me out of this?” I didn’t want to drag it out any longer. At that point, I just wanted to get back to that that warm room with the echoes and laughter of people I love. In a way it felt good — that all the joy and warmth didn’t condense into the dress. It was all around me at the end of the night.
People have joked that I should just wear it on a random day. Just because! And while I’m a huge proponent of enjoying things that are often saved for special occassions, I can’t seem to feel excited about that prospect. It would feel oddly sad to put it on again, just yet. It doesn’t mean I never will, but it’s like I need to find a good reason again. But maybe I’m going against my own advice — wear things in! Don’t wait around! But for goodness sake, it’s my wedding dress. So instead, it’s hanging in my closet — waiting for its next task.
The last month or so I’ve been trying to wake myself out of of this blurry, wedding haze, which was so lovely to be in. There aren’t any other words but the simple ones to describe my wedding day. Perfect. Dreamy. Just right. I was high on my own supply of dopamine — delusionally happy, surrounded by love, drowning in happy tears. The following days, for understandable reasons, felt like I was outside my body. And I don’t write this to sound ungrateful or negative, but I can’t help but talk about the emotional rollercoaster I went through the following week.
Bridal blues. It’s really the perfect term for it. You feel this immense high, one that you’ve been waiting for and planning for so long. And then before you know it, you’re packing your dress away and sending thank you cards. That level of joy in one day — does it short circuit the system? Does it mess with your sense of self?
It’s a weird thing to put into words but it’s true, especialy while being a bride-to-be and a bride. Once you put the white dress on, it’s hard think of yourself as you — you’re more embellished, you’re a precious jewel in some kind of way. You feel cared for, looked after, fussed over. I won’t lie, it was nice and I hope every woman gets to experience this feeling — whether it’s on their wedding day or not. I have no complaints of it. And when I came out of this caccoon of silk and seratonin, I felt like I did walk through some kind of transitional phase that I still can’t pinpoint.
But like I said, the joy was still there even without the dress. Waiting in the other room.
Along with alotting plenty of time to prance around in your dress, I also reccomend any bride to be to schedule some meditative time alone. It’s a must! In the morning, in the evening, whatever it may be. The day-of is often a monsoon of chaos and people and movement. But give yourself a moment or two to be still and alone with yourself. 20 minutes before the ceremony, I sat in my car with the air conditioner blasting. I had reclined the passenger seat back as far as it would go and one of my best friends put her cardigan on the window to hide me from onlookers and arriving guests.
It was funny, really. I felt protected like some kind of precious doll held up for auction. That makes it sound impersonal but it just made me laugh in the moment and still does. A wedding has so many theatrical aspects to it! These moments of suspense beforehand, waiting for the moment the door will open and my someone says, “We’re ready for you.” The lead up to the first look with Evan and getting to see everyone for the first time and them seeing us. Besides the vows and the first kiss, there’s so much romance in those preparatory moments. In a way, they reminded me of waiting behind the curtain during a high school play. “If you can see the audience, they can see you,” my theater teacher would always say.
It was the first 20 minutes I had alone (besides sleeping) in the last week or so. Not a bad thing, but just a thing that impacted my brain and emotions in a way that these thing tend to do. So I relished that moment. I reclined back, in my dress, letting it spread out, letting my hair flow in the cool air. I didn’t feel any need to rush or think about what is next — it was all laid out. All I could do is feel giddy about the buildup, thrilled by the suspense.
I stared at the trees in front of me — they continued to sway along like they probably did the day before and the day before that. It gave me comfort, these trees and how they represented the magical, yet mundane moments ahead of me. A day as magical and huge as a wedding can make you feel like nothing will ever beat it. And in a way, sure. But as much as it’s good to enjoy those extra special, celebratory days with your whole heart, you should also make peace with the days that make you feel content. The days that frame those celebrations and provide the foundation for it all.
Those same trees will keep on swaying in the wind even after I’m out of my wedding dress. Even after the photographer has gone home and the speeches have ended. In a way, they showed me my past and future, while also letting me stay in the present. They reminded me that on the other side of the preperations, the dress fittings, all of it, there will be something even more special waiting for me.
Phew, it’s been a while since I’ve posted! I’m excited to get back on a semi-regular schedule. But let’s catch up:
A couple months back, I had the pleasure of writing a guest post for Kitty Guo’s newsletter
where I share some of my favorite and vibrant things I’ve been eyeing lately. It was a joy to write and got me re-inspired to do more issues of The Browse where I share some recent shopping muses.I’m starting an advice column called Mirror Talk! You can submit your questions and ponderings by sending me an email at arbela.thechangingroom@gmail.com or by DM-ing me on Substack here:
I’ll be relaunching my podcast with more episodes pretty soon — and by soon I mean, definitely BEFORE the end of 2024. I also have some stunning and fun visuals to go with them, which I’m super excited to share! So stay tuned.
Thank you for reading and being here!!! Again, sorry for the long break but I’m back and ready to keep yapping and sharing with you all.
Yours,
Arbela 💋