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On the day of my wedding dress fitting, I texted Chioma Nnadi, my most trusted fashion friend: “Come to Le Meurice at 4 p.m.”
“Omg! Honeymoon before the wedding,” she wrote back. “So cool.”
Up until that point, my wedding planning process had been decidedly low-key. It was always going to be more party than “wedding.” The ceremony would be at New York City Hall, and the reception, as it were, would be dim sum at our favorite Chinese restaurant in Midtown. We emailed fliers in lieu of sending paper invitations, and there would be no flowers; no traditional wedding anything. But the dress had become a bit of a moment.
While my vision for the wedding party was clear, for a long time I had no real sense of what I wanted to wear. As I cast about for ideas, I was introduced to Svitlana Bevza, a Ukrainian fashion designer. She’d helped another friend, Liana Satenstein, create her dream wedding look, which had a very specific brief: a cream suit a la Michelle Pfieffer in Scarface that also made sense for an Orthodox Jewish ceremony. Somehow she got the assignment—and Liana—completely.
After a few WhatsApp messages, we hopped on the phone and started talking through ideas. It was clear she had already done her research, scrolling back through my Instagram to get a sense of my style. Bevza explained that when designing a dress, she wants to capture the woman outside of her wedding day.
“I looked at the outfits that you really love to wear in your life, that you choose by yourself,” Bevza said. “The process of creating is the most exciting part for me.”
Miraculously she landed on an all-time favorite look of mine: a corseted number with, quite literally, a full ballerina skirt and a hint of saloon. (Actually, this vintage dress came from Chioma’s closet.) Bevza envisioned the bodice in luminous ivory satin and the skirt in a playful silk taffeta. Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.
There was only one problem: How would I ever try this perfect dress on? Bevza had no atelier in New York; she was based in London, where she’d relocated after Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, and the idea of just praying on a DHL package wasn’t going to work for me. A month later, I was going to be in Paris for work, so Bevza and I planned to rendezvous for my first—and final—fitting.
Le Meurice is one of those Grande Dame hotels whose roster of famous guests over the last 200 years almost feels made up. Located on Rue de Rivoli and overlooking the Tuileries Garden, the hotel has hosted a long line of royals and royal consorts, from Napoleon’s mistress to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. Artists have also been drawn to its Belle Époque opulence: For 30 years, Salvador Dalí regularly checked into adjoining suites for a month-long stay. (He became such a fixture that the restaurant is now done up in his honor.) And in 1918, Pablo Picasso married Ukrainian dancer Olga Khokhlova in the hotel’s gold leaf-laden banquet hall. Even for the most rarefied creatures, Le Meurice is a place for special occasions—and staying there for a few days with my fiancé this summer made my fitting feel like an engagement party, a bachelorette, and a honeymoon all rolled into one.
The day of the fitting started off sweet: We were served fanciful fruit desserts and a bottle of bubbly. Joel and I took these treats to our balcony, where we had a view of the Louvre on one side and the Eiffel Tower on the other. We clinked our glasses and drank it all in. Then I told him to hurry along—the ladies would be here soon.
The next couple of hours felt like a rom-com montage—a bunch of girls playing, primping, and posing for pictures. Bevza arrived with the dress in a big white box and when we slipped away to try it on, I remember looking at my reflection—framed by the Italian marble in my rather grand bathroom—and thinking, for the first time: Holy shit, I’m getting married.
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As I suspected, it was quite helpful to have Chioma—a proper fashion editor—in the room, asking thoughtful questions about the silhouette and fabric weight as Bevza pinned my shoulders and nipped my waist.
While my dress was one of only a handful of custom Bevza bridal looks, many women have worn her sleek, minimal designs down the aisle. “I never expected this niche of wedding dress [customers],” she said. “I think clients are looking for something that can be very comfortable and timeless.”
She also just happens to make a number of white dresses. “A lot of our clients think of our white evening outfits as bridal,” Bevza said. “Some girls order right from our website—and then later we see the loveliest wedding photos.”
Since I got engaged, the notion of following some kind of bride script has never really appealed to me. But for a few fizzy hours in Paris, I allowed myself to get a little lost in the fantasy of it all. It was romantic and over the top—and I loved every minute of it.
“It felt like a real fitting—it was emotional,” Bevza later said to me. “And that’s what you remember. The wedding and the dress and all the emotions.”
