My best friend, Ellen, officially asked me to be her bridesmaid before she had a ring on her finger. The proposal happened 10 minutes before she propositioned me over FaceTime, but she was yet to choose the diamond. I said yes as quickly as she had, of course.
We’ve always been those friends that talked about our wedding days, and her desire to have representatives from her time at school, at college (me!), at university, and from her career by her side was always clear. Bridesmaids, and lots of them, were always going to be part of the equation. She might have changed her mind about suitors, cake pops (remember those?), and roses versus peonies, but she never wavered when it came to having her girl gang around her, nor about getting married in Emilia Wickstead—which she did a few weeks ago, on May 20.
Ellen chose her dress quickly and feverishly, delighted that a ready-to-wear style would be made in bridal ivory. Her vision was for something that felt a little vintage, but also clean, simple, and understated. The search for what she wanted for her six bridesmaids, on the other hand, wasn’t so straightforward.
In recent years, “matchy-matchy” dresses for adult bridesmaids have become less common, giving way to a trend for coordinating or even clashing dresses suited to each person. But Ellen had seen a vintage photograph of girls in matching looks that she absolutely loved, so we started browsing for a single dress that would work for all six of us. I can’t stress enough how grateful I am that she placed importance on her bridesmaids liking what we wore on the day, too – something that we felt comfortable being photographed in, and might even wear again in the future.
It turns out that trying to find a dress that flatters six different people is a challenge. Some were just too bridesmaid-y. Satin slips were off the menu from the get-go, as was anything that would be ruined by a single raindrop. By then, we knew the wedding would be in our native Gower, and growing up in Wales had taught us a thing or two about which fabrics are a no-go in damp climes. One that looked perfect online was far too casual in reality, while another would have simply been too much next to the bride’s sleek gown. At one point, Ellen bought a vintage Vogue pattern off of Etsy with the idea of having them made from scratch.
Then, one day, we found it: a blue floral brocade A-line style with a full swishing skirt and a natty corseted waist. I tried it on and felt great. But, as the photographs of the five other girls wearing their dresses arrived in our WhatsApp group, so did a keen awareness that I’d be subject to a like-for-like comparison (even if only in my own mind). I stopped myself from zooming in obsessively to compare how it fit them with how it fit me. It stung a little when some needed to swap for smaller sizes, while I had to size up. The number on a label never usually bothers me, but this brought my insecurities to the fore.
I knew I couldn’t be unhappy about it. Ellen had chosen the best bridesmaid dress possible for me. It was a design akin to my usual wedding guest choices. And yet I worried that the matching styles would lead me down a spiral of self-loathing, and that I would ruin this special occasion for myself. I didn’t imagine anyone else would be preoccupied with how I looked, but I’ve always been my fiercest, most unrelenting critic. As someone who writes about clothes for a living, and who thinks about fashion more or less 24/7, I’ve long relished and over-thought the act of getting dressed. Clothes are my armor, a means of self-expression and a source of pleasure, but this was a different story.
The wedding day soon came. As we slipped into our dresses, zipping each other in, fluffing skirts and aligning straps, my worries completely vanished—replaced instead by a sweetly collegiate feeling of togetherness. After all, the dress wasn’t the only thing we had in common at that moment; there was also a desire to ensure that everything went perfectly, and that Ellen’s vision was executed as brilliantly as possible.
As the day wore on, my worries wore off. I actually enjoyed the feeling of matching my fellow bridesmaids, easily identifiable among the wedding guests as Ellen’s nearest and dearest—a title we wore with pride. By the time the first dance was over and I had a moment to myself, I had a realization.
Wearing this dress offered me much more than sentimental memories and perfect photographs. It helped me understand that there is more to communicating who I am—my values and my personality—than the frothy Molly Goddard skirts I love. Clothes, dresses, shoes, bags, and other accessories are my greatest loves, but they’re not the reason that my friends and family love me. I know now that I offer more than being the (only) one in the pretty dress. That being said, I’m not planning on coordinating twinning moments with my friends anytime soon.