My daughter, Sara, made this proclamation during one of our daily wedding discussions. I liked it so much I decided to use it in today’s blog.
She’s pretty sure of the color she wants for the bridesmaids’ dresses–for now. Since I love it too, I’m not trying to alter her decision when I repeatedly say, “Yes, that’s fine, but since I haven’t even started making them, you really can’t be sure what color you’ll end up with.”
In response, she sighs and rolls her eyes. (I know she’s doing this even though we’re communicating by phone. After all I am her mother.) “Mom, that’s the color I want! I’ve already decided.”
Now it’s my turn to sigh and roll my eyes, although I think I’m giving her more of a “skyward look” as my mother used to call it. “Yes, I know that’s what you think you want and I repeat: I’m not suggesting you change your mind.” (This last phrase is said in the robotic voice I instinctively use when I’m tired of saying the same thing over and over to a pair of deaf ears.) You know it’s my favorite color. In fact, remember back in the day when you complained that I always picked that color and it was sooooo boring?” We share a chuckle over her adolescent frustrations with a mother who was as uncool as the color she loved.
I continue. “I’m simply reminding you that once we’re in fabric heaven (aka New York City’s fabric district), who knows what to-die-for stuff we’ll find?” I don’t hear any sighing, but I’m sure her eyes are circling faster than a roulette wheel.
Dropping the topic of hue, we switch our focus to invitations and place cards. I tell her I’ll be fine with whatever she picks, adding that I don’t even need to be consulted. This isn’t a passive/aggressive ploy; I don’t need to have a hand in every decision. Getting to make the wedding gown and bridesmaids’ dresses is gratification enough. However, this doesn’t stop me from offering the opinion that cream stock and black ink is classy and timeless, and that I’m not a fan of introducing the bridesmaids’ color into the design. That suggestion apparently gives her something new to stress about. “What are my colors?” she asks, followed quickly by, “Where do I use these colors?” and then, “Do I have to have colors?”
I explain that a bride chooses her favorite color and then introduces it into as much or as little of her wedding scheme as she wants to. It’s certainly the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses and often the predominant hue of the centerpieces.
I watch all the wedding shows: Four Weddings, Whose Wedding Is It?, Rich Bride, Poor Bride, etc. Some of these divas take the “my color” concept to a frightening level; bathing the room in pink—or purple—or green and adding it to their centerpieces, bouquets, ice sculptures, napkins and linens. Some couples even serve their own signature purple/pink/green cocktail. Perspiration dots her forehead as she scribbles one more item on her to-do list. (No, I can’t see the sweat, but I know it’s there.)
I remind her again, that she doesn’t really have a color yet; NOT UNTIL WE PURCHASE THE FABRIC. (Louder robot voice.)To quell her rising panic, I break the happy news–in my normal voice, “You don’t have to have a color. In fact, you don’t have to do anything you and Dave don’t want to do. It’s your wedding.” (I can be altruistic. I know she won’t deviate far from our shared dream of The Perfect Wedding. Remember; we’ve already checked off “castle” and “princess”.)
(Rush of expelled breath.) She relaxes and replies, “You’re right; I don’t need a color to define my style!” Truer words were never spoken. Sara has a style all her own; a style so vibrant, a tropical garden would pale in comparison.