Today, just shy of our one-year anniversary, I have decided to run my wedding dress through the washer.  (It’s not that I was fond of those underarm sweat-stains; I just forgot about them, stuck way back in the closet as they were.)

I saw a photo of this dress last spring on a runway model, in a Banana Republic look book, and waited SO impatiently for it to come out, calling reps and checking the BR website at least once a day for a month.  It was just so pretty I wasn’t sure it would come to the working class.  Seemed conceivable that it would be reserved for the Southern Californians, or somesuch.  In fact, however, no.  It came out, and it fit me, and I got it.  Katie Gray buttoned up the back in a Banana Republic dressing room in the Green Hills mall, Memorial Day weekend.  We had a moment, one of those you hear about.

It’s possibly the prettiest dress I’ve ever owned, and I feel nymphlike in it.  An unconventional wedding dress, in that it’s just a summer patio dress, cotton, with thin straps and an ankle-length hem, no poofiness or beads or chiffon—it’s not even sexy.  Which I was totally willing to overlook on account of its slenderness, its gloriously wide eyelet lace hem, and the fact that it put me in mind of wildflowers—white fleabane, white cosmos, chervil, and Queen Anne’s lace.

Since I’ll be out of town (Seattle!) on our anniversary, we’re going to celebrate it this weekend … and whatever it is we decide to do, I will be wearing that dress.  If we camp in North Carolina, which I think is the tentative plan, then I will make Marshall take pictures of me in it on the bald.

In honor of the dress and what I hope will be a safe journey through the wash, here is a picture of me in it at this time last year: Natalie took it:

And here is one of the shoes that are lost & gone forever:

And here is the glamour shot.  Ha!  Check it out.  I look like this about 0.0000000000000000145% of the time.  What an awesome thing that Natalie was able to BE THERE, with a CAMERA! for this fifteen-times-in-a-lifetime moment of glamourishness!  Or maybe it’s not as awesome as I think and I’m embarrassing myself.  Whatever.  I reserve the right (as always, Josh Casada) to edit this paragraph if I come back tomorrow and feel as if I’ve been too effusive.

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