This is one of them (from ModCloth):
It is called the Swan Cloud Dress in Blue. For some reason this name is very appealing (and amusing) to me. You see, when I hear the word "swan" I immediately think of, well, a lot of things.
First, there's that crazy-weird dress that Bjork wore to the Oscars all those years ago, made of white feathers and with a swan attached at her hip. If you don't know what I mean, go ahead and google it.
Then there's the stunningly lovely song C'est La Mort by The Civil Wars. My dearest sister tells me that my dearest brother-in-law has a tendency to sing Swan dive down 11 stories high without completing the lyric, which just makes the whole thing sound rather morbid. So when I hear the word swan, I too want to start singing that phrase.
Then, of course, there's that whole ugly duckling thing. I won't go into my issues -- wait, yes I will, because this entire blog is about my "issues." I'll sum it up concisely for you, though. I know you've got better things to do this day than hover in my corner of the internet.
It's a fact that I am flattered to have been asked to be Darling Lindsey's maid of honor, but I've also been kind of flipping out over it. I am the oldest in the wedding, and while I am just 26, trust me, that can feel like ancient dirt when I consider, and keep considering, that I used to babysit this particular bride. How strange that is.
I also must give the proverbial Maid of Honor toast and this terrifies me. I know I will cry. And not remember a single thing that I said. (I remember nothing of what I spoke at my sister's wedding, and yes, I cried then too. Have I ever mentioned that I do not like crying in public? I don't. Yet here I am, gearing up to do it again. I believe this is why they invented waterproof mascara.)
All this being said, I have learned something. A good dress, the right dress, can solve a host of problems. Including, but not limited to, feeling like the Granny of the wedding party. Oh, I'm still terrified of the speech (and yes, as a writer, I have begun my first of a hundred drafts), but I survived once before, and will undoubtedly live to see the end of that night.
At least, I hope so. I want to live to wear this dress again!
