With this in mind, I tried the Say Yes To The Dress approach, bringing an entourage consisting of my mother and grandmother to a small, pretty boutique in Norfolk for my first stab at dress shopping. I felt more like I was in an episode of Toddlers & Tiaras as my post-lockdown weight was kneaded and folded into boulangeries of puffed-up tulle (and not in a chic, Molly Goddard way). Tears of what I hoped was pride rose in my mother’s eyes as I stepped into the princess gowns of her dreams, tainting my decision on what I actually liked or wanted. The one dress I did enjoy – an LA-style, bohem, nude-illusion number with sequin hummingbirds hovering over the tits – received an immediate no from Grandma with a ‘what would your late grandad have said?’ kind of glare.
I adored this glare, and my mother’s tears, as much as the next kid with mummy issues. I was overcome with a feeling of luckiness that I had them both to experience this with. I came close to dropping £2,000 on a dress I didn’t really like (and couldn’t afford), if only to memorialise the occasion with three generations of women whom I love and am unendingly grateful to.
