I came back from my flippy-floppy vacation on the Illinois River with Daddy and Blake. I had many hillbilly moments. I accomplished feathering myself with five kinds of dog hair as part of my beach outfit, fell asleep with my face buried under Wills and Trust on a speed boat, and featured Asian carps in my dreams as they vigorously banged themselves against the boat at night.
All in all, everyone harvested good memories: daddy got to eat hearty Midwestern steak, Blake got to completely block me out of his fantasy Foundation world, and I got to roll on the boundless super king-size bed in true ecstasy.
Then I came home, nervous to find out that I had two items awaiting. One was a citation ticket for not displaying my parking permit. The other was a package notice in my mailbox.
The ticket turned out to be a false alarm. But the package was just the beginning of a social experiment, a psychological warfare.
Dare you buy a wedding dress on Ebay?
For me, the apparent answer is yes, against all odds and skeptics. I am ruthless about the budget, which ironically I have no idea of how much or how little. But I love a firm handshake of camaraderie after a fierce and show-no-mercy bargain. When Blake saw me grinning sheepishly or attempting to make out an awkward puppy face, he knew that I was concocting wacky shenanigans, which always include driving wedding cost to rock bottom, the sweat-shop style.
My grand wedding scheme entails:
People, bring your own desert to the reception.
Also chair cover.
And write yourself a custom-design invitation.
And don't forget to prepare a show-worthy talent. Don't invite yourself if you haven't already got one.
. . .
Oops, I digressed, as usual. So, back to the gist of this post. I first discovered the BCBG bridal series a couple months ago in my usual habit of wee hour online-shopping. I was exploding with joy when I found out that a number of gowns were a part of the annual sale. So I sent links of potential dresses to Mommy, whose concise and insightful feedback ("ugly" "clown" "wrong" "manly") helped me eliminate all but one.
But I did have some issues with the survivor of my mom's firing squad ("survivor dress"): it had a deep-V cut in the back. Maybe I should wear a Winnie the Pooh shirt underneath to add some wholesomeness?
Regardless, the survivor dress was $124. After weeks of patience, I welcomed the Fourth of July with a further discount of 20% and holiday free shipping. I was only a click away from placing the order (and getting done with the gown-shopping), except that I was completely clueless about my size. I shuddered at the fine print:"no return for all final sales."
I dragged Blake to the only BCBG store in town. I shamelessly tried on every single cocktail and full-length gown and a number of unrelated items that I could find on the rack (pant suit and pencil skirt for wedding anyone?). Three hours later, I emerged out of the store triumphantly, empty-handed yet with a renewed understanding of my measurement inside and out. Blake, for some reason, was tilting his hat to the side and rushing out of the store in an uncharacteristically fast strut.
Meanwhile, I killed the survivor dress in my mind, partly because having a Winnie the Pooh dipping his finger in the honey jar and smiling through my back was slightly disturbing, and partly because I did not see the gown in the store to test my theory. However, I did find a replacement. In my prolonged changing/searching/self-appreciating session, I accidentally tried on a dress that was quite decent. In my dictionary, "quite decent" is defined as "actually very nice but with an unholy price tag."
Too bad.
But I have always been a woman of virtue: a patient, persevered, impulsive, and tenacious shopper. Recently, I had claimed and returned my bounty from Urban Outfitters' sale massacres (ask Blake for funny stories). And here I am again, who must be a Chinese offshoot of the Amazon wonder woman, lurking on Ebay for months and shooting competing bidders with my lethal stare.
If Ebay is a battlefield, then I have to be a sniper-in-training. I passed the security (such a pain to link my account to Paypal!), evaluated the enemy's supply (plenty of reviews to read!), calculated the risk of casualty (ugh...no return, bummer!), and waited for an ambush (WHERE ARE YOU MY PERFECTLY CHEAP DRESS?!!!).
Finally a week ago, I found the dress (called BCBG Matilde), studied the sellers, waited for the right timing, and snatched the last one in stock.
My heart was racing and my head was spinning. Man, I did not know Ebaying could be so nerve-wrecking. It happened so fast, just like a dream. I need an oxygen mask next time.
Now, I am holding the dress close to my chest, flaunting my first-and-will-never-be-the-last Ebay purchase to Blake and Daddy. I am deeply grateful that I no longer need to join those Dash to Your Dress sales and become an inevitable victim of bridal violence.
Frankly I need no fancy dress to impress anyone. Blake, in his absent-minded eyes, would always call me beautiful even if I wrap myself in bed linen and show up with an enormous cow lick.
But I still need a good deal to make the frugalista in me happy.
Then I got an anxious text message from Mommy.
"Did you nail it? Is the seller a crook?"
No comments:
Post a Comment