You know how little kids are sweetest before the tiredness sets in? Then the sweet little angels turn into crabby little monsters until sleep grants blessed relief from the tiredness, crying, and pent up frustration?
That's marshmallow time--the sweet part before the meltdown.
It's amazing how first impressions can be so warped by emotional circumstance.
Earlier, I posted about a bride who, in a single 22 minute phone call where she vented about planning her wedding, I recorded the bridezilla-esque statements she made.
I briefly posted my response to her constant nagging.
Last week, she came with her 4 bridesmaids to get their dresses fit, and it was like a different person walked in the door. Calm, relaxed, understanding, and finally seeing that the tragedy of the euro-greenish-gray* too big** dresses was more palatable with the slight adjustment of exceptions.
She was, dare I say, delightful. It was encouraging to see another side of her.
Fast forward a week--and she's back to the prickly state she was in the first fitting. Again, I am so sorry that you got screwed on your save the dates. I'm sorry you got ripped off on your veil. Hell, I'm sorry that you got the wrong dipping sauce for your chicken nuggets back in 1998. Focus on what we're working to fix.
This wedding party has really made me think. They have all been really difficult and needy, have shown up without setting appointments, and have taken over my home for much longer than necessary.
I am starting to think that this is no longer worth it--the constant appointments, the stress of working extra hours, and mostly the unfair burden that is placed on my husband. He has been so wonderful and selfless when it comes to the constant parade of brides through our living room, but it's starting to become to much.
I love the work. I love meeting with people. I love making a dress into something real and specific for one person. I love the stories.
But I love my husband more.
Maybe marshmallow time for me is over.
*Euro-gray sounds very similar to Earl Grey, which was the actual color of the dress. I can easily see the misunderstanding, but dude. You signed off on it. Read your paperwork.
**Too big is a relative term. When you fit something to a standard size, you need to go with the largest measurements. So someone who wears a size 6 on top but 12 on the bottom will need to order a 12.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
On one hand, I feel terrible.
I need to listen to my instincts. Also, I hate e-mail.
First, there were 3 help me e-mails.
Then there was an appointment. After arriving 10 minutes late for her fitting with her fitting, taking her sweet time trying on her dress, she informs me that she cannot commit to alterations without her mother seeing it.
This is important and I understand completely. The real question is "why did you waste an hour of my time." Was it to complain about a bridal store I have never even heard of much less am affiliated? Sure.
I then get an e-mail saying she is buying another dress. Based on her reaction last week, I think she's making the right move.
Also, an e-mail asking if she can set up an appointment for bridesmaid A. Also with complains about how the aforementioned bridal store ordered the wrong dress/color/size/etc.
Another asking if she could set up one for B, C, and D.
Another asking if they have appointments scheduled. (By the way, did you know this bridal store is evil?)
Another asking why.
And then:
"I hope you can keep them all at $xx.xx with the exception of the purple and V's since she's a student. I hope you understand this was all so unexpected to us and I cannot understand why they ordered the dresses so big. Once more thank you."
The most frustrating alteration is one where the bride, bridesmaid, etc. hates the dress from the start. Sometimes it's a fit issue. Sometime it's wrong color. Sometimes it's the dress that your younger, prettier friend has chosen that is absolutely the wrong shape for your body, a terrible color, and makes you feel old, fat, and extra single.
I am not proud of my reply. Also, it was a schooch cold.
"I will do my best to keep them all at $x. I am sorry you had a bad experience with the bridal shop. However, I need to remind you that I am in no way affiliated with them and cannot be held financially responsible for their mistake. I will do my best to keep costs down; however, I need to be paid for the work I do."
I am not very proud of this reply, and I feel terrible that it was worded in a way that my original intention (a heads up that I will do my best to keep costs down and a reminder that I am not affiliated with the evil store) was misinterpreted as an attack on her intention to pay. For that, I feel terrible.
However, I also have no regrets about explaining the pricing and reminding her I am not the bad guy. Maybe this week has left me a little cold hearted, but I am not willing to lower my fee because save the dates were too expensive.
I also can't figure out why I'm posting something that makes me feel so terrible. Is it because the week as a whole has been awful? Will writing it make it more real? Will I be proud to have said what I think is right or regret this?
Instincts, next time you need to connect with my backbone and not the softhearted side. I'll consider this post a small step.
First, there were 3 help me e-mails.
Then there was an appointment. After arriving 10 minutes late for her fitting with her fitting, taking her sweet time trying on her dress, she informs me that she cannot commit to alterations without her mother seeing it.
This is important and I understand completely. The real question is "why did you waste an hour of my time." Was it to complain about a bridal store I have never even heard of much less am affiliated? Sure.
I then get an e-mail saying she is buying another dress. Based on her reaction last week, I think she's making the right move.
Also, an e-mail asking if she can set up an appointment for bridesmaid A. Also with complains about how the aforementioned bridal store ordered the wrong dress/color/size/etc.
Another asking if she could set up one for B, C, and D.
Another asking if they have appointments scheduled. (By the way, did you know this bridal store is evil?)
Another asking why.
And then:
"I hope you can keep them all at $xx.xx with the exception of the purple and V's since she's a student. I hope you understand this was all so unexpected to us and I cannot understand why they ordered the dresses so big. Once more thank you."
The most frustrating alteration is one where the bride, bridesmaid, etc. hates the dress from the start. Sometimes it's a fit issue. Sometime it's wrong color. Sometimes it's the dress that your younger, prettier friend has chosen that is absolutely the wrong shape for your body, a terrible color, and makes you feel old, fat, and extra single.
I am not proud of my reply. Also, it was a schooch cold.
"I will do my best to keep them all at $x. I am sorry you had a bad experience with the bridal shop. However, I need to remind you that I am in no way affiliated with them and cannot be held financially responsible for their mistake. I will do my best to keep costs down; however, I need to be paid for the work I do."
I am not very proud of this reply, and I feel terrible that it was worded in a way that my original intention (a heads up that I will do my best to keep costs down and a reminder that I am not affiliated with the evil store) was misinterpreted as an attack on her intention to pay. For that, I feel terrible.
However, I also have no regrets about explaining the pricing and reminding her I am not the bad guy. Maybe this week has left me a little cold hearted, but I am not willing to lower my fee because save the dates were too expensive.
I also can't figure out why I'm posting something that makes me feel so terrible. Is it because the week as a whole has been awful? Will writing it make it more real? Will I be proud to have said what I think is right or regret this?
Instincts, next time you need to connect with my backbone and not the softhearted side. I'll consider this post a small step.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
The Dog Peed on the Dress
At the appointed hour, I listen.
I listen closely for the usual sounds. A car pull up. A door slam. A second door. Do I go outside and greet them immediately? Do I allow them time to gather themselves and greet them as they approach, or does my doorbell need a workout? I wait.
The normal amount of time it takes to approach passes. Curious, I decide to brave the “cold” (50 degrees at night is cold when a coat is not an option). I find the trio still at the hatchback of an SUV, two inside and one outside. I greet the matron of honor, who is standing outside with a look that can only be described as a cross between horror and sheer amusement.
She leans over and whispers to me, “The dog peed on the dress."
More accurately, the tiny, deer-faced chihuahua puppy dog peed on the plastic garment bag that was over the plastic bag that held the dress. The poor thing sat there, shaking like a quivering aspen in the summertime, terrified of the dark or the cold or unfamiliarity of the place. Nothing but 25 minutes of sheer coddling could calm her down to a baseline state of nervous.
Some would say the puppy peed out of fear. To others, the puppy was expressing her of sheer dislike of being drug out of the warm house on a Tuesday night when a brand new episode of the Voice was on.
I think we all know the truth.
I listen closely for the usual sounds. A car pull up. A door slam. A second door. Do I go outside and greet them immediately? Do I allow them time to gather themselves and greet them as they approach, or does my doorbell need a workout? I wait.
The normal amount of time it takes to approach passes. Curious, I decide to brave the “cold” (50 degrees at night is cold when a coat is not an option). I find the trio still at the hatchback of an SUV, two inside and one outside. I greet the matron of honor, who is standing outside with a look that can only be described as a cross between horror and sheer amusement.
She leans over and whispers to me, “The dog peed on the dress."
More accurately, the tiny, deer-faced chihuahua puppy dog peed on the plastic garment bag that was over the plastic bag that held the dress. The poor thing sat there, shaking like a quivering aspen in the summertime, terrified of the dark or the cold or unfamiliarity of the place. Nothing but 25 minutes of sheer coddling could calm her down to a baseline state of nervous.
Some would say the puppy peed out of fear. To others, the puppy was expressing her of sheer dislike of being drug out of the warm house on a Tuesday night when a brand new episode of the Voice was on.
I think we all know the truth.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Pure Comic Gold
I received no fewer than three phone calls and four emails from a bride today. Her last call consisted of a 21 minute tirade about the terrible service she received from a bridal store in town who not only screwed up her dress order but also her save the date cards.
I personally am dying to know which bridal store specializes in dresses AND paper goods.
The conversation included the following phrases:
"Doesn't she know save the date cards should never have the location? Everyone knows that!"
"She ordered $300 worth of save the dates without asking! I don't have that kind of money!"
"She never ordered fabric for my sleeves. I need my princess sleeves!"
"My wedding is supposed to be aubergine and charcoal, and the dresses showed up eggplant. Eggplant!"
"She wouldn't even turn on the lights and sent me out with a fabric swatch that was more green than gray!"
"I'm only planning the most important day of my life!"
"What kind of person purposely ruins other people's lives like this!"
Poor girl.
On one hand my instincts say "Run! Run as fast as you can!" On the other, the poor girl just needs someone to talk her down from the ledge. I'm taking my chances on this one.
Hopefully the dramatic wailing will subside by Thursday.
I personally am dying to know which bridal store specializes in dresses AND paper goods.
The conversation included the following phrases:
"Doesn't she know save the date cards should never have the location? Everyone knows that!"
"She ordered $300 worth of save the dates without asking! I don't have that kind of money!"
"She never ordered fabric for my sleeves. I need my princess sleeves!"
"My wedding is supposed to be aubergine and charcoal, and the dresses showed up eggplant. Eggplant!"
"She wouldn't even turn on the lights and sent me out with a fabric swatch that was more green than gray!"
"I'm only planning the most important day of my life!"
"What kind of person purposely ruins other people's lives like this!"
Poor girl.
On one hand my instincts say "Run! Run as fast as you can!" On the other, the poor girl just needs someone to talk her down from the ledge. I'm taking my chances on this one.
Hopefully the dramatic wailing will subside by Thursday.
What Your Mother Doesn't Know...
Saturday, I had a mother of the bride pick up some alterations a week after her daughter's wedding. I had worked with the family through the pre-wedding period, altering several suits, bridesmaid dresses, mother of the bride dress, and the wedding gown.
She excitedly showed me pictures of the big weekend, including pictures from the mani/pedi party the night before the wedding. One picture she showed me me was of her daughter, the bride, pulling out a bottle of sparkling cider with a label on in proclaiming "Baby V due in August!"
The mother of the bride said she almost dropped her phone. Her daughter's pregnancy was a complete (and happy!) suprise for her.
Not for me. The now Mrs. V had shared that with me in her first fitting about 7 weeks ago, just 2 days after she had found out she was expecting. Ironically, this is not the first time someone has confided this secret to me. It is one of the best perks of the job, and a perk that comes my way often. I have quite a well known knack for maternity alterations.
There is something really special about knowing a happy secret about a stranger, and it is doubly wonderful hearing the happiness from both sides.
She excitedly showed me pictures of the big weekend, including pictures from the mani/pedi party the night before the wedding. One picture she showed me me was of her daughter, the bride, pulling out a bottle of sparkling cider with a label on in proclaiming "Baby V due in August!"
The mother of the bride said she almost dropped her phone. Her daughter's pregnancy was a complete (and happy!) suprise for her.
Not for me. The now Mrs. V had shared that with me in her first fitting about 7 weeks ago, just 2 days after she had found out she was expecting. Ironically, this is not the first time someone has confided this secret to me. It is one of the best perks of the job, and a perk that comes my way often. I have quite a well known knack for maternity alterations.
There is something really special about knowing a happy secret about a stranger, and it is doubly wonderful hearing the happiness from both sides.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Holy Cow!
The school year is in full swing, and a certain production of "Click Clack Moo: Cows that Type" is scheduled to hit the road in less than one month.
I love designing clothing for children's theatre. During the dark, dank days of winter when the thought of taking your wedding portraits under a heavy, wet canopy of clouds turns many a bride from scheduling that February* wedding, making costumes for light, happy tap dancing cows and prissy opera diva chickens lights up the dreariness.
Here is a preview of my designs and fabric. Check back for updates on the construction process and learn how one makes a chicken polonaise. At the very least, my way of making a chicken polonaise.
*that's right. Screw you, Valentines Day. I don't care if you're romantic. You are not picturesque.)
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Paid in Pancakes
Earlier this summer I altered a dress for a lovely older woman who was celebrating her 50th wedding anniversary. I'm a sucker for stories, and hers really touched my heart.
She told me about how she and her husband had been through so much together, especially in the last 10 years--the tragic death of their adult son, her battle with breast cancer, her husband's battle with diabetes that had made him wheelchair bound, and all the financial struggles that came along with it. She was nearly in tears when she told me how much it meant to her that they had made it to this milestone.
She had me tearing up right along with her in the fitting. When it came to discussing the cost of the alterations, I couldn't help but offer to do them at no cost to her.
It merely cost me my time. Don't get me wrong--my time is very valuable. In this case, however, the kindness I was able to offer was worth so much more.
I received a kind card in the mail a few days later from her thanking me profusely. Inside, she included a gift certificate to a waffle house ( mind you, not THE Waffle House--I'll have to wait until my next trip out East.) I still get a little misty eyed thinking about it.
Today, on my husband and my first anniversary, we were able to take advantage of her kindness. Best damn pancakes ever. Seriously.
Oh, and the warm and fuzzy feeling that this story fills me with isn't so bad either.
She told me about how she and her husband had been through so much together, especially in the last 10 years--the tragic death of their adult son, her battle with breast cancer, her husband's battle with diabetes that had made him wheelchair bound, and all the financial struggles that came along with it. She was nearly in tears when she told me how much it meant to her that they had made it to this milestone.
She had me tearing up right along with her in the fitting. When it came to discussing the cost of the alterations, I couldn't help but offer to do them at no cost to her.
It merely cost me my time. Don't get me wrong--my time is very valuable. In this case, however, the kindness I was able to offer was worth so much more.
I received a kind card in the mail a few days later from her thanking me profusely. Inside, she included a gift certificate to a waffle house ( mind you, not THE Waffle House--I'll have to wait until my next trip out East.) I still get a little misty eyed thinking about it.
Today, on my husband and my first anniversary, we were able to take advantage of her kindness. Best damn pancakes ever. Seriously.
Oh, and the warm and fuzzy feeling that this story fills me with isn't so bad either.
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