Afred Angelo in Huntington beach had pretty underwear for under the dress. No giant padded boobs this time or sweating in a ridiculous Spanx slip.
Looks like a wedding getup all by itself, yes?:
I wanted to try on the two colored dresses that I mentioned in my previous post.
They were OK. I think I still like the dress Giraffy and I tried on at David's Bridal more, but I find it really hard to dislike any wedding dress. They are all so incredibly white, shiny, beady, and sequen-y.
If I was smarter, I'd have done up my make up and hair.
But, even without, when the dress shop lady grabbed the dress behind, and bunched it up in the back to draw in my waist, to match my wrists, and held me up in the front the mirror, kinda like a puppet, I felt all types of pretty.
Couldn't breath or anything, but who needs oxygen when you're wearing a pretty beaded veil (her idea, she was pretty good at this playing dress up thing).
And then. THEN. At a Huntington Beach Goodwill (I'm so weak). There was this:
Jesse played horrified, pretended he didn't know me, and babbled a lot about "awful", "ugly", and "80's". But, he's a little confused.
Granted, the dress was a bit torn up at the bottom, the tulle, and stuff. But, did you see the beads??!
I tend to shop by colors and textures. I kind of want this dress, to take home, cut shorter, dip in a purple dye bath, and wear out. Until I get tired of the ballerina look, and then I can cut the skirt off entirely and rock the beaded tube top thingy. Either under a blazer or alone. I'm feeling warm just talking about it.
Unfortunately, it was $99. Which was steep, even for Goodwill.
Anyway. On the way out the door (most ungracefully, and kinda pouty), I used an opportunity to encounter and harrass the store manager, who waved his hand towards the back the store (and my wedding dress) and said I can have it for $50. Had it not been for Jesse's side eyeing me, I could have hung around a little longer and whittle it down to something more acceptable, like, $10. They really need to develop a larger books section so the men may be entertained longer while their girlfriends ambush store employees for discounts. Which, reminds me, it's time for my weekly phonecall to Debbie's Dumpster to see if they wanna sell me their 'display' dress form yet. 87th time might be the charm.