It's only been three months since our rustic, ranch affair, but I think I might be ready to say goodbye. No, not to you, Hive, and certainly not to Mr. Cowboy Boot, but to Julianna, my beloved, floating pool of ivory tulle. She originally came into my life in the Beverly Hills Saks Fifth Avenue and made me tingle, flit, and giggle like a school girl.
I love her and adore her, but alas, she hangs there so lonesome and without any future plans in sight. In fact, I don't really want to wear her again for fear of shaking off the significance of her debut.
It's hard to write this and face letting go of The Most Beautiful Dress I've Ever Owned. I feel like a little girl releasing her mother's hand on the first day of Kindergarten--the separation anxiety is tangible.
The reality is that my dress, by Christos, has been documented in the most meaningful way on my wedding day and nothing can change that. Not only has it been photographed with me in it as a blushing bride, but Mr. Cowboy Boot has painted me in it on a three-times life-size canvas which I promise to share with you upon its completion.
It would make me happy to see another bride have her own blissful day in this ballerina-like dress and I would also find some peace of mind to know that I'd be lessening the impact on the planet (even if it's just one dress). Not to mention my credit card will smile.
To be honest, I'm scared. I'm nervous to watch her float out of my grasp, like a balloon slipped from its string. But, I'm also scared of the financial debt she's incurred (even if it's minimal over a lifetime). I tripled my dress budget when I found her, agreeing to pay the extra myself, but I never did. I never had that extra cash flow.
So, hive, tell me: would you sell your dress to make up for a few grand or would you keep it for a sentimental twirl down the road?