Picture the scene, its Saturday, the day in the week when every bride wants to go around and choose her wedding dress. Most sensible girls with an IQ level higher than a goldfish realise that on a busy day an appointment would be an advantage. With a diary full of appointments we hear the door chimes clank and a parade of stomping feet climb the stairs.
It takes some time because as you would expect the usual pram and pushchair cavalcade follow along with teenager from hell, cherub/devil flower girl, matron of honour dressed in combats, crop top, short spiky hair bleached blond and black displaying interesting tattoos and a collection of gold hoop earrings up each ear as well as one in her nose. A mother, mother in law, Auntie, Grandmother and friend (for a second opinion of course) all tramp up the stairs flagged by what can only be described as the Bride of Frankenstein.
The bride too, is wearing crop top and combats, DM boots but even more delightful the combats are hipsters and show off not only tattoos but also the top half of the cerise pink g-string. She starts by barging into the main room nearly sending the current bride who has an appointment flying. At which I make a rugby tackle like dive in front of the door
“Do you rent dresses?” she bellows
I try not to seem too snooty but please people, rent dresses? When have you ever heard that? I replied with “I am sorry I don’t think there are any shops in the city that HIRE their GOWNS” the mother of the bride lets out a huff and tutt and rants “we just want to look at your dresses” to which I reply “I am sorry but you need an appointment” the poor bride with an appointment is looking on bemused and terrified at the prospect of the convoy of people being ushered into the room in which she stands. “What just to look at them that’s stupid come on Kylie lets go” and they retreat slamming the door wind chimes nearly smashed into oblivion as they pass.
One very hectic Saturday, my Saturday worker is sitting around as usual either arms crossed yawning and off in her dream world or texting her mates about some lad she met. The alterations expert is in the main fitting room with yet another bride who has lost weight slowing losing patience with the amount of alteration work to be done and I am on the 2nd floor with four bridesmaids all with diferent dress styles in mind. I hear the door chimes ring and a stampede of heavy feet climb the stairs. Waiting to greet them I come face to face with “loud bride”.
Bride - “Do you have bridesmaids stuff” she shouts at ten decibels
“Yes we do but I am afraid we are fully booked today”.
Now I am not posh (ask anyone who knows me) and I am not snooty but this bride was extremely loud and extremely common I am sorry but it has to be said. She was probably about a size 26 with tattoos and piercings galore. She is not shifting so I run for some brochures and the price list. Whilst I am in the other room gathering my “get out of the shop” material I hear her delicate bellow as she looks at the size 8 svelte bride in the fitting room and says “oh you look ace in that love”. She then turns to her “husband to be” a scrawny little fellow with a scalped haircut and various tattoos to match his partner and states “that’s how thin I want to be for our wedding when I’ve had’t Baby”.
Not something you usually expect to hear in a bridal shop I try to contain myself as I shove the brochures in her hand and gesture her to the door. Really ladies please contain yourself a bridal shop is a serene place of peace and tranquillity not an episode of Jeremy Kyle.
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