A Married Megarita

I got married this past weekend at a zoo with about 75 family and friends, and although I did this very "quick and dirty," I knew from the moment I got engaged in December that I wanted a fabulous dress. I have never been a traditional wedding sort of girl, and I don't look good in white, so I knew I might have some difficulties finding a dress that suited.

I wanted a cocktail dress, because I like my legs.

I wanted something that was a beautiful color, that made me look and feel wonderful, and was not red or purple or something that would give my family coronaries.

I wanted to look good, but not super sexy. I wanted to show skin, but not have some aunt say "whore!"

I wanted something sleeveless, but not strapless, because I like my arms but not my bony sternum, and I knew I'd be sweating like a field hand.

With two of my favorite girlfriends in tow, I scoured the Atlanta retail markets for dresses. Retail people, when they heard that I was getting married at a zoo and that I wanted a non-white cocktail dress, were ecstatic and got very creative. I tried on gold lame skin tight meowzy dresses (BCBG), coral sheathes with matching platform stripper shoes (Karen Millen), black dresses with flowers that seemed most fit for cruise wear (Betsy Johnson), and a LOT of animal prints!

I had no ambitions for the dress I tried on (at Macy's, for those who wonder). It was off white, sort of a pearly color that was pink as much as it was gold. It had a bow in the back, which made me think "Alice in Wonderland" and not in a good way. But when I walked out with it on, feet in the high heels I'd thrown in my purse, my two girlfriends took deep breaths and said, "now you look like a bride.

I hadn't know until then that I wanted to look like a bride. Indeed, I was still very unsure as I bought the dress ($180) and the insanely beautiful gold heels ($60) and the shawl ($24). And yet when I put it all on the day of my wedding, I was blown away. I felt like a golden goddess. I was pretty and feminine in a way that seemed effortless. (My hair was another story, and my expenditures at the MAC counter are probably legendary at corporate headquarters, but this is about dresses.)

The dress mattered. Friends and family stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me, told me I glowed, and everyone fell over themselves to praise my silly pearly cocktail dress. They were pleased, and I was delighted, because the dress was more me than any boufy, sequined, bustled, bodiced madness. Say yes to the dress, professors, but say yes to your dress. You will never regret staying true to your own fashion and style.