Second Time’s A Charm

I received a call from a bride, Danielle, who was only a month and a half out from her wedding date. Though she was a little late in the game, I reviewed her date in my book and luckily had the availability, so we picked a day for her pre wedding hair trial.

Danielle was a nice enough girl, born and raised on the south shore of Long Island where she had grown up. She had met her soon to be husband at the local bar, and they had even known each other from “back in the dayz”, as she explained in her thick accent (and definitely would have spelled dayz with a “Z”). This was to be Danielle’s second wedding, as she had previously been married and had 2 children from round one. She and her fiance, Vinny, already had a son together, Angelo, and decided to make things official. She told me that she and Vinny were both real estate agents, even flashing a card with a photo of the dynamic duo sporting matching turtlenecks while looking awkwardly into the distance, like an 80’s yearbook picture. 
She wasn’t the least bit picky about her hair, only specifying that she would like half of it up and half down, and that she’d be wearing a tiara (a personal favorite for a grown woman….) I got to work curling and styling, though we didn’t get to talk too much, as she was constantly getting phone calls. Some of the calls seemed to be from prospective or current real estate clients, and some were from her kids, who were with Vinny for the afternoon.
I could hear the kids saying loudly into the phone “Ma! Where’s the pizza rolls???” and an angry Danielle shouting back “In the freezer!!! TELL DADDY TO MAKE THEM!!”
She barely looked at her end result hairstyle before passing it off as “looks good” and gathering her buzzing cell phone to head out. I was hired!

A month and a half later it was showtime and I pulled up to the rustic Italian themed banquet hall at my scheduled time. A gaggle of frizzy haired bridesmaids greeted me in the bridal suite. The only one noticeably missing, however, was Danielle. I was informed by her nervous bridesmaids that the woman of the hour was running a few errands that morning and would be a little late.
As not to lose time, I began styling the bulk of the bridal party. About 3 people in, Danielle made her grand entrance, bright red and raving mad. She was carrying her own wedding dress in a thin garment bag, which she slung over the bridal suite’s door, threw down her shoes, and started the conversation with “I am so freakin’ pissed right now….”. 
Apparently, she had waited until the morning of her wedding to get a manicure and “the girl” didn’t do her nails to her liking. Her girlfriends all jumped up to see the sub par manicure, which ended up looking like a regular square tipped acrylic French, passable and common place in the Long Island bridal world. The girls tried reassuring her that the manicure looked great, trying to settle her aggravation. She then went on to the next topic of annoyance; The groom to be.

I worked hard to coax her into sitting in my chair so I could at least start my work, as she recanted the story from the morning. Apparently Danielle must have been so busy peddling split levels that she left the task of picking up the groom’s tux and her wedding dress from the tailor and seamstress until the morning of the wedding.  She had dropped the tux off to the groom, Vinny, who was getting ready at the house with their son and his groomsmen. As she was leaving, she noticed a collection of liquor bottles on their kitchen counter, and was worried that the party was starting a bit early. All of her friends huddled around her giving advice to “just breathe”, assuring her everything will be great, while I just curled, sprayed and minded my own business. Though her friends encouraged her to have a mimosa and try to relax, she got a sudden burst of rage, and reached for her cell phone to check on the groom.
Vinny picked up, and though he was not on speaker phone, I could hear him as if he was standing in the room greeting her with a very intoxicated “Helllooooo??!”
I was barely able to whip my curling iron away fast enough as Danielle stood up from the chair and began to scream into the phone. The room fell silent as the stream of obscenities flowed from the bride-to-be, who was livid at the fact that the groom sounded drunk out of his mind. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what happened regularly during one of their “open house” showings, in their matching turtlenecks, and glad that I kept her card.
Everyone’s’ eyes darted to each other, then the floor, then the ceiling, then the beautifully painted Italian vineyard mural on the wall as they tried not to say a word while listening to the tongue lashing Vinny received. Danielle, screaming, asked if he had tried on his tux yet. A very drunk Vinny replied with “Yeah, and they don’t got any pants”. It appeared whoever had altered the suit forgot to include the groom’s pants, which are typically a necessary part of the ensemble. Danielle, now pacing, screamed a few four letter words, before hanging up on him, and clawing at her own bright red face. Her unbrushed barrel curls were dangling in despair, as the rest of her hair was clipped on top, making her look like an angry bright red pineapple. I offered an idea; “Is there anyone you could call who could stop by the tailor to grab the pants?” It was as though the lightbulb turned on. Danielle quickly called her sister in law, who was luckily still home and close enough to by to retrieve the missing pants and drop them off to Vinny, who would hopefully not soil them before the ceremony. 
It seemed as if the crisis had been averted, and I was happy to be able to guide her back into my chair to continue my curling. We finished up her hair, making sure to place the pretty princess tiara comb right on the top of her head. All of her ladies in waiting sang like a chorus, in the most Long Island of accents “Ohhhh my gawwwwwwd-ahhh! You look sooo beautiful!!” “Seriously Danielle, you look gawgous! Oh my Gawwwwwd!”

Danielle squeezed out a semblance of a smile, as it was time for her mother to help her into her gown, with the photographer on standby.

As previously mentioned, the bridal gown had also been retrieved from alterations THAT MORNING, with no bother to even try it on. 

Danielle stepped into the 75 layers of tulle and chiffon, pulling it up to her bust, only to hear her mother say “I don’t know if it’s going to zip”. Standing behind, I could see there was at least 2 inches of a gap where her zipper should be, and without a corset or shoehorn, I wasn’t sure how this was going to be possible. Her mother decided to go for it, kneeing her in the back and attempted for that brave little zipper to ascend to the top.
Everyone watched in suspense, as the dress was finally closed at the top followed by an abrupt “POP”- it broke.

Danielle’s face returned to the more dramatic shade of red as she was frantically fanning herself with the dreaded square tipped French, hyperventilating. At that very moment, her phone rang, and it was Vinny asking another drunken question about his boutonniere, which resulted in her screaming in his ear and hanging up.
Her mother tried to solve the situation by saying “I have an emergency sewing kit, let’s just get you out of the dress, and I’ll try to fix it. I think I remember how to sew….”
I stood there, getting ready to pack up my kit, contemplating if I keep quiet or chime in.
Feeling so badly for the situation at hand, I finally decided to speak up. 
“You shouldn’t fix the zipper at this point, we should just sew her in. I know how to sew”. The little and unadvertised fact is that I actually also sew and make clothing, so my services often become a 2 for one deal that Danielle definitely needed desperately. 
I had her mother use all of her might to hold the top of the dress together firmly in place, as I whipstitched through the Ivory fabric to close up the back of the dress, hoping Danielle would not have to use the bathroom any time soon.
Once my needle made its last pass at the top, I knotted it off, letting out a sigh of relief. 
“Is it good????” she asked, probably incapable of breathing at this point, as she stood there slightly exhibiting the same amount of cleavage coming and going. 
“Yep! Looks good!!” I confirmed, knowing full well that this was the best that could be done. 

I fluffed her hair one more time, and did a final spritz of hairspray before retreating to my station to clean up from the day. 
The bridesmaids returned to her side, showering her with compliments and excitement, as the photographer stepped in to pose them as if nothing ever happened. Unfortunately I didn’t get to stay for the ceremony to hear Vinny recite his vows, but I’m sure they were memorable. Congratulations to the happyish couple- they were off to a great start!