Let's call it a day

What do you get when you take 5 Dycks and add 3 Webingers? One sexy looking breakfast, that's what.

We eat, and reconvene on Graham Avenue. First stop; Belle Rykiss. How do you make dream dress shopping better? Slap a 70% off sale on it, that's how.

So, we pile into the 'boutique', strip our soles and dive into the fray. What a complete and total bust. Each dress we looked at was sorrier than the one previous. We unknowingly stumbled upon the Formal Graveyard. Where all gowns go to die. 1984 called. It wants it's shoulder pads back.

Next.

Chantal's bridal.



Definitely more upbeat, more choices; and ceratinly more modern. Our darling Brynderella looked fabulous, time and time again, but she was missing that sparkle. Until stock no. 31SRO112.

All of a sudden the air crackled with promise, prospects and possibility. Felicia's eyes glistened with tears, and the rest of us ooohed and ahhhed. Was that a twinkle? Possibly.



We move on.

Little feet were tired, bellies protesting so we dash into soup sandwiches and more for a quick bite. Food was good, but according to Bryn, and I quote, "The bathroom is 1 step away from being an outhouse". We can't win them all.

Onwards and upwards.

Helene's Bridal yielded nothing further. A few laughs, maybe. It was 1987 meets a southern US homecoming, if you can picture that. All the tulleing that you could shake a stick at. And more. Barbie would be envious at the sheer volume of sequins. So not happening.

The Bay Bridal shoppe.

At this point, Brynderella sees nothing but heaps of Chiffon, silk, satin, beadings and crinoline. Lines blur, and she can't distinguish one dress from the next. Our Bride has had enough. We are now in a Vodka state of mind.



A quick boot to Polo Park to scout out bridesmaid dresses turns up a few possibilities, but everyone is shopped out.

The only thing we are sure of, is that we need a drink. Stat.