So, it wasn't 27 times. Seven times down the aisle in bridesmaid dresses was plenty for Deborah McLaren of St. Paul.
In her 20s and 30s, bridesmaid McLaren wore, among other monstrosities, "a puffy sleeved, bow-tied pink gown," later used as her "Barbie the prom queen" Halloween costume, and a punk-inspired black minidress with red slashes across the front. With Doc Martens. She also posed for wedding photos flanked by " an entire country-rock band with mullets," and hosted several bachelorette parties with the requisite "penis-shaped ice cubes."
Ten years ago, McLaren, 47, did the only thing she could think of to save herself from further torture: She got married. "Now I'm just asked to read poetry and pass out the birdseed bags," she said happily. "Marriage is a pretty safe haven."
Cara Germain has McLaren beat, albeit slightly. Germain, 33, manager of interactive marketing for the Travelers Co., will be wearing bridesmaid dress No. 8 to a wedding Feb. 2. After standing up seven times in colors from "Christmas red" to "cornflower" (the latter with a bolero jacket), she says this is a "good one. Simple, sleeveless, floor-length and black. And no ugly butt bows."
But Jennifer Lundstrom's story takes the cake. Lundstrom, 38, of Minneapolis, was a bridesmaid in a wedding 10 years ago, "just because they needed another woman to even the line. I hardly knew this woman, but said yes anyway. I ended up in a horrible maroon dress with poofy sleeves and a huge bow on my butt that stained my skin! Oh, yes, and those horrid shoes that hurt your feet even before you step into them. I feel embarrassed because I can't even remember the bride and groom's names anymore!"
Why do we do it?
We complain. We smirk. We ask: "How does that color exist in nature?" But we do it, because it's an honor, and we love our sisters and best friends and want to share in their happiness, even if that means being trapped for several hours in eight feet of fuchsia and crinoline.
In the movie "27 Dresses," Katherine Heigl's character, Jane, does it because she's a hopeless romantic willing to accept one degree of separation from the altar if she must.
According to Condé Nast Bridal Media's most recent American Wedding Study, the nation's 2.2 million annual weddings involve 11 million bridesmaids. Each of them shells out an average of $138 per bridesmaid dress. Germain said her priciest wedding dress was $267, and that didn't include shoes or her up-do (another 75 bucks).
Some bridesmaids need to factor in travel costs, too. That's why Brides magazine editor-in-chief Millie Martini Bratten counsels potential bridesmaids to think before they leap. "It is an honor," she said. "These are her closest friends, the people she wants standing with her when she makes the most pivotal decision of her life. But before you say, 'Oh, I'd love to,' wait a minute."
Still, it can be awkward, or hurtful, to turn down the offer. Bratten's suggestion: "Tell the bride-to-be that you'd love nothing more than to play a special role in her wedding, but work/kids/budget make that difficult." Then ask, "Is there something else I can do? A reading, maybe?"
Not every bridesmaid recoils at the honor, of course. Jenny O'Brien of Edina has been a bridesmaid eight times and an usher twice. "I guess that's the price of being from a large family and having lots of good friends. I have been honored to be in each one," said O'Brien, 46, "and never had to wear a dreadful bridesmaid dress."
You can wear it again!
Don't believe it? Lizzie Miller, 25, of Burnsville, will be in her eighth wedding this October, (she's the youngest of eight children), but she has no complaints. Many of her dresses, she said, "are pretty sleek." She's kept two that she plans to wear again.
Or you could do what Germain does. Three times around April Fool's Day, Germain and friends have thrown a bridesmaids' brunch, "as an opportunity to get more use out of these fabulous gowns." It's done in the name of fun, she said, "and a good mimosa."
Guests are required to wear a bridesmaid dress, "or one will be provided for you." For extra fun, they sometimes wear elbow-length gloves and carry "tussy mussies," those silver-plated cones into which the bridesmaid's bouquet is placed. Two years ago, the mail carrier took a group photo of the rainbow-colored women in the front yard, and a neighbor asked what time the prom started. "About 15 years ago," Germain said, "but thanks."
Afterwards, the women donated gowns to Ever After Gowns (everaftergowns.org), a Twin Cities nonprofit boutique providing new and gently worn prom dresses to low-income high school girls.
Progress at last
If it's fear of cheap satin that's keeping you from joining the bridal party, here's good news. More often than not today, bridesmaids' dresses are more fun to look at than laugh at.
"They often resemble cute cocktail dresses," Bratten said. "Very chic, and in sophisticated colors: black, brown, navy, taupe." Fabrics, from satin to crepe to tulle, are much-improved, too, she said, even at entry-level prices.
In addition, more than one-third of brides are choosing similar, but not identical dresses for their bridesmaids, respecting differences in body types and preferences. A friend who feels uncomfortable in a strapless dress, for example, can choose the halter version in the same fabric and color.
And those toe-torture chambers known as wedding-party shoes? More brides are choosing ballet slippers, strappy sandals or something metallic, so that the bridesmaids really can wear them again.
Germain would be happy to hear that. Despite her teasing, she is always honored to be asked. But she has already promised her friends that when she gets married someday, "I will not force them to wear dyed-to-match shoes."
Gail Rosenblum • 612-673-7350
