Sassy Mom Seeks Attention by Wearing a White Dress to Her Daughter’s Wedding – But the Bride Outsmarts Her Perfectly
One guest suspects a plot when a wedding RSVP card oddly asks all women to wear white. As it happens, the bride’s dramatic mother intends to steal the show by dressing in her own white gown. But everyone is aware of the bride’s audacious scheme to outsmart her.
My wife, Linda, discovered the wedding invitation in the mail when I was sitting on the porch.
“It has arrived! She sliced the envelope open with her finger and declared, “This is David and Emily’s wedding invitation.”
Reading the invitation, Linda’s eyebrows jumped upward. Then she turned it over, and her look changed from one of interest to one of total confusion.
“Okay, you need to see this.”
She gave the RSVP card to me.
“LADIES — PLEASE WEAR WHITE, WEDDING DRESSES WELCOME!” was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen on an invitation, written at the bottom in handwriting that was way too loopy and theatrical to be David’s.
As if they might rearrange themselves into something logical, I gazed at the words. “Is this a typo… or a dare?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Linda stated. Everyone is aware that you don’t attend someone else’s wedding in white. This is similar to “Wedding Guest 101.”
David was a friend of mine from the Coast Guard. After three years of service together, we remained close. He was a straight-forward, pragmatic man who wouldn’t play a practical joke like this.
However, Emily? She appeared just as reasonable, even though I had only met her a few times.
I said, “I’m calling Chief,” and took out my phone. Even after both of us had left the Army, David’s previous moniker had endured.
Before David answered, the phone rang three times. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Chief, we recently received your wedding invitation, and I must inquire as to why you requested a white dress. Are you organizing a wedding with a theme?
A long pause ensued. David’s voice bore a weight I hadn’t heard since our deployment days when he finally spoke. Not wedding fatigue, but something more profound.
He added, “It’s Emily’s mom,” and I could just hear him massaging his temples. “Dorothy. She intends to upstage Emily by wearing her old wedding gown.
“She’s what now?”
“You heard correctly. She’s already done it. She threatened to escort Emily down the aisle if her ex-husband didn’t “clean up his act” for the wedding, made fun of Emily’s location choice to anybody who would listen, and interrupted Emily’s bridal shower by arriving in a white cocktail dress.”
My mouth fell open. “That’s… that’s insane.”
Welcome to Dorothy’s world, then. For months, Emily has been coping with this. Since we became engaged, her mother has been organizing this wedding dress stunt. “I want to show everyone what a’real bride’ looks like,” she says repeatedly.
What’s the strategy here, then? How is it beneficial for everyone to wear white?
David’s tone lightened a bit.
“Emily became astute. She reasoned that if Dorothy was going to attempt to steal the show in a wedding dress, why not provide a spotlight to everyone? Dorothy can no longer be alone if all the women wear white.
It was excellent, I had to concede. “So you’re all in on this?”
“The entire list of guests. At any rate, the women. To out-Dorothy Dorothy is the goal. However, keeping it a secret is crucial. When she enters, we’ll give her her moment, but we’ll cover it up with a sea of tiaras, white satin, and lace.”
I hung up and told Linda what was going on, and she almost choked on her coffee.
“You mean I get to wear my wedding dress again?”
Her face lit up like Christmas morning as I watched. She jumped up and hurried inside.
She was searching a storage container at the bottom of the hall closet when I discovered her.
Her words, “Emily’s a genius,” “I haven’t felt this excited about a wedding in years.”
Among the guests, word spread swiftly. The excitement was contagious, and the women were all on board.
Excited exclamation points and pictures of dusty clothing bags were shared in group texts. While some were visiting resale stores, others were borrowing dresses from friends.
A relative even declared that she would be donning her grandmother’s 1940s dress.
Linda came out of our hotel restroom wearing her old satin gown on the morning of the wedding. After all these years, it was a bit tight, but she looked radiant.
It was a lovely old dress.
Linda remarked, “I hope she brings the drama,” “I brought snacks.”
We were early in getting to the chapel.
Nervous energy and white cloth hummed through the chapel. At a posh bridal store, women swirled like a flash mob in silk and lace.
As planned, the bridesmaids wore ivory. Somehow, Emily’s cousin had discovered a full-fledged mermaid with a cathedral veil.
Even elbow gloves were used by one person.
As we observed the event, I whispered to Linda, “This wedding is either going to be the most awkward or the best wedding ever.”
“Why not both?” she grinned in response.
David and I set up shop at the front door, and I must admit that it seemed like we were guards waiting for a royal arrival or a royal outburst. Perhaps both.
A sleek silver sedan drew up to the chapel at precisely 2:47 p.m.
I saw a glimpse of movement, a dazzling flash, through the tinted windows. With a straightened tie, David looked at me as if to say, “Here we go.”
I had to give Dorothy credit for her skill at making an entrance since she stepped out.
The rhinestones on her white gown gleamed in the afternoon sun like diamond armor. Her cathedral-length train could have filled half the aisle, and the tiara on her head gleamed more brilliantly than her grin.
She moved with the assurance of someone who had spent months preparing for this moment.
Like a captive negotiating his release, her silent husband Alan, who was behind her, rearranged his tie and avoided making eye contact.
He had appeared to be a decent guy when we first met at Emily’s birthday celebration. He obviously knew what was about to happen.
David ceremoniously opened the door.
He said, “Welcome,” in a voice that seemed too pleasant to be genuine. “Everyone’s inside.”
Dorothy entered the threshold with a confident demeanor, anticipating her moment of success.
Then she came to a complete stop.
Twenty bridesmaids turned to look at her. With the exception of the faint sound of organ music and the rustle of cloth, the room became quiet.
Between incredulity and indignation, Dorothy’s face froze. Like a fish out of water, her flawlessly lipsticked mouth opened and closed.
No one moved for a moment.
Dorothy then discovered her voice.
“What’s the matter with you all? Going to someone else’s wedding in white? This is a disgrace.
Someone gave a courteous cough. Another woman slowly and deliberately adjusted her veil. The quiet dragged on like taffy.
With all due respect, Alan made the decision to either use violence or assert his right to liberty at that very moment.
“But… you’re wearing white too, honey,” he replied.
Dorothy’s head jerked in his direction like a hawk spotting a meal. “Damn it, that’s different! I am her mother.
The words reverberated throughout the little space. A phone buzzed and several women looked at each other. But no one moved.
I noticed a change in Dorothy’s countenance at that point. She became aware that she had been outwitted.
Once more, she looked around the room, taking in the sea of white dresses, the barely hidden smiles, and the well-planned defiance. Emily must have done this, and she knew it.
She felt as though the air suddenly left her.
She didn’t yell, collapse, or have the dramatic outburst I had half-expected. She simply shrank. like the helium in a balloon going out.
Music surged as the chapel doors opened. Anticipating another vision in white, everyone looked toward the entryway.
Instead, Emily and her father came in arm in arm, Emily glowing in a gown of deep red and gold.
At her own wedding, she was brilliant and untouchable, like a phoenix. Her smile was triumphant when the light from the stained glass windows touched the gold thread in her garment.
Dorothy remained silent the rest of the ceremony.
She didn’t respond in any way, cry, or clap. In the midst of the sea of deliberate dissent, she sat like a monument made of tenacity, her white outfit appearing perfectly natural.
Dorothy remained silent as the congregation erupted in cheers after the last vows were exchanged.
She moved quickly and efficiently to gather her train and left before the cake was cut.
Alan paused, smiled pityingly at Emily, and trailed his wife out into the parking lot.
We all laughed louder, danced harder, and raised a glass to Emily’s great, bloodless coup. The celebration was lively, tumultuous, and packed with individuals who truly wanted to celebrate love—everything a wedding should be.
Afterwards, I discovered Emily by the bar, sipping champagne with her eyes sparkling like the gold thread in her dress.
I informed her, “That was some 4D chess you played,”
She grinned. “Revenge stories taught me well.”
Beside us, Linda showed up with her glass raised high. “To the bride! Who knows when to raise hell and when to wear red?
I came to the realization that simply refusing to play someone else’s game can often be the most effective thing you can do after we toasted.
