Summer at the Little Wedding Shop: The hottest new release of summer 2017 - perfect for the beach!. Jane Linfoot
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boards, they’re either wearing tap dancing shoes or dizzy high heels.
‘Hello, coooo-ey, surprise …’
There’s a tinkling laugh. Then a clenched fist appears around the door frame. Along with the hugest rock of an engagement ring. In the world. Ever. Like Kardashian size, or bigger. As the diamonds waggle on the arm end, they don’t just twinkle in the light from chandeliers. They literally flash. If Jess had warned me, I’d have brought my sunnies down. I tiptoe to the front of the desk, bracing myself for whatever’s coming.
‘It’s sooooooo wonderful to be back.’
A figure storms towards me. A second later I’m squeezed into a mega hug, and I’m fighting for breath through fur and a perfume fug.
‘Is this real?’ I tug on the sleeve. When it comes to wearing animals, I’m a die-hard vegetarian.
‘Don’t be silly, fox hunting’s banned dahling.’ The hugger staggers backwards. ‘Omigod, where’s Jess? And who the hell are you?’
Looks like I’m not the only surprised one here. ‘Delighted to meet you too.’ Crap. Way too sarcastic. My first brush with a client, and it couldn’t be a bigger fail. I rush in to smooth things over. ‘I’m Lily. I’m working in styling, we’re making a brand-new department.’ Hopefully the gush will make up for the lack of expertise, and my grimace at almost saying my new job title out loud. ‘Sorry, Jess is out.’
‘Omigod, you’re a stylist? In that case I need to book you. Immediately. Like now.’ She’s flapping her hands so hard her scarlet nails are a blur.
‘Shit.’ I wince as something heavy thuds onto my foot. A bloody massive handbag. I bite my tongue, and think of the styling booking as I stoop to move it. ‘Oh, it’s a Gucci. That’s nice. And you are …?’
As she slides a knife edge of bottom into the chaise longue, and arranges her legs, I get my first proper view. She’s pretty much everything my mum wants from me, but doesn’t get. Groomed. Glossy as a race horse. Accessories that coordinate. Rocking the red lips and floral silk thing.
‘I’m one of Seraphina East’s biggest fans, and I’m here for a rematch.’ The laugh she lets out is almost a neigh. ‘It’s my second time around.’
‘Fabulous.’ Another divorcee. Despite my crushed toes and the horsey giggle, I’m warming to her.
‘When I called my wedding off last summer who’d have thought I’d be shopping for a dress again so soon? Or that I’d find my very own James Bond.’ A moment later her phone’s out, and the proof’s under my nose. ‘Isn’t my fiancé, Miles gorgeous? He’s a C.E.O. with his own coatings company.’
Daniel Craig could have made me well jel. Pierce Brosnan with added wrinkles, not so much. Whatever a C.E.O. is – I can never remember – I can see the professional coatings contacts could come in handy.
‘Lush.’ I sense it’s not enough. ‘Phwoar … to die for.’ Still more needed. ‘What a catch.’ Phew to not going on about ex-husbands then, given this one hardly looks first hand. I’m picking my jaw off the floor, and counting on my fingers. ‘A new man and a new ring all in six months. Well done you.’ You have to admire the tenacity. And the speed. ‘Was it a Valentine’s proposal?’
She nods, and drops her voice. ‘My dress from last year is still in the store. I haven’t got an appointment, but we’re going for a summer wedding. This year. I was hoping for a teensy look at some of Seraphina’s dresses. Seeing as Tuesday’s your quiet day.’
It’s not as quiet as it was, given how her laugh is warming up. No idea why, but my ‘tricky customer’ alarm bells are ringing. ‘It’s my first day, and I’m not sure how fast the dresses can be delivered. You might prefer to see Jess later?’ I open the appointment book, because I don’t want to mess this up. ‘She’s free from one?’ Hopefully my grin will make up for the deferral.
The disapproving sniff is loud. ‘I’m one of Jess’s most prolific customers, and “now” works for me. I know all about Seraphina’s range, so if you get the drinks, I’ll make a start.’ She’s scooped up her bag and she’s already making a bee-line for the Seraphina East Room, shouting over her shoulder. ‘Prosecco’s in the kitchen fridge, flutes are on the shelf. And if there’s any Valentine’s chocolates left, we’ll have those too.’
Whatever happened to ‘no’? Although, let’s face it, not many people buy two wedding dresses in the space of a year. And Jess is big on seizing the moment with customers. By the time I go through with the fizz, there’s a row of dresses hanging in the fitting room. And the customer’s on her knees, unwrapping a box.
‘Last summer I had these darling shoes from White White White Weddings. A total snip, at six hundred. Do tell me I’ll able to wear them this time.’
That’s Bristol’s swankiest bridal shop, with prices to match. But I hold in my whistle, because at Brides by the Sea we try not to judge. ‘So long as you’re comfortable wearing them, go for it.’ Although I doubt anyone could be that comfy in the heels she pulls out. ‘The bride makes the rules,’ I say, then instantly regret it. I’m not sure this bride needs encouragement. As for the emerald beaded flowers snaking over the sandals? Carp ponds and waterweed tangles spring to mind.
‘I’m so totally in love with Seraphina’s Country Collection, I may need to try every dress.’ The jewel encrusted watch she glances at as she takes a slug of fizz could almost have dropped off one of her shoes. ‘I need to be at the hair salon in four hours. So snip snap! Pass the chocolates, we’d better get started.’
Despite reeling at the Mary Poppins hand claps, I do as I’m told.
Her nose wrinkles as she peers into the basket I offer her. ‘You can’t fob me off with foil covered hearts, even if they are pink. Where’s the handmade confectionery?’ Disgusted doesn’t begin to cover it. ‘You do realise White White White give their brides smoked salmon blinis?’
I’m sensing the canape gauntlet is being thrown down here.
‘Yes, but do White White White allow casual drop ins?’ We both know they don’t. Once I’ve made the point, I soften, due to guilt. ‘Sorry, the truffles went super-fast this year.’ In other words, Poppy, Sera and I wolfed them all when we hauled my stuff upstairs. After four flights the calorie deficit was huge. I fire off a customer-is-always-right smile as I head for the door. ‘Give me a moment. I’ll see what else I can find.’
Lucky for me, there’s more ‘thank you’ confectionery in the kitchen than in a nurses’ station on a surgical ward. Given this is approaching an emergency, I grab a rather spectacular Ferrero Rocher tree, complete with taffeta bow, and head back. A lot more dresses have arrived in the fitting room since I left. But I take it from the simper that greets me, I’ve made an accidental good choice of chocs.
‘What a stroke of serendipity.’ She wiggles her fingers, and plucks a gold ball on a stick from the Ferrero tree. ‘When I marry, I’ll actually be Mrs Ferrara. How apt and absolutely fabulous is that?’
Pure fluke. But it reminds me, she still hasn’t told me her name yet. Even if I’m about to see her in her underwear, it’s somehow too late to ask. At least I know who she’s going to be.
‘Brides by the Sea might not do savoury snacks, but we do our best to have happy brides.’ Five years on, and it’s all coming back to me as if I’d never been away. ‘Which dress would you like to try first?’
The next two hours are so fraught they leave me longing for the calm of fully booked hotels. My worst moment? Discovering the extent of Sera’s new capsule ‘mix and match range’, which Jess has slipped onto the rails to trial. Separate pieces, designed so brides can put them together to create a look that’s completely unique. Silk shifts, chiffon tops, lace over dresses. Beaded sashes, ribbons, sequined tulle skirts, diamanté belts. I swear we’ve tried most of the four million permutations.