Running of the Brides

This Friday was the bi-annual "Running of the Brides" at Filene's Basement. It's turned into quite a production, and I'm proud to say that I did it before it went totally commercial!

Just a week or two after Tom and I got engaged, my now sister-in-law, Mary, urged me to go with her to the upcoming sale, telling me to have no expectations, be prepared to be shocked and amused, and to just go with it and have a good time. I have to say: I had no interest whatsoever in going. When I was young, my mother used to drag me into Boston to catch a good sale at the Basement, and I have very strong and rather unpleasant memories of being practically bowled over by over-eager women of all ages trying to get a bargain. Running of the Brides is not my idea of fun.

I gave in. Mary met me around 6am and we headed into town. We were there by 6:30, and I think the doors (of the original Filene's Basement) opened at 7am. Some girls had camped out for an hour or two, but we were fairly close to the front. At her suggestion, I wore running tights and a tank top that I could easily scoot a dress over. The doors opened, we rushed in, grabbed whatever we could, then the trading began. All very cordial -- I'll give you this for that. I saw a petite girl wearing the dress I would ultimately buy and told Mary "we have to get that dress!" No expectations, but I somehow ended up with a designer dress that cost thousands for only $250. Apparently there was local TV footage later that night of me trying the dress on and twirling around in front of a mirror.

Today, the footage is a little more frightening. Girls camping out the night before. Grooms with them, ready to defend their future wife's dress stash physically if necessary. Cutesy matching t-shirts with catchy slogans. Way too many whistles. Way too much flesh being bared -- apparently my modesty is a thing of the past. I think these girls have seen Sex and the City one time too many!