I survived the running of the brides

As I mentioned on Friday, a bridely friend requested the honor of my presence at the Filene’s Basement Bridal Event (heretofore known as the FBBE).

The FBBE is a wicked pissah of a Boston tradition: Each year hundreds of engaged ladies, their moms, aunts, maids of honor, beleaguered bridesmaids and assorted other devotees line up at the crack of dawn to be the first in the doors, grabbing at white gowns in an estrogen-fueled frenzy. Designer dresses are marked down to $249, $499 and $699 from the astronomical prices charged by regular retail outlets - so you can understand how otherwise sensible women can lose their freaking minds.

But MY LORD! An uglier display of humanity I have never seen. The meanest, nastiest, cattiest side of every single woman in that warehouse was on display. And would that unfortunate personality traits were the only vile thing on display – you cannot imagine the horror show of choice undergarments these ladies selected for the occasion.


We arrived at seven in the morning, Bridie and I did; upon locating her in the line I squealed and then yelled “Bridie! How do we not have costumes? I’ve totally failed you!!”

I know! Me! The Craft Queen! I’ll never forgive myself.

We made friends with the groups in front and behind us in line, which was prescient because once inside it was nice to have a few friendly folks among the screeching, red-faced masses.




The FBBE itself was the most overwhelming event I’ve ever attended. And I’ve been one of thirteen bridesmaids in a 700-person wedding, so I know from overwhelming. The people who get in first snatch all the dresses off the racks and then sit on them – LITERALLY SIT ON THEM – until the bride-to-be tries them on and rejects them to the “barter pile”.


Yeah, the barter pile. See, if a bride doesn’t like a dress she won’t just let someone else try it; one has to trade for a chance to don an ugly-ass frock that gives one hives just looking at it.

That system caused a lot of stress: At one point, while I hovered over a bride and her fat & nasty bridesmaids waiting for any discards, two girls in matching orange shirts stormed over and started a bitch-fight with the afore mentioned fat & nasty BMs. I laughed in solidarity with team orange, made a mean remark about the socio-economic status of the offending bridal party and whisked my bride away from the scene.

In honor of the barter system Bridie and I snatched up whatever hideous pieces we could find just to have something to trade. I ended up toting around a size 26 two piece number for a good half hour. After swapping that for a lovely size 12 off-the-shoulder number I did something I’ve never done before: I put on a wedding dress.


Suits me, doesn't it?

But enough about me, I know you’re just dying to find out if Bridie found a dress. After trying on three or four frocks (READ: Me forcing her into things because “you never know!”) Bridie spied something she liked in the clutches of another girl. I asked if she wanted it, and could we possibly try it on just to see…


WE GOT A BARGAIN!

See all my photos from the running of the brides.