It’s a disgustingly First World, spoiled and over privileged thing to do- deliberately ruin a dress worth hundreds or even thousands of dollars that you’ve worn just once. In writing this post, I acknowledge that completely. And that thought crossed my mind more than once, flecked with materialistic guilt.
But, damn… trashing my wedding dress as part of our #Brilliant Road Trip was so much fun.
We’ve been planning to do this for quite a while. In some kind of small miracle, we both managed to remember to pack our dresses into the Hyundai’s trunk, along with an atrocious amount of luggage. Using up the last few hours of daylight on the last day of our road trip, we took a long drive along some flat, peaceful country roads near Scone. And found ourselves, quite randomly, at a place called the WashPools- check it out on our trip map, marked with the camera icon. We donned our frocks roadside, and got silly. As I mentioned on IG, the Chop took a few of these pics. And did an amazing job. (I do wonder exactly how he will recall this event when he’s older- part of me thinks that I will have some explaining to do, really…).
Deciding our dresses weren’t quite trashed enough, we stopped at Brooklyn, just off the F3, on our drive home. The clouds were gathering, the air was hot and muggy… and those long winter dresses far too hot. So we took them to with Auntie Mickey’s craft scissors, restyled them, and went rock climbing.
And then, of course, we dressed up a paper gum tree to a level of finery I’m almost positive it enjoyed. As you do.
Like I said- a million different kinds of fun. But as well as that, the ritual trashing of the dress was releasing, cleansing, relaxing and felt like some kind of… closure. Having my bridesmaid Auntie Mickey beside me, the same way she’s always been, completed some kind of weird, karmic evolution.
I got married, once, a long time ago. But if there’s such a thing as becoming ‘unmarried’, it feels as though I’ve done it.