My boyfriend comes from a country where it is still ok to refer to your cleaning lady or housekeeper as your maid. When he talks about the elderly woman who cleans his apartment once a month, he refers to her as ‘my maid.’ The possessive derogatory, however commonplace and non-connotative elsewhere, grates on the PC ear – of which there are aplenty in New York, one of which happens (at least in this context) to be mine.
It is not desirable to be a maid, nor an old maid, nor a barmaid. Being a maiden (typically in distress) is ok, but that’s the stuff of fairytales. Being a bridesmaid, on the other hand, bucks the trend. Here’s a maid you want to be, an honorable role, a maid of honor – at least in theory. I’ve heard horror stories of demanding brides who treat their ‘maids’ like, well, maids.
Due to serve in the bridesmaid capacity for the first time this fall, I’m not exactly certain what the gig holds in store, but I’m pretty excited. And so far so good. The dress is elegant, likely slimming, cocoa-colored taffeta – some fuss but not too much. I have not worn a full-length formal dress since I was a 3-year-old flower girl at my uncle’s wedding, so this is one maid who’s going to feel like cinderella. From a ‘paradox of choice’ perspective, I liked being told which dress, which color. Makes a bridal dress warehouse extravaganza a hell of a lot less overwhelming!
Sizing and ordering, though, were a touch complicated. Apparently bridal/bridesmaid dress sizes run 2+ sizes larger than regular dress sizes. The wedding industry’s in cahoots with Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig. You get measured and next thing you know the entire bridal party’s on Atkins. So while Gap and Abercrombie practice size deflation (encourages purchases because you feel super skinny), in a sliver of the clothing industry where you have less (and by less I mean no) choice about what to buy, double digits are to be expected. Size 18 and up, and you’re officially a diva.
Also – measurements are more complex than you’d think. I’m not sure how by taking my own measurements (measuring tape, handy online guide plus dress-specific chart, smart girl) I came up with a dress size two sizes larger than the one the retailer assigned me. Either way, the whole measurement process got me thinking about dimensions and shapes and how Barbie would fall over if she were a life-size woman.
Some say ‘ideal’ is bust and hips the same, and waist 10 inches smaller than that…so 36″-26″-36″ for example, but only about 10% of women have this sort of enviable hourglass figure. The rest of us are bananas, apples and pears. A rather boring array of fruit…
Bananas are straight up and down and apples are boobs- and waist-heavy, but pears have a fighting chance…there’s another measure of ideal that says if you take your waist and divide it by your hips, and you get .7 (Marilyn Monroe, Sophia Loren and Venus de Milo) then you’re a beaut…at least according to Western men…
The place at which I ordered my beautifully pear-proportioned bridesmaid dress had mixed reviews online. Before we signed up for the in-store program (slightly more expensive than the online no-frills one, but less hassle and no personal accountability for screw ups like incorrectly measuring oneself), my friend asked the sales assistant about the reviews. She looked at us, shrugged her shoulders and said, “Well, you know how people in this industry are…”
Fair enough. Not me though – I’m just the maid.
