The number of dresses I tried on for my wedding: maybe 3.
The number of dresses I tried on for my son’s wedding: 37.
The experience of trying to find something to wear to the wedding of my firstborn child has been the most impossible fashion challenge of my life. Even harder than when I took an ill-fated job as a commercial TV executive and had to work out how to dress corporately in a sea of men in navy suits. And that was excruciating.
When my son Luca and his partner Jessie got engaged last year, one of the first things people asked me was what I’d wear to their wedding. I was baffled by the question.
When God was handing out the Wedding gene, I must have been in the toilet because I've never been remotely interested in weddings. Not even my own.
I found no joy in any of it, not even the dress. Admittedly, I was pregnant at the time and I had a toddler and a hectic job, and life was a lot – but life is always a lot and most women I know find joy in planning their wedding. I never did and I don’t use that as a flex to say that I’m somehow superior to brides who obsess over the calligraphy on the placecards. Because, have you met me? I am nothing if not deeply interested in superficial things.
Clothes are one of the greatest pleasures in my life. I use them to express my creativity, to elevate my mood, to entertain myself and others. Curating my wardrobe is my hobby and my passion and shopping is my favourite thing to do.
However.
Never have I ever had a more difficult fashion brief than Mother Of The Groom (MOG). It’s been a whole thing and good lord I just want it to be over. Not the wedding – I’m looking forward to that with all of my heart even if the details of it are deeply uninteresting to me.
So why am I so tortured about what to wear?
I enjoy going to weddings, I just don’t enjoy dressing for them. And never have I enjoyed dressing for a wedding less than this one. The pressure has felt intense, all of it put on me by me because honestly, there has never been anyone in history more entitled to main character energy than a bride and no sentient human would dispute that. Nobody cares what I'm wearing including me. So why does nothing feel right?
If there was a MOG dress code it's this: Not About You. It’s even harder than being a bridesmaid where you're told what to wear and you just have to open your wallet and nod a lot.
The quest to find a Mother of the Groom (MOG) outfit has, I've realised, been more mental and emotional than sartorial because what do you wear to symbolically step aside as the most important woman in your son’s life to make way for his bride?
It’s made me doubt myself. It’s been confusing. And I’ve learned the following:
The 6 unspoken rules for MOG dressing:
1. The MOG may not upstage the bride under any circumstances. If you f**k this up, there will be long-lasting consequences. Remember: It’s Not About You. Like, At All.
2. The MOG cannot upstage the Mother of the Bride (MOB) who is higher up in the wedding hierarchy due to her proximity to the bride who is of course at the top of the tree, above the groom.
3. The MOG must defer to the MOB in matters of colour and style. She gets first dibs.
4. The MOG must look more special than a regular guest but not like she is trying too hard.
5. Not too much skin.
6. No cleavage. Nobody needs to be reminded that the groom was once breastfed.
These rules have never been explicitly communicated to me. My future daughter-in-law and her mother could not care what I wear, they just want me to stop talking about it. Please.
The irony of course, is that in trying so hard to make it Not About Me, I have managed to make it All About Me by sharing photos of my MOG outfit journey on Instagram. I did that because I often find difficult things easier to process when I turn them into content.
What I didn’t expect was how seriously the Internet would take my quest and how many women would make it their own.
This is beautiful.
For months, I’ve received earnest, helpful and supportive DMs with links to possible MOG outfits. Women regularly stop me in shops and the street to ask if I’ve found something to wear to the wedding yet. My anxiety has sparked a contagion of empathy.
And so, because I have a lot of photos in my camera roll and inspired by Clare Stephens' genuinely riveting documentation of her quest to find a wedding dress (yes, I know she was a bride and I am not which is why this whole situation is mortifying), allow me to share with you…..
DIARY OF A MOG.
FOUR MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING:
#1: With no idea what I want, I decide to get a head start and try some things on. Naturally, I kick off by trying on the same dress as the 20-year-old sales assistant at boutique called Coco and Lola which do a roaring trade in bridesmaid's dresses and special occasion frocks.
I end up buying this dress but not to wear to the wedding. I still haven’t worn it. Friends, I’m peaking too early and I know it.
#2: From the same shop, my eye is caught by a rainbow situation with cut-out shoulders. This is to be my first clash with the fashion trolling that is cut-outs but sadly it will not be my last. At least the cut-outs are at the shoulders and not the love handles. That's in my future. It’s a fun dress and I don’t hate it but my children laugh at me.
#3 & 4: Next I try a couple of long dresses in two of my favourite colours because brights always look lovely at weddings but they both look like I’m trying to be a bridesmaid. In hindsight, I like them both.
Things were set to get so much worse but I didn’t know that yet.
THREE MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING:
#5: I still have no idea what my ‘vision’ for myself at this wedding should be which makes shopping very hard because everything is on the table. And in the fitting room. For example. This dress, which could look fresh on someone younger but makes me look like a drape.
#6: Could I wear pants? I see a gold-ish body suit that looks fun but oh god this looks horrific. The cut-out.. And why does one of my boobs look deflated? Get off me.
#7: The same gold fabric as the cut-out bodysuit but I’ve never been someone who feels comfortable in tight clothes. Now is not the time to go there. Abort.
#8: It can be hard to tell how something will look when it’s on a coat hanger, so I am evidently still at this point (and all the points) trying on everything. Ruffles? Tiers? I like the colour. It sort of swamps me though. It shouts I AM A DRESS and I want to whisper. Too much fabric. Too much going on.
#9: I try this next dress on 15 minutes after the blue ruffled one so you can see how confused I remain more than 100 years since this godforsaken quest began. This looks like a shirt-dress in the picture but it is sort of embellished with gold foil and I think …maybe? Maybe not.
TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE WEDDING:
#10: This is when I walk into Zimmerman because they know how to do a fancy AF frock. They have a wild variety of styles but oh lordy, the money. I decide to ignore all price tags and just get some vibes. This dress ticks my rainbow box but feels a bit matronly.
#11: I don’t know how to feel about this but it doesn’t matter because I do look at the price tag in a weak moment and it says $2,400 and my eyes fall off.
#12: Ignore the shoes but there’s something about this MOG brief that keeps shouting NAVY in my head. It feels somehow… appropriate? It’s not a colour I wear so I’m confused that I keep reaching for it. This is actually quite interesting and unlike anything I would ever wear. Does that mean it’s right? It’s actually a skirt and a top which somehow feels better than the whole dress situation.
#13: Well, this is great. And it's about to get even worse from the front.
FFS cut-outs stop trolling me.
#14: The ruffles are pretty and feminine but the colour washes me out and it feels too fussy.
#15: Driving past Cue later in the week, my eye is caught by this fluoro yellow dress in the window. Haven’t been into Cue in years. I thought they made black suits (they do). I love this colour but not the style. Bad shoulder on me.
#16: Navy again! This isn’t special enough for MOG but it’s a nice dress.
#17: I love so much about this dress and how well does it go with my sandals? I could dress it up or down. But the back is like a bikini top and would make it hard to wear a bra. Fashion people: think about our bras. We beg you.
#18: Great colour. Slightly whack-a-doodle shape but I don’t hate the asymmetrical neckline. Except…
FML
#19: Similar colour. Different cut. Couldn’t wear a bra though. And there’s some weirdness around the waist.
#20: I’ve never seen anything less like me. Which makes this skirt and top kind of appealing? I like having my arms covered but still having a sexy shoulder. Size isn’t right though.
#21: Same top, skirt in same colour. Dark green? Never have I ever.
Better with the top tucked in.
Uh-oh, I’ve tipped into matron.
#22: This is way too close to white and I’ve clearly lost my mind at this point.
#23: Now I’m accidentally in Camilla and I need to be tasered.
#24: I love a co-ord but not for my MOG outfit. GET OUT OF CAMILLA.
#25: Okay this is promising. I think I love it! It has removable straps, but it’s meant to be worn strapless I think. Is that allowed for a MOG?
This dress comes with a belt and it’s a little big so I need the size down but I can order it online. It’s Ginger and Smart.
#26: This fabric also comes in a short shirt-dress and I try it on over the strapless one with the belt over both. I quite like the idea of this look in case it’s cold. Mad for the colour.
#27: It also comes with pants but no. This looks too much like pyjamas.
#28: I try this on because it’s the same style as the blue dress but a size down. I send a photo to Jessie to troll her. “Mind if I wear white?” Sensibly, she ignores me.
So by this point there’s two front runners:
I buy the dark green top with the blue and green skirt and tell myself I’m done and I don't have to think about it for the next couple of months until the wedding.
I’m not done. I'm sooooooo not done.
Continue reading Mia Freedman’s effort to find a MOG dress, where she shares her next 10 options - and the final look... Read Part TWO
Feature Image: Supplied
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