The Wedding Chronicles: Norman and Cat Go To Kleinfeld

The dress hunt was stalled. I had found nothing I deemed to be spectacular enough to be voted dress of the century and thus I hated everything. Out of desperation, and perhaps morbid curiosity, Norman booked us into bridal Disney World, otherwise known as Kleinfeld.

For those of you unfamiliar (anyone? really?), Kleinfeld is the NYC bridal behemoth that spawned the guilty pleasure tv show, Say Yes to the Dress. I would like to say that I am above watching this type of reality television. I am not. When it comes to viewing habits, I am decidedly low rent. I will happily watch gals sausage themselves into a rhinestone mesh circus from Pnina Tornai all day long.

I was curious to see inside this place. Comma but. In life as in shopping, I continue to suffer from the completely erroneous idea that I am SPECIAL ! I like stores that pet me as though I am a small animal in distress teetering on the verge of suicide attack. Kleinfeld isn’t for petting, Kleinfeld is for military style dress missions. If you’re not there to get it done, you need to get out. I had grave concerns about our fitness for K Town.

The lobby was packed with girl parties jacked up on Frappuccino ready to play wedding. Exactly no one was dressed for the occasion. Nothing says bride like a pair of shorts you can fish in. Most bridal battalions came in groups of at least 8. Our sad little party of Cat and Norms numbered only 2. I got the distinct feeling that we were being pitied by our fellow gown seekers. Also, I left my BRIDE sash and scepter at home, which didn’t help legitimize our cause.

You get 1 hour in this joint. One hour. We got down to it. Norman produced a list of designers and explained the styles we would like to see from each. I mentioned the word “feathers” and was met with a firing squad of Nos. I then explained that I wasn’t leaving until I had dropped myself into THE MOST EXPENSIVE showgirl wedding costume tiny little Pnina Tornai had to offer. (If you’re lost, binge a few eps and come back.) Our consultant was down for it all.

Norms goes a-shoppin in the Kleinfeld store rooms.

He led us to the motherlode of wedding garb concealed in giant storage rooms. While Norms and our consultant went about the work of selecting gowns, I was invited to butt out and press buttons on a wall that sent gowns flying around on tracks over head. Clearly, they meant to keep me from the feathers. I continued pushing buttons like a deranged 5 year old and was about to demand cotton candy when they dragged me from my game. I hoped there might be a little train to drive us through the glitz back to the fitting room, but alas, we were forced to, ugh, walk.

Our consultant loaded the candidates into the fitting room. I felt I probably needed a pair of safety goggles and some Xanax. This much tulle could kill a person.

The first order of business is to strip down and wrap up in the Kleinfeld-embroidered bride robe. Best to also wrap up in the provided pashmina as it is -4 degrees in there. K Feld is not interested in you sweating up their goods.

There is a lot of nudity involved in wedding dress trial. Lucky for me, I spent all formative years in ballet and theater so I am fine dropping trou. However, I do wish to apologize to the two older ladies lingering outside of our fitting room who seemed upset by my repeated hiney shots.

We tried SO. MANY. GOWNS.

We test ran ruffles.

We debated cleavage.

And ill-placed embellishments (can you see it?).

But nothing quite hit the right note. Though I did thoroughly enjoy my turn in this 21k Pnina special. But since I am not getting married to a porn star, I had to pass.

Kleinfeld was a fabulously fun experience but I am still without a gown.

Norman, you need to fix this. Time for you to make a wedding dress, friend.