myhuntfortranstasticweddingattire j.d.gevry

There was nothing for me.

I squeezed my eyelids together; tried to place myself in a sharp suit at the end of a long aisle at the end of a long courtship at the end of a long transition. I saw myself walking down the aisle in this suit, next to (but comfortably far from) my old-school mechanic dad looking awkward in the only suit jacket he owned and a tie he never wears, purchased circa 1985. I felt my sparkle crack; my veracity wither. All the guests did, in some way, even under their own desired beliefs that this was ‘appropriate’ and ‘correct,’ given how she/he Frankensteined his/her body.

I squeezed my eyelids together, trying to place myself in a long ivory gown: lacey top laying smoothly over my flat mastectomied chest, skirt flowing as I walked, eye glitter sliding into my beard on my sun-pressed face. I felt like a trans drag queen bride who’d been unable to escape the predetermined destiny of that throne. I saw my dad in his suit looking both happier and less comfortable than I’d seen since my first puberty, when I began to wear makeup and shave my legs as well-behaved women do. I envisioned him walking beside me knowing he’d always wanted a son knowing this is not what he’d had in mind when making that request to God in the year of his tie’s manufacture. I saw the Catholic disgust ooze from the rows of chairs I cared. I did not care. I wanted to not care.

There was nothing for me.

Lace bridal tops basically didn’t exist. Thinking perhaps I could turn a dress into two pieces, I searched rows and rows of dresses in shops filled with onl women; serpentine sales associates pressing their faces into the glass door my transitional home this confused wedding attire turmoil, trying to see what furniture lay still disassembled inside. I needed a screwdriver. They ha hammers. And no one had a floor plan

I tried on one. I tried on too many. I drowned inside princess ball gowns an waddled in mermaids and flowed in aframes and blasted through some trumpets. Sweetheart necklines surfacing sourheart memories of the fatty lumps I cried nights over to destroy, compressed my lungs in the daytime just to get through, sold my body in exchange for freedom from. W darts thrown, impossible to remove, there was too much space for gratefull abandoned pieces; no space for remarkably still-present me. I couldn’t bear to shave my beard during these days; keep the pendulum centered.

Still nothing for me.

I longed for a flowing skirt to float around me as I approached my love in procession, cut our cake, greeted our guests. Intricate ivory lace patterns in not-too-femme top, delicately complimenting my lightly made-up fac its sheer, lace-framed open back held together with a long line of self-covere ivory shank buttons grazing my spine, snug in their rouleau loops. Pearl earrings and lip studs; maybe

DidIgenuinelyexperience thisoutfitasnotaligning withmygenderidentity?

Inthecontextofoneofthe simultaneouslymost importanteventsofmy lifeandheavilysocially gendered,thesewerenot easyquestions.

rhinestones centered within because sparkle. is. my. jam. I dreamed of dainty ivory low-platform sandals; practical for the grass and being on my feet for a few hours, but cute none-the-less. And who doesn’t love a fashionable pragmatist?

I was shocked when my mother offered her gown to me. She said she’d never wear it again anyway, so who cares if I take it and alter it? I tried it on. It fit. Poofy 80’s sleeves, a beautiful ivory chiffon skirt that was perfection, high lace collar… I wanted to do it; wanted to try. I went to a small bridal alteration shop owned by a middleaged Armenian woman, completely unphased by my gender a fear I’d had when trying to select where to go. After turning the dress into two pieces, depoofing the sleeves, flattening the chest, and sewing lace from the veil onto the newly-created bottom edge of the top, the transformation was complete. But I itched under the imagined eyes of people who would see a woman with a beard in a dress. Standing in the light of genderacceptance and euphoria fostered within me through the grace of the trans and non-binary community, I tossed that discomfort aside and still… it wasn’t right for me. Was I hanging on to internalized anti-trans messages, scared or embarrassed of what others would think?

Did I genuinely experience this outfit as not aligning with my gender identity? In the context of one of the simultaneously most important events of my life and heavily socially gendered, these were not easy questions. Yet regardless of the “why,” the outcome was the same.

So onward Thrift shops. Retail stores. Bridal shops. Online… everywhere online. The skirts were too close to dresses when paired with a lace top. The ivory of a skirt was impossible to match with the ivory of a top. The tops had darts in the bust that couldn’t be altered. I was devastated I’d wasted my friend’s money and made alterations to my mother’s wedding dress that I now knew I’d never wear. Nothing was right Nothing was fixable.

There was nothing for me.

So I created it. I felt like I had to choose bet together they merged into a wedding gown were just soft and lilac enough to feel both g p y nervousness in finding someone to create a wedding top for a non-binary person, I found a Slovakian bridalwear designer on Etsy. I looked at lace designs; emails filled with photo after photo of various kinds of lace. I adore lace; I never wanted to see lace again. I got the full back of buttons I longed for, the open back framed with lace, a curved neckline with thick straps that didn’t feel too feminine for me. I sent her my measurements. She did not believe me. I re-measured, telling her I was a “small man,” went back and forth; I sent her pictures. She reluctantly accepted them as fact.

Pearl lip and ear studs, white wedge sandals, and my very dear, deceased grandmother’s borrowed ring: the finishing touches. Standing in the mirror adorned in all the components of this outfit that took more than a year to come to life I at last felt like I’d found my vision amid the cishetcentrism of the wedding industry, and married my foreverlove feeling uncompromised, unafraid, and completely myself.￭