It was to be the happiest day of her life and she was determined to remember every minute of it forever. A year in the planning with no detail overlooked.
Especially on the dress. She wanted the appearance of a graceful Angel that had just floated down from the heavens. She was told that a ten-foot train, the length referred to as "Royal", was much too extravagant and required an exceptional amount of attention from the Bridesmaids - might not she consider the Chapel length, or at most the Cathedral?
She wasn't settling for any of those "common" lengths, and demanded the train exceed the Royal length - which quite literally made the eyes in the head of the dressmaker roll back like two overhead garage doors with overtightened torsion springs.
Her request was honored however, and she walked down the aisle with three attendants trailing her to keep the sprawling train from snagging on the sides of the pews.
Two years later, after the acrimonious divorce was finalized (with what she screamed was a far less than satisfactory settlement), the dress and the train were in two large boxes in the storage unit she had covertly rented eight months into the marriage, when she first decided the wedding was a mistake and started to plan her exit.
It was a short trip from the self-storage facility to the thrift store.
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