[img]1325|left|Alex Campbell ||no_popup[/img]Dateline Boston — I was going to have a custom-made fascinator for my wedding. I’ve been obsessed with them since the wedding of William and Kate. Excuse me? What’s a fascinator? It’s one of those fancy hats that the British wear to special events. You know, with feathers, bows and gravity-defying accoutrements. I think they’re beautiful, and boy, do they make a statement!
There’s a hat store near my house; I paid a visit eight months before my wedding. I tried on fascinators, and I fell in love with the first one. It was stunning: It had three small “flowers” made of feathers, and an amazing tall black feather that swirled up and over. It looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. My heart went pitter-patter when this thing of beauty sat atop my head. The only problem was the color. It was black and dark green, something one might wear to an evening event. I needed a fascinator that was white, pink and gray.
Here Is My Plan
I worked with the assistant manager, and together we came up with a plan for my hat. We emailed each other over the next few days; it seemed like it was a done deal, or at least a deal we would be working on. That was back in October.
‘Round about January, I realized that I hadn’t heard from AM since the fall. Hmm. I sent her an email and didn’t hear back for a couple of weeks. Did she work there anymore? Last week I called the store and got the owner. I said, “Hi, may I speak to AM?” He said she didn’t work there anymore. Hmm. I told him my story, and he said, “Oh, are you Alexandra? I saw your name on an email.” Hey, buddy, thanks for writing me back. Suddenly, Mr. Owner was falling all over himself to have me come in and work with him. I said I would.
Last Saturday S.O. and I went in, and there it was—the fascinator I had fallen in love with, lo, those many months ago. Owner showed me a few hats they were working on. He asked if I had a picture of my dress. He was very attentive to me. It would have been nice if it wasn’t for what he didn’t say. He didn’t say he was sorry that the ball had been dropped on my order. He didn’t say he’d like to make it up to me. He didn’t apologize for not getting back to me via email. After awhile, he came up to us and told us about a super secret sale the store would be having the next day. Doors opened at 6 a.m. We’d have to say a password at the door. We couldn’t tell anyone about it because it was by invitation only. Everything would be 40 percent off.
I thought about it. Did I want to be at a store at 6 a.m. on a Sunday? Did I really want the wrong-colored fascinator that badly? Was Owner just a little too slick for my liking? The answer to the last question was decidedly yes. By the time we got back to the car, I told S.O. that I didn’t want to buy anything from that store. My hair would be the star of my bridal head, not a fancy hat that may or may not get made.
My hair might be too short to hold a veil, but wouldn’t it look cool if I dyed my hair pink for my wedding? I will be fascinating without a fascinator, thank you very much. Stay tuned.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at snobbyblog@gmail.com
