““Three glasses of wine and two dozen dresses later, I stepped into a structured faille Oscar de la Renta. Absurdly puffy— and dreamily green. I twisted to coax the zipper up the side of my ribs, then poked my head out from behind the screen. “Well?” Meredith said. As I made my way toward the mirror, she beamed. On the pedestal, I pushed the falling chiffon sleeves fully off my shoulders and practically squeaked. The bodice’s boning was impeccable, and the skirt was the grandest, most romantic thing you’d ever seen. “I’ve been sketching something like this for myself since I was a kid,” I said.””
