By Laura Anders Lee

The best bridesmaid dress I ever wore was to my brother’s wedding. My sister-in-law selected royal blue dresses from Ann Taylor. They were on sale, and they had pockets! I felt like Jackie O. The dress was belted at the waist and flared out slightly, perfectly hiding my brand-new baby bump. My best friend knew something was up when I turned away a martini at the reception, but not wanting to steal my brother’s thunder, I delayed the announcement. I ended up wearing the dress one year later for my son’s baptism, which just so happened to be on their first wedding anniversary.

The bridesmaid dresses I chose for my own wedding were not so timeless. No one wore them again, despite any promise I might have made. My friends are absolutely beautiful, but let me tell you, those shimmery strapless dresses in lichen green didn’t do much for anyone’s complexion, no matter how many times they went to the tanning bed. (Regrettably, we did not have spray tans back then.) To make matters worse, I had an outdoor wedding in August in Alabama, and the fabric was not forgiving of sweat. Thankfully, my bridesmaids were much more forgiving of me. 

I’ve heard so many horror stories about bridesmaid dresses over the years. One designer dress was upwards of $400. Another was so tight-fitting, a bridesmaid fainted at the altar. A friend of mine chose a classic white bridesmaid dress with a black sash she thought was foolproof, and it would have been, except two of her bridesmaids were seven months pregnant at the wedding and felt like Humpty Dumpty. 

Bridesmaid dresses are so historically bad, numerous DIY blogs share tips on how you might actually wear them again. Dress them down with a jean jacket and boots. Dye them black and wear them on a night out. Cut them down for your daughter’s dress-up box. Turn them into a Christmas tree skirt. My favorite idea was simply to throw a party where everyone wears one of their old bridesmaid dresses—the more chiffon, ribbons and ruffles, the brighter the color, the better.

Now married for 18 years, I’m the older and wiser matron. I wish I could go back and tell my 23-year-old self that bridesmaid dresses don’t really matter—and matching shoes certainly don’t. I’m just grateful I had a group of friends who cared enough about me to travel on their entry-level job incomes to be there for me on my big day. And they even showed up in the dresses I told them to wear, without complaint, in a shade of green nobody was envious of.