Breakdown at Bridal Fashion Week

When you're pre-menstrual and post-bridal it's a recipe for disaster.

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I was walking through Chelsea at top speed, convinced that if I just kept moving, I wouldn’t cry. The sound of my boots was like a metronome on the concrete. I tipped my chin up ever so slightly, hoping that I could persuade the droplets forming to retreat backwards. I took a deep breath of crisp October air—the kind of breath that makes you wonder if you’ve been breathing at all up until that moment, where your ribs kind of hurt as they expand.

About a month into living in New York, I was invited to an event for Bridal Fashion Week, which takes place in the fall and spring here. It’s a chance mainly for bridal designers to debut collections, but it has also become a hub for all wedding related brands to throw events and make a splash. I had never heard of it before, I had no idea what to expect and I was just excited to be invited to a party. A few other events trickled in giving me fun things to do after work, I felt on top of the world.

When Fall Bridal Fashion week rolled around last year, I was invited to one singular event— a stunning and intimate “kick off brunch”. I took PTO to attend and was seated at a table of other “bridal influencers”, making the same bad joke over and over again about how I was a “married hag now!” Everyone was talking about their schedule for the week, how busy busy busy they all were. The host gave a beautiful toast about taking this moment to ground ourselves before all the craziness and everyone politely giggled. I felt like a fraud. I had no other plans, I had work tomorrow. I came home from brunch a little tipsy and a little frustrated.

“I am so out of the loop,” I said to my husband, “these girls are all doing this full time and I’m just faking it.”

Soon enough it was April again. I was so focused on starting my new corporate gig that when an invitation for a fashion show landed in my inbox I was genuinely shocked. I told a white lie to my brand new boss saying I had an appointment I couldn’t get out of, and on day two of my job I left to go sit front row at a show in Hudson Yards, an experience I had dreamt of since watching “The Hills” and The Devil Wears Prada.

All of these things, these cocktail parties and brunches and fashions shows, felt like a bonus before. And when I was miserable at my desk, I looked to them as a sign that there was more for me out there. I was proud that despite being in a boring tech job, I had built a life where I also got swag bags of product and Uber codes to swanky events with interesting people who spoke my language. Sure, self-doubt and comparison creeped in, and sometimes I left those soirées a little insecure (everyone has more followers than me! I’m not posting enough!), but I was able to shake it off. “Look at all you’ve done while working full time!” I’d tell myself, “Be proud!”

I had fantasized about what Bridal Fashion Week events might feel like if I didn’t have my job getting in the way, and last week I found out.