But it probably could have happened anywhere else in the world… right?
My mom, my two sisters, and I decided to go wedding dress shopping together in Santiago. I did not have any expectation of finding a dress, but I wanted us to have the experience (and oh what an experience it was). Carlos and I are flying in shortly before the US wedding and we’re probably going to miss a lot of typical wedding things, like engagement parties and food tastings. That’s not a big deal to me, but I thought the ladies could have a little bit of wedding fun since we were all together for once.
I did not have high expectations but I kept an open mind. I knew Chilean dresses are generally not my style (more princess than elegant) and generally low quality for a lot of money, relative to NY. But, with the wedding less than 9 months away, I certainly wouldn’t have said “no” to a Chilean dress I liked.
I had read on a gringa blog that she thought Punto Clave made the best dresses in Chile. We went to the one in el Centro, because it was close and I didn’t want to trek out to Las Condes for cuico price markup. Maybe that was my first mistake.
We entered the shop. I approached a sales lady and asked if we needed a reservation to try on wedding dresses. No, you can do it now, but she looked annoyed. She told me I could look through the catalog and pick them out. The catalog was surprisingly short. We had fun looking through the dress pictures, which by the hairstyles looked to be from 2001. Very few appealed to me, but I chose three or four to try on.
She told me, “Look, I don’t have that one in stock, but I have one similar.” Okay. At least it’s a starting point.
She asked me casually when the wedding was. “August” I replied.
“Oh you still have tons of time, you’re really early” she said with raised eyebrows. I had a feeling the question was not so offhanded. My heart sank. She didn’t think this was serious. Who possibly shops for a wedding dress seriously 9 months in advance? I made sure my diamond ring was showing.
I gently said, “Actually, in the US where we’re from, I’m very behind.” She was unconvinced. She was the epitome of the Chilean phrase mala onda or bad vibes. Other people we talked to along the way, like a wedding planner we met, tried to address my mom about the wedding instead of me. I remembered that a lot Chileans don’t really consider me an adult or the possibility that I could be running my own show, even at 25.
This all seemed to go along with the strange creeping suspicion that a lot Chileans don’t take Carlos and my engagement seriously, which I think has to do with the prevalence of promise rings and since we weren’t together for 5+ years before getting engaged. There’s a world of difference between a polola (girlfriend) and novia (fiance) in my mind (e.g. one of those you’ve asked to spend your whole life with you) but they seem to conflate the two, especially when they’ve been with their boyfriend or girlfriends longer than I’ve been with Carlos.
The sales lady brought us into a cold, large, curtained off section of a room that was filled with huge mirrors. There was a bench for my family to sit on. She brought a very worn, graying dress that, in my mother’s words, she “wouldn’t even buy at a secondhand shop.”
“Take off your clothes” she told me brusquely. She used the imperative form of the very take off. Chileans use this all the time without it being rude, but in the context of taking off my clothing, I was acutely aware of the fact that it was an order.
My eyes widened. It was clear she meant then and there. This lady was ordering me to strip in front of my modest family and her in this large room, surrounded by mirrors. I don’t remember ever having much modesty myself; a combination of proactive self-love and luck has made me comfortable in my skin, but at that moment I was embarrassed. It was just so unexpected! Well, here we go. This is happening. My family, who didn’t understand the sales lady, were not ready to see me drop my shorts and giggled and exclaimed, “oh, you’re changing here?!” I stood pale under the fluorescent lights in my bra and panties, so glad that I had the good sense to wear conservative underwear. Not to be overly dramatic since I chose to undress voluntarily, but I suddenly gained insight into why nudity is used by oppressors as a tool of subjugation.
I tried on the Miss. Havisham dress, and we pointed out it’s positive aspects. It looked nice, and reminded me of a 1890s saloon girl costume. It was heavy, but the tulle felt cheap. I swished around a bit, thanked her, and asked about the next dress.
“You can only try on one dress unless you put a deposit down to show us that you’re going to buy a dress from us.”
I couldn’t believe it. I even asked again later to make sure I heard her right. Yep. They require a large deposit indicating that you are actually going to buy a dress in order to even try on the second dress.
How ridiculous. Then, she told me the price of that dress, $1400 dollars. That could just be the gringa price, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were charging Chileans $1000 for what should be a $200 dress when it’s new. You’ve got to be kidding me, lady.
We left laughing. I understand that the store is not in a nice area of town and that they probably get ladies trying on dresses without serious marriage plans, but it was still so preposterous. The next place we went to was on the same block and treated us better so I don’t think location is much of an excuse.
The next place we went to, Casa Blanca, was lovely and more of what I would guess is a typical wedding dress shopping experience. We had three gracious, fawning attendants who helped me into each dress, pinned and unpinned the bustle, brought me a pair of heels to use, searched the warehouse for dresses my size (as many as I wanted!), guarded my modesty, and offered sage advice. The bar had been lowered considerably by the previous place, but the Casa Blanca staff definitely exceeded my expectations. The lady at Casa Blanca told me that Chilean ladies are just as modest trying on dresses as I was, if not more, which made me feel like the other lady’s order to strip was absolutely not “just a Chilean thing.” In the end, the nicest, dress I tried on with an 8 foot train and intricate detail work was quoted at $1000, which further reinforces the idea that Punto Clave in el Centro is simply insane.
Overall, our wedding dress trip was a resounding success. My mom and sisters got to see me in several dresses and give input. I got a better idea of what I like and don’t like and got to have a little taste of wedding magic. It was everything I had hoped for, plus, we had an experience that we won’t forget soon.
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Pelo de choclo 