There's No Place Like Kleinfeld

Once upon a recent Saturday, two wicked(ly awesome) women and a lovely, young bride-to-be met up for an afternoon of fitting and wits, and giggles and glitz. They skipped companionably down West 20th Street, arm in arm, anticipating the exquisite things that lie in store at Number 110.

When the happy trio reached their destination, the eldest detached herself from the other ladies so she could sneak a peek at the treasures in one of the large windows. That’s when a bout of magic hit. Whoosh!

As Bobbi gawped at something on the other side of the glass, the whites of her eyes grew as large as saucers and her pupils turned into swirling green hearts. Then, an eerily familiar song started to fill the air.

“What’s going on?” exclaimed Mindy, looking from one side of the block to the other. “Where’s that music coming from?” She rushed to Bobbi’s side. “Are you okay? Bobbi? Bobbi!”

When she turned her gaze to the display, Mindy beheld the thing that so bewitched her friend. “Oh,” she said in a low voice, “A Very British Affair. Well, that explains it then.”

“What is it?” Jess wondered aloud, as she came up behind her mother and their spellbound cohort. “What do you mean?! Wha…oh! I see.”

After Bobbi picked her jaw up off the sidewalk and swung it over her shoulder, she, Mindy and Jess made their way inside. But they didn’t get very far.

“State your business!” shouted a very agitated and mustachioed concierge.

“We’re here for my noon fitting,” Jess responded. “Is it okay to head downstairs?”

“Nobody can see the great Oz!” declared the insane Gatekeeper of the Gowns. He slammed a hammy fist onto the reception desk for added emphasis.

“WTF are you talking about, dude?!” Mindy countered, reaching across the desk and grabbing the curly-cued ends of his stache. “If you don’t let us through, I will extract this ridiculous soup strainer of yours one hair at a time!”

“Well, why didn’t ya say that in the first place?” said the suddenly chipper-yet-terrified Rip Taylor look-alike. “Go on in!”

 ***

Okay, I admit it. Most of the above account is complete bollocks. But some of it is absolutely true! I did go to Kleinfeld Bridal. I was transfixed by the Royal Wedding-inspired window displays. There is a huge concierge area, and appointments are mandatory.

Later that day, my friend, Karin, asked if I saw Randy and I was all, “Who’s that?” Though I’d heard of the show, I’d never watched “Say Yes to the Dress” so I wasn’t familiar with the program or any of Kleinfeld’s staff. As luck would have it, TLC aired a mini-marathon the following morning and I caught a few episodes. It was neat to see the place on TV. And I felt a kinship with the ladies seated on the l-o-n-g banquette bench in alterations, waiting for a glimpse of the bride in her dream gown. What surprised me was the number of brides who live outside of the New York metropolitan area. But only because I don’t think I’d be up for the series of long-distance trips that fittings would necessitate.

Anyway, the experience was super-fun and very enlightening: Here is a sampling of some of the things I learned that day:

• The alterations staff are whizzes and highly professional! When Jess told them about an adjustment she wanted, they were quick to come up with an amazing, tailor-made option that was even better than she envisioned. How cool is that?!

• Thanks to a series of probing questions to the seamstress, I discovered mature brides are not uncommon. And they can and do wear white or ivory.

• I also learned it’s not unheard of to request extra embellishments or appliqués…like a row of mini Union Jacks or something. (While Marina never knew a bride to request little flags on her gown, it’s good to know you could if you wanted them.)

• Bustling a gown is extraordinarily complicated. There’s math and strings and buttons and teeny tiny loops, which are nearly impossible to manipulate.

• A sparkly, designer, Swarovski crystal-encrusted clutch retails for $2,250.00.

• A striking pendant that could’ve come from the Emerald City itself can be had for slightly less than the wedding gown I purchased in 1984.

• You can say yes to the couture necklace without saying yes to the dress. But be forewarned: Opening an account at Kleinfeld is a BFD. I decided to buy a luscious piece by Renee Pawele who happened to be at the store for a trunk show. I was paying for it in full, so I was sort of surprised when I was asked if I had an account. “No, sorry,” I told Ms. Pawele and a salesperson. “Is that a problem?” They looked at each other, then at me, then at each other again. “No, not at all,” said the saleslady. “Who is the bride?” When I told her, she asked if I could just go ahead and put my necklace on Jess’ account because it would be easier.

• Cash registers are extraneous. (Jess had to sign a contract or warrant or a treaty or something after I paid for the necklace in a little, private room. So paying for stuff is also a BFD.)

•  The Good Stuff Diner’s City Frittata is so very tasty and a great option for a girl with a (diet) plan.