Sunday, May 27
The Case of the Vanished Bride
A story in which my lack of self confidence is revealed.
Having been in contact with a bride-to-be for many months before the planned nuptials I was surprised and worried when two days before her wedding she vanished.
Over the last year we had emailed frequently, questions and advice on weather conditions, reception venues, florists and hairdressers. As recently as ten days ago I had advised against a daytrip to Ischia from here as the time it woiuld take getting there and back would leave little time to enjoy the island.
Finally the day came when the bride I was to make up arrived. I sent her my phone number and we made vague arrangements to meet up on the Thursday or Friday morning to do a make up test.
Wednesday and Thursday passed by with no word from the bride. By Friday lunchtime I was worried. I called the hotel to find out that she was only staying there after the wedding took place. I had no way of finding her.
By Friday afternoon my lack of self confidence had kicked in. I imagined sabotage! I became convinced that somebody was talking about me in a bad way. I imagined that the bride had been to have a try out at the hairdressers and while there had been convinced by the stylist that I was no good, a terrible disillusioned person. I imagined that the bride had been scared off me so badly that I would never hear from her again.
My reasons for feeling this way were not entirely without reason. The hairdresser in question was the mother of my ex-boss, the one I recently abandoned to reclaim my freedom. If, I thought wildly, someone is badmouthing me and has scared away my bride, they will do it to all my brides and I will never work again!
Fear gripped me and I ran to a friend, who coincidentally had married the week before and whose make up I had done with success. I explained the situation to her and she hugged me and reassured me that I was good at my job, there must be another explanation.
My friend decided to play detective and sloped off to the hairdressers, while I waited, nervously pacing around the piazza. “The case thickens.” She said as she returned, “the hairdresser claimed to have no bookings under the name of the bride.” With uncanny timing the florist appeared and was rapidly questioned by myself. He confirmed that he had flowers ordered for the mysterious bride the very next day.
“Maybe they argued and the wedding was called off?” Somebody offered.
I sighed. “It just seems so strange that she hasn’t called after all the help I gave her. She seemed so nice.”
There was nothing more I could do so I gave up and dejectedly went home, imagining my new career in ruins and the possibility of spending the rest of my life selling clothes in somebody elses shop.
Imagine my relief when at roughly 2130 that evening an email dropped into my inbox from the missing bride.
The poor girl had been rather unlucky. On arriving in Italy she found that her entire baggage, including the wedding dress had been lost, she had been misinformed on the quickest route to Pos, finally arriving at 3am. Her cellphone did not work in Europe, so clothesless and phoneless the last thing on her mind had been a make up test.
Luckily a few hours before the wedding, the cases were found and delivered. The hairdresser found the booking in an obscure diary and after creating a masterpiece of a hair-do, left me with fifteen minutes to transform the bride with my brushes and paints and watch as she glided gracefully, but rather late towards her husband-to-be.
at 2:53 PM