A/N – This is part of what will eventually be the Epic Ferbnessa Wedding Saga. (You should also go read "The One That Says Ferb and Vanessa" if you haven't, as well as the final chapter, "Plane," from "Vignettes a la Carte.") In the episode "Candace's Big Day," Candace tells Mom & Aunt Tiana to "go to Tri-State Bridal and ask for Olga," so I grabbed that reference and ran with it. Of course Vanessa and Charlene belong to Povenmire & Marsh.
Thumbs Down to the Gown – Part One
Vanessa Doofenshmirtz entered the Chamber of Tortures, fighting the urge to shield her eyes against the blinding whiteness. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this," she muttered.
"Oh, hon, give it a chance," her mother encouraged brightly, looping an arm through hers and steering her toward the gold-flecked alabaster counter at the front of the shop. The platinum-beehived woman stationed there greeted them with a gleaming smile.
"Welcome to Tri-State Bridal! How may we help with your blissful day?"
Mom was practically glowing as she proclaimed, "We have an appointment with Olga. Vanessa Doofenshmirtz."
The receptionist checked the pale pink pages spread in front of her and took up a feathery pen to draw a tiny heart beside the name. "Of course. Please have a seat, and Olga will be right with you."
The two women perched side by side on the gold and ivory settee. Vanessa could feel her mother quivering with excitement, like a child clutching a golden ticket to the world's most amazing candy factory. Too bad she wasn't the bride. Ever since Vanessa and Ferb had officially announced their engagement to their families, Charlene Doofenshmirtz had talked and gushed and blathered about taking Vanessa to pick out a wedding gown. Never mind that Vanessa had an aversion to billowing taffeta and glittery tulle, never mind that she and Ferb were already planning something 'non-traditional,' Mom would not stop poring over bridal magazines and pulling out pictures of ballgowns and beading and bustled trains. This was going to be a long day.
They had been waiting for only a few minutes when a woman draped in shades of peach came out to meet them. "Ah, here is my beautiful bride!" she exclaimed, speaking with the carefully-preserved remains of a Russian accent. "I am Olga." She was older than Charlene and shorter than both of them, with sleek black hair drawn up in a bun and a demeanor that hinted at some cross between an aging prima ballerina and a drill sergeant.
"Charlene Doofenshmirtz," the proud mother pounced on her. "This is my daughter, Vanessa." Two maternal hands clamped onto Vanessa's shoulders and gave her a tender shake.
"Hi," Vanessa murmured, half-smiling, half-wincing at her mother's enthusiasm.
Olga examined the bride-to-be with an appraising glint in her eye. "You are in good hands now. Come. We shall make you gorgeous."
As the Doofenshmirtz ladies followed their guide into the salon, Olga asked, "Are we expecting any others? Bridesmaids? The Mother-in-Law?"
"No, just us," Vanessa answered.
"Good," the woman said. "Too many opinions. We do not want unnecessary distractions today. Tell me about your fiance."
"Well, his name is Ferb Fletcher," Vanessa began, "and he's…"
"Ferb?" Olga stopped in her tracks at the name. "The Ferb who is the brother of Phineas Flynn?"
The future Mrs. Fletcher had to stop herself from bristling at the way the question was phrased. Ferb might not have minded, but it annoyed her that he was constantly relegated to second billing. "Ferb has a brother named Phineas, yes."
"When is the happy day?"
"August Fifteenth, next year. I know it's a long way off," Vanessa began, but Olga stopped her.
"It is much closer than you think! Too many brides come to me at the last minute, six months, six weeks, there is no time! They must take something from the rack and I must work a miracle for them! I do work the miracles," she noted proudly. "But, for you, they will be better, because you have given me time."
"I've been trying to drag her in here since last fall," Charlene confided.
Olga nodded her approval of this motherly wisdom as she led them into the wonderland of bridal fashion. Overwhelmed by the layers of gowns packed together on the racks, Vanessa had no idea where to start, but Mom made a beeline to the first bulging skirt she saw.
"Oh, honey!" She lifted the hanger from the rack and tulle went everywhere. "You have to try this one!"
"Mom, we already talked about this, I'm not looking for some poofy princess dress."
"Now, how do you know you won't like it until you try it on?" Charlene coaxed. "Oh, look, it sparkles!" she breathed, holding it in the light.
"Great," grumbled Vanessa. "A poofy sparkly princess dress. Just give me a little Rainbow Fairy wand and I'm all set."
At this point, Olga swept in, taking the dress from Charlene and steering her back out toward a sitting area in the salon. "Mama, you take a nice seat out here and let your beautiful daughter surprise you."
"But – but –" Charlene looked plaintively back at the multitude of gowns.
The woman gently but firmly hushed her and said, "You trust Olga." And, with that, Charlene was left waiting while Vanessa and the bridal consultant had the run of the racks.
"Thank you," said Vanessa once they were alone. "She's gone totally mental about this dress thing! Seriously, do I look like the fairy princess type?"
Olga did not reply to this, but collected the sparkly ballgown and two others similar to it, and motioned for Vanessa to follow her. "Come, we try these on you."
"Wait," she protested, "didn't you hear me? I don't want those."
"I heard," said Olga calmly. "But you will try them on." When Vanessa folded her arms and stood her ground, the woman explained, "When you were little girl, you played with dolls, yes? Dressing them in pretty clothes?"
More like coloring their hair with markers and cutting up their clothes, but… "Well, yeah," Vanessa conceded.
"Today is the happiest day of your mother's life. Not the wedding day, today. You are her dress-up doll, and she has come to see you in pretty gowns. Besides," Olga marched her into the changing room, "if you do not try on the ballgown, she will not accept what you want. It will always be this." Olga made big, sad eyes and moaned in a voice Vanessa could definitely hear coming out of her mother, "'Oh, if only you had tried on the baaallgown, oh the baaallgown would be so much more beautiful!' Do not fear," Olga gave her bride's arm a sympathetic pat. "It will be over soon."
Surrendering her dignity, Vanessa got out of her clothes. Olga was pleased to see that she had planned ahead and come wearing the proper strapless foundation garments. Yeah, and the underwire is killing me, Vanessa wanted to gripe. She managed to get into the sparkly-skirted gown without smothering herself, and tugged at the neckline as Olga fastened the silver-beaded bodice up the back with plastic clips.
"This is not going to stay up," Vanessa fretted.
"It will stay," the woman assured her. "If you do not pull at it," she added, shooing away the meddling hands. "Straight and tall," Olga pressed the small of her back to adjust her posture. "And smile!"
Vanessa regarded herself in the mirror. The bodice cut straight across her chest – Might as well have just wrapped a towel around myself – and the shimmery silver band was cinched around her waist. The huge skirt was sprinkled with tiny silver beads and sequins, and it really did scream out for a glittery wand and tiara. There was something vaguely familiar about the reflection looking back at her, and Vanessa's eyes went wide with horrified amusement when she realized: I look like Isabella!
Forcing a smile, Vanessa paraded out to the small sitting area where her mother waited. She stifled a shudder when she saw how Mom's eyes lit up at the sight of her, clutching at her heart in delight. "Oh, Vanessa! Oh, it's so pretty! Turn around, turn around," she twirled an eager hand, "let me see!" The buoyant skirt bobbed and swayed as Vanessa made a circle and her mother clapped lightly, unable to restrain herself. Was Mom actually giggling?
"Mama, you are very fortunate," Olga beamed. Drawing closer to Charlene, she confided in a lowered voice, "They say that all brides are beautiful, but…" She wagged a finger in denial of this. "Your daughter is truly a beautiful young lady. I could close my eyes, put her in any gown from the rack, and she would look stunning. This one," she regarded the sparkly ballgown with a critical eye, "is pretty, but we can do better! You will see."
Olga motioned for Vanessa and herded her back into the changing room.
"Ugh, she loves it," Vanessa groaned.
"No," said Olga, unclipping the back of the gown. "No, she does not." When Vanessa gave her a dubious look, the woman explained. "There were no tears. She sees only a pretty sparkly dress on her doll, not her little girl as a bride. When you are in the right dress, the dress that is yours, there will be tears. For now, we humor her, then she will forget about the 'poofy princess dress.' You do not like sparkles, so we try this one."
Olga got her out of the first gown and into another one of the same general bell-skirted shape. There were no sparkles this time, no rhinestones or beading, just a narrow band and small rosette of white silk at the waist. The tulle layers of the skirt floated around her like a cloud, and the gauzy bodice criss-crossed over Vanessa's chest, making a V. If she had been worried about a wardrobe malfunction before, this gown made her feel even more exposed. Olga swatted at her hands and commanded, "Stop pulling!"
"I'm going to fall out of this," Vanessa insisted.
"You have a bust," Olga pointed out, as if this was necessary. "Other girls would kill for such a figure. There," she adjusted the last clip, and Vanessa faced the mirror.
I look like a refugee from Swan Lake. Actually, she considered, turning herself for a better view, she looked a bit like something from a Degas painting, which was not the worst comparison she could have imagined. She still didn't think the stark white favored her pale skin, and she really did feel as if her chest might pop out of the bodice at any moment, but it was at least an improvement over the Fairy Princess gown.
"It's a little plain," was Charlene's response when Vanessa tiptoed out to display herself. "Not that you don't look pretty," she was hasty to add, "but – "
"It's okay, Mom, it's not my favorite, either," Vanessa breathed a sigh of relief.
"She should have something with more drama," Olga decreed, and they retreated again to the changing room.
"I really hate the strapless," Vanessa insisted, getting out of the ballerina gown.
"Then you will not mind this." Olga swapped the discarded gown for another. The floaty ballgown skirt was much like the previous dress, and the bodice still had a slight dip to it, but this time there was a rhinestone-encrusted sash, like a cascade of frozen leaves, that came over her right shoulder and across her chest, ending at the left side of her waist.
This time, Vanessa made no effort to keep her opinion to herself. "I look like Miss Antarctica. Oh, just get me out of this," she groaned. "I've played dress-up for Mom long enough."
Olga made a tut-tut sound of refusal. "This is the last, then she will be finished. Come. You will see."
Marching out in the pageant gown, Vanessa put her hands on her hips and struck a gloomy pose.
"Well, it is more dramatic," said Charlene. "But… you know, honey, Olga's right, you're going to look beautiful in anything, but I really don't think that ballgown shape is right for you. It's really more of a 'little girl' look, and after all, you are a grown woman. And you have such a nice figure, it's just buried under those dresses."
"Mama, you have a good eye," Olga agreed. "Come," she summoned the bride, "we will try something different."
Back among the racks, Vanessa gave the wise woman a dry smile and conceded, "Okay, you were right. Now can we talk about what I want? Or don't want?"
"No sparkles, no strapless, no poofy princess skirts," Olga answered, sorting through gowns and plucking hangers.
"Yeah, that's part of it, but – don't bring this up in front of Mom, because she'll just want to argue about it, but Ferb and I are getting married in Paris."
Olga raised an eyebrow. "She does not know this?"
"Oh, she knows, she's just in denial. She thinks we're being silly and we'll come to our senses and have it at the Walworth or the Art Museum or something."
"So it is a destination wedding?" This news prompted the woman to select another dress. "Why Paris?"
Because eleven years ago I bailed on Ferb and left him standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower and I want to make it up to him, thought Vanessa, but she didn't feel like going into that now and simply said, "It's romantic."
"Hm." Olga was preparing the new gown for her, but her tone was the same as Mom's, in that indulgent, dismissive way that said, Sooner or later, you'll come to your senses. "This, you will like," she remarked, as Vanessa donned the new dress. "Simple, yet elegant."
To its credit, the gown was neither strapless nor poofy, but a slim, sleeveless sheath in a milky white satin, ornamented only with a subtle spray of flowers at the hip. Olga fastened it up the back, then gathered Vanessa's shoulder-length hair and with a swift twist, clipped it behind her head. "It requires an up-do for the proper effect," the woman explained, ushering her out to the salon.
"Oh, honey, you look like a movie star!" was her mother's reaction. "So glamorous!"
Vanessa turned herself from side to side, appraising her own reflection. She wished the dress had a bit more shape to it. Granted, she didn't have to worry about falling out of it, and it was better than the ballgowns, but… "It's just so… white."
"Well, of course it's white," Mom answered, with a don't be silly smile. "It's a wedding gown."
"It's just not my style," she tried to explain. "All these gowns – They're just not me."
Charlene's eyes flew open in alarm as she declared, "Vanessa Doofenshmirtz, you are not getting married in black!"
"Nobody said anything about black, Mom," Vanessa groaned. It had been years since she had cocooned herself in the old monochromatic wardrobe, but of course that was the first thing her mother thought of. "I'd just like a little color, that's all."
"Perhaps something in a blush," Olga proposed.
Vanessa translated this with a glum look. "You mean… pink?"
"It can be a flattering shade for a young lady of your coloring," said Olga.
"Give it a try, hon," Charlene seconded.
"All right," Vanessa gave in. "One more gown. But that's it for today."
"But, honey, you've only tried…"
Olga intervened, "Mama, we should not exhaust our bride on the first appointment. It is overwhelming, and she must have time to think before making such an important decision. Come," she collected Vanessa. "One more gown for today, in a pretty color."
Back in the racks, Olga pulled another dress. "It has ruffles," she warned. "But also glamorous. You will be stunning."
Vanessa didn't mind some ruffles, or even a little lace, and she perked up with curiosity when she saw the gown produced for her approval. On the down side, it was decidedly pink, she thought, as she stepped into it. But, on the plus side, it was a mermaid shape that hugged her curves in a smooth, silky embrace, with a one-shouldered bodice that flattered her without threatening to expose too much. Just above her knees, a pink satin band wrapped around her, ornamented with a satin bow shaped into a large rose. The bottom of the skirt blossomed out in angled layers of ruffles, hemmed in more bands of pink satin, and blooming with two more ripe pink roses. She had to admit, the shape suited her figure, and the dress was pretty. She just wished it had been some other color.
Hobbling out to show her mother, Vanessa was acutely aware of the gown's main drawback. It was challenging to walk in. It would certainly be difficult to traipse all over Paris in. She actually reached out for Olga's hand to steady herself as she stepped up onto the platform in front of the mirror.
"Oh, I'm breathless," Charlene put a hand to her chest. "You look like Ginger Rogers!"
The gown did remind Vanessa of the romantic old movies she and Ferb had watched on television, on the New Year's Eve she'd had a cold and he had come over to keep her company. She could imagine herself in his arms, dancing to some 1930s song – well, if she could dance in the gown without toppling over. Hands on hips, she swayed this way and that, still indecisive.
"Does it come in anything other than pink?" she asked, then corrected herself. "I mean, blush?"
"White," said Olga, with a pointed look.
"Of course," muttered Vanessa. If she and Ferb had been getting married at the Art Museum… If the dress had been some other color – blue, maybe…? If it hadn't been so restricting… If, If, If. She looked over her shoulder and asked, in the voice of a lost little girl, "Mom…?"
"It's beautiful, honey – you look beautiful. But, you don't have to decide today."
Vanessa gazed into her mother's eyes. She saw happiness, admiration, sympathy… but not one tiny glint of a tear. With a sigh, half-decisive, half-disappointed, the young woman said, "Thanks, Olga. I think we'll keep looking."
To be continued…
