'In The End, The Wedding Lehenga Was Never Just An Outfit': A Bride’s Reckoning with Love and Excess
Words by Rosa Kumar
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'In The End, The Wedding Lehenga Was Never Just An Outfit': A Bride’s Reckoning with Love and Excess
“I doubt it’s going to be more than $2000,” I told my mom, slightly nervously, as I flipped through lehenga after lehenga of wedding attire, gorgeous pieces with embroidery that told stories of ancient romances, sparkling with beads and crystals and metal coins.
Both my parents squinted past their reading glasses at my laptop.
“My wedding lehenga was das lakh rupaye (about 11685 USD).” My mom reflected affectionately, thinking about the bright fuchsia lehenga she was gifted before her nuptials.
“Book appointment,” my papa said, sitting back and taking off his reading glasses, “We will buy this one, the best one.”
I rolled my eyes at him…and with those same eyes, a week later, I was crying at the boutique in Toronto, watching him tear up when I walked out in my dream lehenga, draped carefully in 30 pounds of embroidery.
We were not allowed to take photos in the store, in case we sent them to our own connections in India to have them copy and recreate the design for a cheaper price. Although their public Instagram marketing images seemed to contradict that rule. Who was I to question it, dressed like a royal side character from Jodhaa Akbar. I could see my mom sitting there, brows furrowed, trying to commit the lehenga to memory.
“This one is $7900,” the salesman said, nonplussed, as the female employees fussed with my drapery, asking me to spin and plying me with compliments and free coffee. I almost didn’t hear him.
“$7900?” Papa kept a poker face, his nose still pink from the emotions of seeing me dressed as a bride for the first time. My mom was indifferent. $79 and $7900 were the same to her. Which was expected. She didn’t even know what a mortgage payment was.
I beelined for the dressing room, quickly changing out of the lehenga, hearing him begin to negotiate with the salesman.
“Absolutely not,” I hissed at him as I got outside, scandalized at the price.
“No, this is the one,” he replied back irritatedly.
In the end, we walked out empty-handed, because that price was sensational. Until we continued shopping. We went to boutique after boutique in the weeks following, trying on lehengas costing between $3000, and, accidentally, $10,000. I was falling victim to wedding culture, my initial $3000 outfit budget for the entire wedding, which I thought was generous, ripped into tatters.
“I’m not having a wedding,” I stubbornly told my parents, getting ready to fake a tragedy to get my venue deposit back after my mom refused to let me buy a lehenga off of Facebook marketplace.
So I had to ask, what made these outfits so expensive? If I was ever going to justify such a purchase, I needed to understand it more.