When I walked into the bridal salon for the first time at 55, I was filled with excitement—and a bit of anxiety. I knew I didn’t fit the typical bride stereotype, and the judging glances from the young saleswomen confirmed it.
One of them approached me with fake politeness, warning me not to touch the expensive gowns “with my hands,” implying I didn’t belong. Another tried to steer me toward the clearance rack, clearly assuming I couldn’t afford anything more.
But they had no idea who I was.
Just then, the manager, John, walked in and revealed the truth—they had been rude to the new owner of the boutique. Me. I was marrying the former owner, Mr. Shepherd, and had taken over the business.
Instead of firing them, I gave each of them a lesson: one would serve as my personal assistant, the other would study every dress in the boutique.
They needed to learn that bridal fashion isn’t about price tags or appearances. It’s about helping every bride feel beautiful.
And me? I still had a wedding dress to choose.
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