One measure of the anxiety that the bride produces for feminist critics is her conspicuous absence from the current theory on fashion and beauty culture. Among the recent titles on fashion and beauty, there are odes to the shoe, the hat, and underwear, histories of lipstick, cosmetics, and fetish wear, but nothing on the wedding industry. The bride is not a sexy topic. A notable exception to the feminist silence on brides and bridal fashion is Naomi Wolf's 1994 confessional essay, Brideland.' Wolf, author of The Beauty Myth, tells all about her descent into Brideland-the fantasy world of romance, riches, and ruffles created by bridal magazines to induct women into the market for the specialized attire, products, and services that she will need to plan a successful wedding and begin her married life.2 Following her engagement, Wolf picks up such a magazine, curious about the conventions she plans to spurn. After thirty-two pages, her vision of a civil or alternative ceremony so creatively subversive that it would be virtually unrecognizable (p. 37) as a wedding is swept away by a picture of The Dress she had to have, with an eighteenth-century bodice, three-quarter-length sleeves, and ankle-length skirt with voluminous panniers (p. 38). I identify with Wolf's experience. When I came out as a lesbian, the only thing I regretted was my chance to be a bride. Within months I had decided there was no reason to sacrifice that fashion moment. I anticipated that when the happy day arrived, I would be the last word in bridal sophistication, evoking perhaps the glamour of 1930s Hollywood or the pillboxhat chic of the 1960s-not for me the top of the wedding cake look that is the standard fare in many bridal shops. Ten years later, I met the girl. We set a date. Then, skimming the latest issue of Modern Bride, Cinderella gowns with yards of fabric beckoned. Tiaras were back and a big updo was a must. I needed hair extensions to elevate my pixie cut to bridal proportions. Hair, a woman's crowning glory, was essential part of the bridal ensemble. There are two basic bridal hair styles, the updo and the Rapunzel look. The teaspoon full of hair on my head would not suffice. What would hold up my tiara? Where would I affix my veil? How could I sprinkle flowers in hair two inches long? Without elaborate coiffure or flowing locks, short-haired models look unfinished, shorn of real beauty. In the dozens of magazines I scoured, the only model I saw with hair like mine