The Bridal Shower

The bridal shower tradition is said to have originated in Holland, after a village showered a couple with household gifts prior to their wedding because the bride's father disapproved of the groom and refused to provide a dowry.

In all my 30-odd years, I'd never been to a bridal shower. Even my own. (It's possible I'd never been invited to one because there's always a high-blunder danger when I'm around.) What I didn't know prior to attending a recent shower was that these get-togethers have themes. Yes, it might be a kitchen tea, a lingerie shower, a garden shower, et cetera, et cetera (read all about them here; I wish I had). Guests are expected to give a gift appropriate for the theme.

Now, the invitation I received read "an afternoon tea party in the garden." Okay. So, I do like the bride very much, but I don't know her very well. I was aware, though, that she has every household item known to woman, she doesn't like clutter, and she likes pink. (Hmm, I know her better than I thought.) What the hell was I supposed to get her?

Believe it or not, I was clued up enough to know that gift certificates and cash are no-no's. And I knew I had to get "something for the home." I settled on a room spray from a premium French brand, thinking I'd covered all the bases--it was compact enough to stash in my handbag, expensive, smelled lovely, and it was pink. I even threw in some lip gloss--also French, compact, expensive, smelled lovely, pink.

At the bridal shower, as guests arrived, my heart sank as each elegantly dressed woman walked in carrying massive parcels. "Oh, no," I thought. "Everyone bought a Kenwood appliance except me. Why didn't Blunder Woman think of purchasing a blender for the bride-to-be? And why am I wearing jeans when everyone else looks like a Calvin Klein model?" Throughout the afternoon I glanced at my little pink gift box, kicking myself for being so cheap. (I swear, the gift was imported from France; it says so on the box.)

Throughout the actual tea party, I had a running commentary of do's and don'ts going on in my head. "Do eat at least one item from every plate. Don't stir your tea and then dip the wet teaspoon into the sugar bowl--you can live with a bitter tea taste for one day. Aren't the ribbon-wrapped bundles of silverware cute? Which one's mine? Oh, whoops, I've been using the hostess's dessert fork all this time. God, I hope the b-t-b doesn't open the gifts in front of everybody. Oh, no, the hostess wants us to watch the gift-giving ceremony. But I haven't finished the cake she goaded me to eat. Everyone else's plate is empty except mine.")

As each gift was unwrapped carefully, the hostess noted down names of the gifters and what they gave (this, I've learned, is proper procedure during a shower). Baking trays, muffin tins, cake forms, recipe books... Hmm, I was beginning to pick up on a KITCHEN THEME!

When my present was unwrapped, the very gracious b-t-b told me how much she loved the brand. I said something stupid like, "You can spray it around when you're getting ready for the wedding," which was met with silence from the others. I kept saying to myself, "It's for the home. It's very expensive. It's pink!!! No one else bought anything pink!" When a package of tea towels was revealed, I felt a little better about my gift-buying skills. But still, even tea towels are kitcheny. Nobody uses room spray in the kitchen unless they're trying to disguise the scent of burnt chicken parmigiana.

I reached for the champagne and toasted my Blunderbility.

Which was a bit of a mistake. No, I didn't get drunk. But I did get car sick. In the b-t-b's car.

How does this rate on the scale of Blunderbility? High, Medium or Low? What can Blunder Woman do to make up for this faux pas?