Working With a Bridal Stylist Is Wedding Dress Therapy

When I first started working at Vogue in 2014, I was given an assignment to create a dream wedding collage. Mine was themed around an infinity vodka fountain, a nitrate-filled cornucopia of pastrami, and a never-ending party. So what was I wearing to my “cheap and easy” fictional wedding? A short dress with long sleeves and Doc Martens. I wrote at the time, “After all, they are sturdy, dependable, and last forever—which is something I can’t 100 percent predict for the marriage.” 

Frisky jokes aside—hey, a wedding felt so far off back then!—I’m now getting married. Along the way, my vision has changed. I’m having a traditional Orthodox Jewish ceremony in which much of my body needs to be covered. No saucy, thigh-showing moments for me. Stumped about what to wear now, I called my former coworker Anny Choi who has become a bridal stylist. 

Choi began styling with Over the Moon, a bridal platform created by Vogue Weddings Editor Alexandra Macon. Initially hired to write shopping articles for the website, Choi admits that styling was, “never my plan.” During the pandemic, Choi began seeing a shift in the industry. Dresses were locked up in Saks Fifth Avenue; Weddings got smaller, even for those couples who had always planned on a blowout. “People had to have not-so-traditional weddings where they had to find something off the rack that still felt bridal, that wasn’t made-to-order,” Choi said. She was tasked with filling in the sartorial gaps for brides who had long been accustomed to more traditional, large weddings. Now, Choi describes the post-pandemic industry as having “blown up” to the point where she officially launched her business in early 2023. 

When I spoke to Choi while walking around the city en route to an appointment, I explained to her my tricky state. A few months ago on a whim, I bought a tiny vintage Thierry Mugler skirt suit for $250 on eBay. I love Mugler’s extreme wasp waists, and how a skirt suit feels both traditional and nontraditional. But much to the chagrin of my eBay haggling skills, I will follow the traditional Jewish laws of modesty and be covered from collarbone to ankle. What’s a bride to do? 

I was in good hands. For her clients—including doctors, lawyers, PhD students, fashion editors, and PR professionals—Choi will curate a wardrobe that encompasses the bridal shower, bachelorette, rehearsal dinner, honeymoon, afterparty, engagement photo shoot, civil ceremony, and more. (Choi prices each project individually, and anyone can reach out to her via her website or Instagram.) She’s worked with small weddings, big weddings, destination weddings, and themed weddings. (“I had a Halloween wedding once with masquerade”). The bridal industry, Choi explains, is valued at over $70 billion dollars, and an individual celebration can require a roster of outfit changes, depending on the number of events, the location, and the season. With so many options decision making can be overwhelming. “At a certain point, there is decision fatigue and you just don’t have the time to look,” she said. Many of her clients come to her at different stages of their weddings. Some approach her immediately after engagement, while others may have their wedding dress but don’t know what to wear for events surrounding the big day. Either way, they need guidance, just like I did. 

While the idea of a bridal stylist may sound like someone simply browsing the internet and clicking “add to cart,” Choi insists that isn’t the case. The bridal soothsayer, who describes her personal style as “Aritzia meets Chanel”, is a friend and therapist to her brides—one with incredible fashion chops. (Popular and legendary opinion: Choi was known for having the best taste at Vogue). Much of Choi’s job is to hold the client’s hand through the process. “I curate, pre-curate, and edit for the client so it is the best of the best and they aren’t endlessly scrolling before bed or work,” said Choi. “I joke that a lot of what I do is wedding therapy.” Every detail is considered; Choi refers to her attention to detail as the equivalent of a bride as having her very own Vogue September cover shoot. “You want each shot to stand out on its own and tell a cohesive story.” 

Choi supports her clients by being perfectly honest (“sometimes people around you will tell you everything looks amazing no matter what”), offering a more technical perspective, like knowing the right tailor or heading to a fabric store in New York’s Garment District (“If you want sleeves, I’ll go to Mood Fabrics to make sure it matches the dress”), and even mapping out post-appointment drinks with brides and their mothers (“Stop at the Carlyle for a coffee or the Polo Bar for a drink with mom…those personal touches are important”). And unlike friends who might suffer from Q+A bridal exhaustion, Choi is always available. “At a certain point, you can’t annoy your friends!” She elaborated, “as a bridal stylist, I’m your best friend. I’m by your side. I’m with you through this process six months to a year. I take more time to learn more about the bride as a person, beyond someone who is getting married. I’ll ask what the client’s hobbies are, their personal style, what the partner-to-be is like, how the couple met, and more.” 

Choi has known me for years, so her first question to me was about the wedding itself and what it would look like: a ‘70s-style synagogue hall in Brooklyn with decoration inspiration from the shotgun wedding in Riding in Cars with Boys. (No flowers, just streamers. Let’s see how that goes over with my mother.) Based on what I initially wanted for clothes—that removed-rib Mugler look but with Yentl restrictions—Choi collected reference photos after our consultation. Her three-page moodboard for me consisted of ’80s and ’90s runway images of Mugler’s nipped white blazers, an editorial moment of Linda Evangelista in all-white skirt suit with sculpted shoulders, and Michelle Pfeiffer’s white skirt suit in Scarface, arm-in-arm with Tony Montana. 

As for a designer who could do the job? I thought about Svitlana Bevza, of the Ukraine-based label Bevza. I reviewed and profiled Bevza for years at Vogue and know her work intimately: While Bevza does not specialize in bridal, her pieces—often white, austere, and supremely elegant—possess the tenderness and severity that I wanted for my look. While Choi would typically reach out to a ready-to-wear designer on the bride’s behalf, given my relationship with Bevza, I simply connected Choi in an email with Bevza. 

Still, Choi has her work cut out for her. After she sent the designer my three-page moodboard, Choi explained to me that while I have a “very clear vision of what you want,” she would still need to be involved in the nitty-gritty design and liasoning process. “I’ll be helping through logistics: like, will she do a prototype for you or go straight into the design? Will she do tailoring after or is she going to ship it to you and will we make alterations in New York City?,” Choi said. While Choi assured me everything would go smoothly, the mention of shoes made me shudder. That was the last matrimonial accoutrement on my mind. “Oh, I’ll be helping you scour The RealReal and eBay for shoes,” she told me. Turns out, Choi already had me covered.