I’ll step into my new life as a “Mrs.” in these… The wedding day shoes are a bid to make me a fun–not frumpy–28 year-old wife…

Get back to me in 10 years and I’ll tell you if I was successful.

My mother claims that a girl can handle two great loves in her life–no more. And, perhaps she’ll never have the luck or constitution to sustain one. According to Mom, the female heart (and sensibility) can expend only so much love, tenderness, passion and warmth. By the same token, that same delicate heart can only withstand its due amount of sadness and betrayal before it becomes cynical and shuts down forever.

For once, I believe my mother and her thoughts on love.

Well thank God for the both of us (and our homespun theories on everlasting amour) that the second wedding dress I tried on was “the one.” Could I have withstood further disappointment, heartache and emergency phone calls to Visa, pleading for a higher credit line?? That first dress would have mandated a newlywed move from Lower Manhattan, out to Staten Island. (Though, that wouldn’t have been so terrible considering the fabulous Italian restaurants on SI…)

The elegant bustle, the sweetheart neckline and the drape of the finely corded silk fabric of my newfound, semi-couture treasure make me feel like a sophisticated Southern bride—not a creampuff. I think every bride–no matter how fashion-forward she might be–wants her groom to melt, smile and then tear up (yes, exactly in that order) when he first glimpses her walking down the aisle, in her wedding gown. Jamie and the dress will not disappoint.

And so, I fell in love with a man. And then I fell in love with a wedding dress. Thank the Lord he was the first, and that dress was the second. I’m still living in Mom’s good graces.

“So this is the story of how I–a Southern girl from the Gulf Coast of nowhere–set out to become a part of it all, an elegant, colorful piece of the Manhattan media puzzle. How I tried to prove Granddaddy, Mamma and their newspaper wrong, make New York City my city, even if nothing was all good or bad or nearly as lovely and depressed as Joan Didion’s essays told me it was going to be. Things would work themselves out, I thought. Life always seemed to have a generous way with me.”

Enough with the free excerpts! Now go out and buy a copy!

My Aunt Kristi was the first person to ask me about my book tour wardrobe. Until then, I hadn’t given it a thought. (This is a Save-My-Sanity measure more than anything else; when your rent is in the $1,000’s and a box of cereal costs you $6, fashion is, unfortunately, an absolute luxury.)

My thought: just pack staples–black pencil skirt, navy blue Chloe blazer, jewel-colored blouses, little black dress, skinny jeans–and make do. You’ll be fine, Brooke. You’re not attending red carpet movie premieres, you’re reading passages from a novel. Chill.

Then I became aquainted with MINT, by Jodi Arnold. Y’all know it? Jodi’s also a Southern girl and her lines are hip, young and unexpected.

One visit to the showroom in the Garment District and I was hooked, they were hooked.

So now, my book tour wardrobe (I feel kinda funny saying that word–it’s as if I’m packing a steamer trunk and going on my European grand tour. Instead, of course, I’m doing a southeastern book tour with my mom!) is all MINT, all the time.

Thank you, Jodi! Thank you, Deenie! You’ve pulled me out my librarian mode and into the realm of chic and stylish (fingers crossed).

My legs might not be as twiggy as Ms. Blonde Thing on the right and my hair might not be as sleek as Ms. Brunette Temptress up top, but my book tour wardrobe will be fun, doggone it!