Monthly Archives: May 2011

Paging Dr. Freud.

I had a crazy dream last night. 

And it has nothing to do with my wedding, so I probably shouldn’t post about it here. 

But have you ever had a dream that you just can’t shake?  That replays over and over in your head all day & you feel compelled to tell people about because on some level there has to be a greater significance, even if you can’t put your finger on it in its entirety?

I woke up Richie at 2 am last night to tell him about it (A HA! Some blog topic relevance!) and he thought it was very twilight zone episode cool.  And while I thought that was his sleepy, mumbling response, he, too, remembered my dream in the morning and we talked about it again.

Maybe it’s weird to share a bizarre piece of my subconscious with you guys.  Especially since you probably just came here to read about dresses and flowers and venues and veils.  But I’m nothing if not excruciatingly honest (uh, see my CD lyrics), so what the eff.  I wont judge you for mocking.

Here goes.

I was at a club, feeling unusually down (note: I’m an EXCEEDINGLY and genuinely happy person like 99% of the time…and that other 1% is like clockwork to a certain couple days of the month).  A college friend I haven’t spoken to in years (Mandi, I’m totally talking about you) took me aside & told me she could show me something special, but hinted that it was going to be difficult to handle.  I took her hand and we walked into the basement of the club.  It was so dark and there were sporadic groups of people.  I started to feel so much pain & sorrow in my heart.  Overwhelming.  It wasn’t even specific to anything, it was just a collection of the sorrows we all carry around within us, our burdens.  On a small dim stage were dancers dressed in black.  When it was my turn, I pushed through the crowd, right up in front of the stage.  And something strange happened.

The dancers pulled from me every ounce of sorrow.  They took it all.  And they performed it.  They danced the exact pain I was holding in my heart.  And as they did it, I was free.  I felt lighter than I ever had, watching the visualization of my sadness.  We all stood in silence and watched, the intensity of each dance unique to the person whose pain was fueling it.  Mine was beautiful and intense and enlightening- I understood myself more in that moment than I ever had.   And in the midst of the beauty and freedom of the dancers carrying my pain, there came crashing down on me a horrible realization- that as they concluded, they would have to give my experiences back to me.  I would have to take it all back in.  And now, as I’d seen it performed on a stage with my own eyes, I’d have to carry the layered knowledge of just how intense my sorrow was. 

I looked at Mandi in a questioning panic and she squeezed my hand.  Her eyes were sad and she nodded.  The dancers finished.  I closed my eyes and felt my chest tighten as everything I dreaded reentered my consciousness.  It was all the more horrifying now that I knew the full visual scope of everything I carried around inside, and now that I had felt a few precious moments of life without any of it.

And as I left, I couldn’t decide if ignorance had been bliss or if I was better off with this new knowledge.

What do you think it all means?!

PS- I did fall asleep after drinking a full pitcher of sangria.  So, you know, there’s that.


SAY WHAT?! to the dress.

I’ve never watched one bridal dress show in my entire life.  Seriously.  Never.

Until yesterday, when I realized I’d be taking my mom with me to this magical fairy land I keep hearing about called “Kleinfeld” which, apparently, is the home base to TLC’s wildly popular “Say Yes To The Dress”  So I tivo’d it.  And watched this completely foreign collection of bratty brides, demanding mothers, pushy sales people & trillion-dollar piles of fussy white fabric.

Why does all this freak me out?!

I’ve already told you how completely overwhelming this whole process is to me.  Unlike the girlie girls who grew up dreaming of their big day and have magazine clippings and full sketches of some giant poofy white thing they’re obsessed with, I had ZERO idea what I wanted in a dress.  I know more what I don’t like than what I do.  Generally, I “Say Eff No To The Dress”.

So, I made an appointment (Yup. I know. Seriously. You have to.), and checked in with the concierge at the front desk while my mom & I waited in the grand lounge (where the hell AM I?!).  I was relieved when a completely cute & non-intimidating chick named Jillian got us and walked us through a show room of frothy white sh*t to her private office SLASH dressing room.

Jillian sat us down & we talked.  I showed her pictures of our venue & told her how I thought the distinctive vibe of the location should influence the kind of dress I wore.  She took a couple notes, told me to strip down, handed me a silk robe & sashayed out of the room.  Mom & I looked at each other.  I’d call her look excited anticipation.  I assume my look was somewhere along the lines of uncomfortable curiosity.

Jillian came back with 5 dresses & clamped me in them.  Literally…clamped them as tight as they would go.  I felt crazy skinny.  I’m considering investing in real life skinny clamps, perhaps we can bring them into fashion.  The first dress was stunning.  It took me a minute to process how beautiful it was.  I don’t know what I thought it would feel like to look in a mirror with a wedding dress on, but I wasn’t prepared.  It caught me off guard & took my breath away a bit. 

We tried on more.  Jillian told me to think out loud, to tell her everything I was thinking, what about the dress I loved & hated.  Every time she came back, her choices got better.  I was starting to get some clarity on what I liked.  And before long, I’d narrowed it down to two. Ironically (and despite the continuously improving dress choices) I just couldn’t get the first one I’d tried on out of my head.

She had me try my favorite two dresses on again & head out to the main gallery mirror on the showroom floor.  I felt really…something I can’t describe…walking around in those dresses, walking past the other brides’ families and bridesmaids, past the salesgirls and stepping onto the raised platform under the perfect light in front of the full length mirror.  Jillian put a veil on my head, and I have to admit it…I got teary.  This whole thing is real.  I’m really getting married.  Made me think of what my dad’s reaction will be when he sees me like this.  What Richie’s will be.  I don’t know, the whole thing…it just got to me.  I could see my mom tearing up too.

Officially the girliest moment of my life.  Sigh.

I didn’t buy the dress.  I “Said Maybe To The Dress”.  I love them, but I want to see more.  I love Irina Shabayeva’s designs so much – she & I went out for drinks last week & talked about her designing something custom for me, which is a HUGE honor.  And I’ve gotten emails from a couple designers who are interested in dressing me, I need to look into everything & be sure I’m making the right decision.  But that first dress is still haunting me.  We’ll shall see.

I can at least say I wasn’t horrified by the experience (wait! I mean “Say Not Horrified By The Dress”).  It was actually kinda cool.  It’s all starting to sink in. 

I’m gonna be a bride 🙂


Now that we’ve survived the Rapture & the wedding’s still on, I figured it was time to get back to blogging.

So, it’s one week since the engagement announcement.  And what a week it’s been!  If you missed any of the excitement, I gotta give some big props to one of my FAVORITE twitter feeds, @SternShow – if you’re on twitter & not following them, stop what you’re doing right now and go follow.

I’ll wait.

Awesome. You’ll thank me later.

And incase you no-speak-a the twitter, I’ll “retweet”  (read: copy/paste) their posts from the news department about the engagement, mostly because I completely love these audio links.

Stern Show:  Listen to H100 News: Robin’s self help tapes teach her about men & relationships and Rachel & Richie get engaged.     (story & staff reactions start at 2:30)

Stern Show: Listen to H100 News: Rachel Fine describes the moment Howard TV’s Richie Wilson proposed to her.
Stern Show: Listen to H100 News: Ronnie & Richie go ring shopping, backstage with Scott Weiland, and no more Jerry Lewis telethons.
It’s wild to have such a private moment in life be such a public roller coaster, but I’ve adapted and even come to appreciate it.  You’ve been there for the rough times, it’s nice to share the celebrations. We got so many nice tweets, facebook messages, blog comments and website emails from strangers congratulating us- it was surprisingly touching. 
I have a ton of wedding planning updates to give you, but I’ve got 17 trillion things to do today and no more blog time.   I will say I’m having drinks with one of my FAVORITE designers tonight (hint, you’ve seen me covering her red carpets at New York Fashion Week…).  Nothing for sure yet, but I definitely want to take a look at her bridal line…
Thanks again for all the love 🙂  You guys are awesome.
 ps- think we can push off wedding bills til the day after the Mayan calendar ends?

FINE! Change?!

I decided to blog.  I’ve been thinking about it for a while but I never knew exactly what I wanted to talk about. 

And then Richie asked me to marry him last week. 

So instead of freaking out the random strangers I’ve grabbed in a panic to talk about wedding do’s and dont’s, I thought it was the perfect time to take to the blogosphere for some sanity.

Step one was naming this thing.   You can’t have a last name like “Fine” (which YES, is my real last name- and YES, sucked as an awkward kid) without exploiting it in titles whenever possible.  That was a given.  Here were some title contenders:


(My issue here was that I’m not the chick who has been pressuring the dude for years to marry her …or even dreamed of weddings as a little girl…& I felt like “FINEally!!!!!!” implied that.  Although it’s almost awesome, so I was on the fence for a minute.)

“FINE. I’ll marry you.”

(This one sounds less enthusiastic than I am.  Like it should be read with an exasperated sigh.  No bueno.)

“FINE. Be that way.”

(I’m not gonna lie.  I always assumed if I had a blog, that’s what I’d name it.  It’s so sassy!  I want to snap in a Z-formation!  But it really had nothing to do with a wedding, so…maybe you’re looking at THE TITLE OF THE NEXT GREAT BLOG I WRITE?!?  EH…??  Ok, getting ahead of myself.  It doesn’t work for this one and I need to stay focused.)

And then Richie suggested “A Fine Change”.  And I knew we were close.  I enjoy multiple meanings, particularly those impacted by punctuation.  Here’s what’s cool about “Fine Change” as it relates to getting hitched:

A) It IS a fine change in my life! I’m excited about it!  -> Fine change!

B) The idea of marriage is a HUGE adjustment for me.  I’m just not domestic in any way & I totally identify with being an independent woman. Fine, I want to marry you…but I’m gonna have to learn to change a bit. -> Fine…change.

C) Wait! Do I have to change my last name, Fine?! -> Fine? CHANGE??

(do you see how cool this is getting?)

D) (read in self-talk voice) “Fine, it’s time to grow up. To evolve. To change.” -> Fine, change.  

Woah… I’m getting that thing where the word “change” has stopped looking like a real word because I’ve used it 6,000 times.  It’s REALLY starting to look like chang-y.  I guess that’s my cue to stop (or to nap).

In summary, I’m scared to death about planning a wedding.  I know NOTHING about this stuff and I need you guys.  I need advice, I need opinions, I need your warnings, I need your shrink’s number (kidding…kind of). I need to stop mumbling wedding-related thoughts to myself as I walk down the street because I have no outlet to share my scattered thoughts on the subject.  By reading this blog, you’re essentially saving me from looking like the crazy homeless (SLASH or is she talking on a bluetooth?) lady.  Don’t leave me out here in cyberspace on my own.  I need you in this thing with me.



I'm marrying this guy 🙂