Before I tried on wedding dresses, I had a good idea of what kind of look I was going for. I pictured myself in something very long, simple and close-fitting with a train. I'd pair it with an elaborate, avant-garde veil, plum lips and a fey stare. I'd look ethereal and willowy (ambitious for someone who's 5ft 3inches), like a cross between a Lord of the Rings elf and Miss Havisham, if she'd actually got hitched.
Unsurprisingly, the dress I now have is planets away from the slightly scary look I was so sure of. But she's wonderful (obviously my wedding dress is a girl), and I can say without any self-consciousness that probably for the first time in my life I'm going to be most beautiful girl in the room on my big day.
But let's start at the start. My mum and I arrived in Glasgow for our big shopping day feeling really quite trepidatious. What if nothing fitted me? Or suited me?
Our first appointment was with Bravissimo. My mother is a huge believer in the power of a good bra, and insisted getting me a bridal number before we hit the boutiques. Bra purchased, we headed to Berketex Brides in Bath Street where there are hundreds and hundreds of white dresses. Everywhere.
This made feel slightly nauseous. And scared about being a bride. And like running to the safe space of Topshop where no-one's pretending everyone suits white.
Instead I had a chat with my assigned dress assistant Katie. Ah, the wonderful Katie. So sweet, so helpful, so no-nonsense. There would be no panic on her watch. I filled in a form about my wedding, the style of dresses I like and then Katie, my mum and I picked dresses we thought I should try on.
The first one (thick straps, too long, empire line) made me look matronly, the second is a bit Amy Childs (so much diamante and cleavage - a bit I-might-have-an-affair-with-the-vicar) and the third one is perfect. She's tea-length, she's covered in lace and I feel not just pretty, but cool. Really cool. And like my fiancé will really fancy me in it when he sees me. Jackpot.
After prancing round the changing room, my mum and I go for a two-hour boozy lunch and discuss the dress. Just to be sure, you see. But we both know we're going back to Berketex and Katie's not surprised. I try on the dress again, this time with a veil and very glam shoes, and my mum and I squeal we'll take it with matching red-wine-stained mouths. Katie measures me and tells me she can send my custom-made version of the style to a London branch in August, where it can be altered again if necessary. We hand over quite a lot of money (thanks Mum) and head for cake and cocktails. Best. Day. Ever.