I found the perfect dress for my wedding in a vintage shop on Portobello Road yesterday - 1930s, silk, silvery blue, perfect fit, incredibly beautiful, only £120.
What bad luck!
Having guarded it well all afternoon and evening as we dined out and went for a drink, I returned back to Busta's flat, unwrapped it carefully from its tissue wrappings - and discovered that when the shop assistant had been writing in the freaky shop's log book thing as she was packaging the dress, the dress had obviously come into contact with the wet biro ink and there were a few tiny biro-ish dots ON THE FRONT OF THE SKIRT. Did I burst into tears? Yes I did. However, I calmed down and an inspection this morning revealed that (a) unless you're actually looking for the patch of tiny dots, they're not really noticeable and (b) hopefully they will be cleanable. So it's not a total disaster. But I am still very disappointed that the perfect dress (and it really, really, really is) is no longer perfect.