Polish Princess
I worked at a mom/pop shop. We had a bride who was polish, which my boss called ‘polish princess.’ She wasn’t my bride, but they picked a very bad consultant for her. This girl also wanted stuff added to her dress that wasn’t done by the manufacturer, so we had to do it all in house. To give you an example, she wanted lights, those tube lights? I think that’s what they are called, all around the bottom half of a dress that we had already spliced with two different dresses. Side note: my boss loved anything that meant money. Anyway, we spent months fixing and refitting this dress because she not only lost 45lbs from her first time being measured, which brought her four dress sizes less than her original, she also got a massive boob job. Well, after finally fitting her into her gown, on the last week, she decided the lights that took our poor 70-year-old seamstress two months to sew in looked tacky. She was crying and throwing herself at her mother in a tantrum, screaming in Polish all this crazy stuff. She ripped the bottom of the dress and ultimately had to buy a dress from David’s bridal because my boss finally got smart and kicked her out. Just a mess. She made our seamstress cry!!!