Walked through the front door in the middle of a rather drunken argument with husband-to-be on Friday night, scooping up expensive-looking white envelope with my name and the words 'private and confidential' in gorgeous calligraphy on the way (clearly I'm writing this some days later, the three kumquat margaritas I'd consumed that evening meant I was in no fit state at the time to actually appreciate the calligraphy or the private and confidential warning).
Still shouting at each other (I think, if I remember rightly, it had something relationship-rockingly-awful to do with what he'd ordered for dinner, but can't quite remember), I whipped out a card with 'Jenny Packham' inscribed across it, which was about when the hangover kicked in and I scurried off upstairs with husband-to-be dancing a jig to "I know where your dress if from" in the living room.
So, the big secret's out, although bearing in mind this is a man whose wardrobe consists of three labels only - H&M, Gap and M&S - spoon-feeding him the name of the designer is fairly unlikely to result in him guessing what I'll be wearing.
I, on the other hand, am slightly in love with the sketch of the dress that came inside the aforementioned expensive-looking envelope, and the little fabric swatches stapled to it (the receipt it also contained went straight in the bin – out of sight, out of mind, being my motto on all things budget-related for this wedding).