Elaine T.
Google
I approached The Collection expecting a thoughtful, collaborative bridal experience — especially given the studio’s premium pricing and bespoke positioning online. Unfortunately, what I received was rushed craftsmanship, poor communication, and a complete lack of accountability.
The biggest red flag came during my only in-person meeting. Seven weeks prior, we had just one Zoom call to review a Pinterest board I created. I arrived expecting to see sketches or a muslin mock-up — but instead, without my consent or prior knowledge, Ashley had already cut into my mother’s wedding dress (a sentimental piece we planned to repurpose for a veil) and began pitching a redesigned dress. I had made it clear from the beginning that I already had a wedding dress and was only commissioning a custom veil. This felt like a bait-and-switch attempt to upsell me — and worse, irreversible changes had been made to a meaningful heirloom without my permission.
We had a gut feeling that the veil itself had been hastily assembled — as if thrown together the night before — and most of the meeting was spent focused on a dress I never wanted. It was disheartening to feel pressured into a direction, especially after flying across the country at my own expense.
Despite concerns, I naively chose to “trust the process” and hope it would work out. There were no progress updates; weeks passed without replies to my emails, and our final meeting 2 months later was rescheduled four times. When it finally happened (via FaceTime), the veil looked exactly the same as it had during the in-person meeting. Ashley had clearly forgotten the changes we discussed and even attempted to charge an extra $200 for a basic hem adjustment — despite already charging $1300 for the “custom” veil. By that point, I had lost all trust, my wedding was approaching, and I just wanted the veil in hand.
When it finally arrived — just six weeks before my wedding — it was riddled with construction issues: a backwards-sewn hair clip, jagged edges, visible glue, and uneven embellishments. It didn’t feel like she had worked on it at all since our last conversation. Ashley insisted I send it back to her, but I refused — I no longer trusted her, there wasn’t time, and I already had my local dress seamstress correct the backwards clip to make it wearable.
It’s worth noting: the top tulle layer came from my mother’s veil, and the lace appliqués were from her dress — both of which we provided. The only part Ashley contributed was the bottom tulle layer (which is fairly inexpensive) and assembling the veil. She added two appliqués and shaped the bottom added tulle into a cap. Later, she admitted the veil had been “handled with less experienced hands,” meaning she didn’t construct it herself or even inspect it before sending it as a final product. (Video won't load; see screenshots)
During this time, my emails went unanswered — even as she posted regularly about parties and social events on Instagram. I felt ignored and undervalued as a client. Despite this, I remained patient through late replies, repeated rescheduling, and ongoing delays, giving her the benefit of the doubt at every turn. In hindsight, that kindness was clearly taken for granted — and ultimately, exploited. When I raised these issues and requested a partial refund, I was met with passive-aggressive replies, legal threats, and no willingness to take responsibility for the broader problems in her process. I was offered a small refund "for alterations" — only $200 — which didn’t come close to compensating for the stress, time, or added costs. (I also paid for shipping both ways.)
In the end, I had to fully reconstruct the veil myself — removing glue, cutting the tulle into a straight line, resewing both layers, and placing new appliqués — all in the final weeks before my wedding.
This was not a luxury experience. It was mismanaged, dismissive, and at times manipulative — and it left me deeply disappointed and regretful. Sadly, the entire experience tainted what should have been one of the most meaningful parts of my life.
