A mob of 2,000 brides-to-be waited outside of Filene’s Basement at the discount department store’s semi-annual Running of the Brides dress sale on Friday.

Lisa Barrett, a 29-year-old nurse from Quincy who had waited since about 7 p.m. Thursday night, braced herself to rip through the banner at 8 a.m. Friday morning in search of the perfect, and perfectly-priced wedding dress.

The sale, which dates back to 1947, offers a selection of 3,000 dresses marked down to $249, $449 and $699, said Filene’s Basement spokeswoman Patricia Boudrot.

Filene’s Basement buyer Nicole Iaricci said the dresses come from retail shops, designers and manufacturers who are eager to move out old inventory.

Before the stampede began, workers were stationed at every rack, securing them so they would not fall over when women began to yank off armfuls of dresses.

Employees took certain precautions during the sale.

“I don’t wear my wedding rings when I do this,” said Medora Miller, 51, who held one of the first racks near the doors.

In about 15 seconds, all of the racks toward the front were emptied. In about 30 seconds, half were cleared and in under a minute, every rack was barren.

Then the piles of wedding gowns started to form around the perimeter of the room, with platoons of women standing guard and holding signs like “Need size 6-8, strapless with lace”.

Many brides and their teams of friends and family members wore matching uniforms or tall headgear so they could find each other as they dispersed through the room.

Rebecca Wallace, 25, flew in from Austin, Texas, specifically for the sale. She assigned a uniform of tie-dyed T-shirts and 17-inch bunny ears to her team of two friends from New Hampshire and Connecticut.

Wallace also said she developed a strategy for finding the dress. During the three-hour wait, she expanded her search party by befriending the bride behind her in line.

“We need two different sizes so we’re all going to browse and switch off,” said Wallace.

Future brides at the sale proved that strategy and the ability to bargain are a necessity in the early hours of the search, when few gowns have been placed back on the racks.

“If you don’t have anything to trade, you’re screwed,” said bride-to-be Lila Mueller, a 30-year-old nurse from Braintree.

There is also little room for modesty because there are no dressing rooms, so prepared brides come wearing spandex or bathing suits.

Mirrors are also key when choosing the perfect dress. Some teams bring their own, while others search for someone kind enough to lend theirs or to take a picture.

After a woman finds her dress, there is often a collective shrieking from her team, signaling the release of her other dresses back into the wild.

“When someone screams, it means they found a dress, so everyone runs over and tries to get to their stash,” said Deborah Greenstein, a 23-year-old graduate student at Sargent College of Health and Rehabilitation Sciences.

Greenstein said she was not prepared for the experience, which can sometimes get physical.

“Their bridal hormones are off the chart,” she said.

She was accompanying her friend and future bride Maggie Bell, 25, also a graduate student at Sargent.

Still despite the rush and confusion, for some brides, success came early and easily.

Sheila Barrett, a 56-year-old Transit Authority superintendent, was 10th in line after arriving in Boston at 2 a.m. from New York City.

Barrett attended the Running of the Brides event in New York this past September, but with no success. She found her $699 dress in Boston by 10 a.m.

“It was a lot of fun,” said Barrett. “This one was a lot more organized than the one in New York.”

Abby Johnson, 32, said the sale held a traditional allure.

“When I was 16, my mother and I walked into Filene’s Basement by mistake, not knowing it was Running of the Brides,” said Johnson, a hotel manager from Bar Harbor, Maine. “We got such a kick out of it, we almost bought wedding dresses that day because they were only $200.”

After her mother e-mailed her about the event, Johnson decided she had to attend. Her mother, Jane Johnson, 63, from Bangor, Maine also came, but was a little more prepared for the chaos this time.

“You have to have that attitude that you’re just going to have fun,” she said.