The Wedding Dress

***It's an honor to share something very near and dear to my heart; a piece I wrote for school, but that connects deeply with my family. It's very un-creatively entitled "The Wedding Dress" and is a short piece about a dress that stands the test of time, connecting between three generations of women at the start of the adventure of married life! True story :D *** (Maybe I'll find some pictures later to give you all a visual!)

The Wedding Dress

Martha, 1952: After modeling the designer gown in a 1952 Rhodes Department Store fashion show, I place the $500 wedding gown on lay-away, making monthly payments until I am paid in full; I refuse for this fashion show to be the last time I wear the dress. Made of ivory Skinner satin, the weighty gown shines from every angle down the aisle. A sheer lace starts at the high simple neck, then ruches over the satin sweetheart bodice, creating delicate horizontal folds; French Chantilly lace creates a peplum around the V-shaped waist before cascading around the sides and down the back, along the cathedral length train. Fit for a February wedding, the dress has long lacy sleeves that point to a V over my delicate hands.

Throughout life, my hands are always busy. Busy with my five children and fourteen grandchildren. Busy working inside and outside my home. Busy at other tasks I love, and some done out of necessity. At least I have had a partner in my husband for over fifty years. We find hope through hardship with parents, siblings, our own children; striving and thriving in variation. Life brings aches and pains, but always moves onward.

Rebecca, 1981: My mother pulls the gown out of its garment bag in the closet for another February wedding—my own. The dress fits but needs minor updating for a 1980s wedding, nearly thirty years after its first trip down the aisle. We trim off the point on the sleeves and hem them into a simple long sleeve. I envision some beadwork to accent the flowers on the neck and bodice. The rest of the dress remains the same; the lace is a delicate sheath with roses shaped by the ultra-fine netting. I am proud to wear my mother’s dress, but do so also because it’s available and it fits. I imagine this will be the gown’s final wear, as styles continue to change. After my wedding, the dress is stowed safely back in the closet, to continue being a remnant of two histories.

My life resembles my parents, but not a direct reflection by any means. For me, life unfolds with joy and struggle as well. How else would it be complete? I navigate alongside my best friends: my hard-working and supportive husband for nearly thirty years, and my two daughters, a mixture of both their parents’ ambition, character and heart. We work hard and play hard. Adventure and trial intermingle, but we always look toward a triumphant love.

Rachel, 2009: Standing in front of the mirror at the bridal boutique, with the dress clipped tightly behind my back to fit, my mother and I admire the cascading lace around my petite figure. Unfortunately this dress, my favorite so far, is $1000 over budget. But there is a dress in the back of my mind: an ivory gown made of satin and lace of much better quality, and in the same flattering style. We leave and stop at my grandmother’s house to try on the dress that my mother and grandmother both wore. It fits almost perfectly, only an inch or so big in places. Fifty years old and much of the dress is back in style; with a little restructuring it will look brand new, but vintage. The satin and lace are still in perfect condition, safe from discoloration. The plans are made and the two of them (much more skilled at sewing) carefully take apart and re-piece parts of the bodice and the waist, removing the sleeves and shortening the train, for my own wedding in May.

I try on my grandmother and mother’s dress again; though altered, the dress is still the same. I stand in front of the former models of this gown and await their response.

“I think it looks better now than when I wore it,” says my grandmother. I beam, my mother tears up, and my grandmother looks proud of all that has passed, all that has changed, and all that is yet to look forward to. Thirty, then fifty, then more years of marriage; hard work, struggle, and success; children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. A wedding dress endures the test of age and change.