Good morning, Everyone. It’s a damp January Sunday on the south shore of Long Island. I have a family story series to share. Hope you enjoy it.
My youngest daughter, Robyn, is getting married! She and fiance, Tommy, were engaged after Thanksgiving, and requested an April 2023 wedding in my parents’ backyard.
Why April? Why the backyard? April is the only month in 2023 that with a sufficient time gap in their schedule. The backyard because it is a beautiful and spacious venue overlooking the Great South Bay. Robyn and Tommy’s wedding will be the seventh backyard wedding.
Both topics require their own post. Today’s coffee share addresses the Wedding Dress. But first, a little back story.
Sixty-six years ago, when my parents were getting married, Mom drew a picture of the wedding dress she wanted to wear. It was a simple A-line style, with a modest scoop neck, cap sleeves, and faux gloves. Her mother, my grandma, had been a seamstress all her life. She was a master at taking designer sketches, creating the patterns, and sewing the vision into a fabulous dress. Grandma saw how she could make her daughter’s sketch into a dream come true wedding gown.
Mother and daughter shopped for the material on 34th Street in New York City’s fashion district. Grandma wanted alencon lace. The lace man had only twelve yards in ivory. It was only twenty-eight inches wide with scalloped edges. The lace man was not sure could get more—perhaps, use a yard or two of the lace as embellishment. No. Grandma had a vision. She bought the twelve yards.
The seamstress painstakingly cut out the scallop edges and the pattern to the dress. She pieced out a reasonable train with the minimal yards. The detailed flowers in the lace were matched at the seams. Scalloped edges around the neck, shoulders, and the hem lined up to the dress panels. Even the zipper closed and disappeared in the lace’s beauty. It was perfect.
However, what should have been a happy time and project for mother and daughter, was in reality, miserable. According to my mom, her mother complained, argued, and threatened her daughter and everyone else in her path. Grandma caused friction with my Dad’s family. She was not nice, yet claimed to love her daughter (and everyone else in her path), but got so little in return for that love.
Not one to argue with her mother (no one could win an argument with that woman), Mom swallowed her anxiety, but lost weight. Already slender, Grandma had to take in pleats and darts the day before the wedding, giving her another reason to rant.
Finally, my mom was off to church, to marry her love, in a beautiful wedding gown made with the only kind of love her mother could muster. Mom looked stunning on her wedding day. Dad was the proud, handsome groom. They began their lives together on June 30, 1956 and remained devoted and in love for 62 years.
I will stop here—let this story marinate. Check back next week for Part II of the Wedding Dress story.
Enjoy ❤️. Like 👍. Share 😊.
Work for Peace