'The' Wedding Dress
Memory Box Moments #1
As many of you will have gathered I’m introducing some new themes to my Substack now that I have finished writing and sharing my book. A couple of week ago I launched ‘The Granny Gatehouse Project’. And this week I’m introducing another series of posts called ‘Memory Box Moments’. It’s a very literal tag as each post will focus on a particular moment in my life and be inspired by something that I’ve kept in my memory box.
Before we begin a quick comment about this particular post. Just to be clear, this story relates to my first wedding and first husband. It’s totally unrelated to Kim who is my second, and much beloved, husband. Did I mention that I found his handwritten speech from our wedding in my memory box last week? Something for another post another day.
And don’t forget. You can also listen to this post instead of peering at a screen. I enjoy writing, but I absolutely adore recording my own voiceovers. I hope you enjoy me chuntering away in your ears too.
My first husband asked me to marry him at some point in 1990 - I don’t remember exactly when. I would have been 23 years old that year, he was just 3 months younger than me, and we were already living together.
We’d just been down to visit his parents in Hampshire for the weekend - the first time we’d stayed with them as a couple. In my minds eye I can still see his mother showing me to my tiny bedroom, with a single bed covered in a flowery eiderdown shoved up against the wall. The room was that small. I was totally confused. Apparently he would be sleeping in his old room - on his own. Their house, their rules, and no opportunity for discussion.
Nobody could say that they weren’t old fashioned. As I’d find out later I would continue to develop my persona non grata status over the coming years, even once I was officially their daughter-in-law. They’d have much preferred me to be at home in the kitchen - cleaning and cooking - with a couple of kids running around. Instead I was studying for a degree, then a PhD, developing a career of my own, and generally having a life. At least their dog always loved me and greeted me enthusiastically - much to his mothers annoyance!
But I digress.
After we got home from that first visit we were lying in bed the following morning. We started talking about what had happened and the ridiculous requirement for us to sleep in separate rooms. Neither of us thought it was reasonable. But discussing it with his parents, and getting them to see reason, wasn’t going to happen. So what to do instead? Well, we swiftly decided that the best way to avoid that happening again was to get married. Yep, I said married!
There was no proposal. No proclamation of love or getting down on one knee. No candlelight and roses. Not even a ring at that point. Just a practical, mutual decision. Is it a surprise that I moved to Denmark (without him) 11 years later?!
Within hours I’d designed my dress. I was so excited to finally make that dress. I’d dreamed of it for years so it was already in my head. It took no time to get it down on paper. Sadly I don’t have that original drawing in my memory box - I wish I’d kept it. I think - like many things - it got thrown out when I moved to Denmark, along with the husband!
I wasn’t a trained designer or seamstress - though we had professionals in the family. But I loved clothes, especially wedding dresses, and was pretty handy with a sewing machine thanks to lessons from Mum and Granny P. I’d even dabbled with making a variety of clothes - suits, evening dresses, bridesmaids dresses, and even a wedding dress, for people to make some extra money. I’d also worked in fashion for a good few years at (the oh so glamorous - not) C&A - remember the rainbow on every high street?!
So of course I was going to design and make my own dress. It never even occurred to me that I wouldn’t or couldn’t do it.
There was no rush to start on actually making my dress as we didn’t plan to marry until spring 1992, more than a year away. At some point Mum and I took a trip into London, to visit John Lewis on Oxford Street, to buy the fabric. A fake (i.e. polyester) raw silk in a beautiful pearly cream. You would’ve had no idea it wasn’t real silk unless you got right up close. We bought meters and meters and meters of fabric for the princely sum of about £100.
In September 1991 I started at university, as a mature student, to study for a degree in Human Physiology. I was the ripe old age of 24 so not really so mature. More a grown up teenager. But I had a flat. A mortgage. A fiancé. And only a student grant to live on - it was back in the day when those still existed. So my main mode of transport was a bicycle. Cheaper than the train. Quicker than a bus. But… a lot more lethal in the busy traffic of East London.
On Thursday 14th November 1991 a car turned through traffic and right across in front of me and my bike. I was just a few feet from his front wing with no chance to hit the brakes until it was too late. The impact folded the front wheel of the bike back into the frame and I sailed over the front of the car, apparently putting out my right arm to save myself. You can read more about that day, and my fascination with ‘blue lights’, in my book.
The short version is that I dislocated my right collar bone, or clavicle to give it it’s proper name. I couldn’t use my right arm. A 5 hour operation was required a few weeks later to try and repair the damage. Then there was weeks of rest followed by physio and rehab. And I hadn’t started to make my dress yet!
By the time I could get going there were only a few weeks left before our April wedding. Amazingly I didn’t panic. I don’t remember even being anxious about it. I knew how fast I could put a dress together. Why would this one be any different? I just got on with it.
A fitted long-line bodice with tiny buttons down the back. Perfectly lined to hide the seams and give it the luxurious feel of real quality as it slid on. A soft ‘meringue’ full skirt, flowing out from my hips with frothy petticoats underneath. Sleeves that came down over the back of my hands in a V-shape with little strings of pearls that went around my middle fingers. Handmade roses and gathered lace adorned the upper edge of the bodice. All designed to sit on top of an amazing, bespoke, white satin and lace corset from the esteemed Rigby and Pellor - the Queens lingerie supplier at that time - hidden on a side street right next Harrods in Knightsbridge.
Just show me the dress I can hear you say! Well, here you go…
Image caption: 18th April 1992 I’m sitting in Mum and Dads lounge - with a big tent right outside the sliding patio doors, set up for our reception after the wedding ceremony at a nearby church. My design was always off-the-shoulder and I had no intention of changing that even after my cycling accident and shoulder surgery. Look carefully and you’ll see that the collar bone on my right side is sticking up. It was repaired a second time, by a surgeon who specialized in rugby injuries (as it’s a common injury in that sport) a couple of years later when the original repair failed. Amazingly my shoulder is fully functional these days and I can prove it by hammering out a couple of kilometers of front crawl in the pool multiple times a week.
Not only did I make the dress from scratch, but I also made a hair band of fabric roses with pearl centers to match. The picture lacks a bit of detail, but the head band (originally a tartan monstrosity that I got cheap!) was first covered in the same silk and then I made fabric roses, like those around the top of the dress, that were then sewn all over it.
After we decided to get married I got lost in designing, dreaming about, and making that dress. I was absorbed in planning the wedding. Arguing about Amenably agreeing the guest list with our parents. Selecting, ordering, and sending out the ornate, classic 90’s, invitations - including those little formal reply cards for each person to confirm if they were coming on the day. Ordering the tent for the reception in the garden, planning the food, and praying hard for good weather and for the daffodils to still be out.
Did I truly consider if I was marrying the right person? No. Did I think about the fact that I was promising to spend the rest of my life with this person? No. Did I ask myself if we’d made the decision to get married for the right reasons? No. Did I think it was time to get married and that was what was expected of us? Yes. Was I right? No, I don’t think so. And would I do it again? Probably. Otherwise maybe I wouldn’t be right here, right now.
From the get go the dress was far more important to me than the marriage itself. I know, you don’t need to say it. Talk about upside down priorities. But I could only finally see that when I married Kim. Second time around was the charm. And so different. I would have worn an old sack just as long as the end result was guaranteed - that I got to marry him and be with him for the rest of my life. So far (18th wedding anniversary imminent), so good.
I bought that second wedding dress instead of making it. It definitely wasn’t an ornate, flower-adorned, meringue this time. Instead this one was a sophisticated, elegant, bias-cut, Hollywood movie heroine type of dress. I’m sure you’ll see it in all it’s glory in a future post. But for now it hangs in a cupboard right beside the desk where I’m sitting. And I most definitely plan to wear it again one day.
However, I’ll always love my first wedding dress. I’m so proud that I designed it and made it myself. Do I still have it? Sadly, no. Another thing that became part of my past when I left that husband, and the UK, back in 2003. In the end Mum sold it for me - in actual fact I think we gave it away when someone agreed to pay for the postage to send it to them or collected it. I hope it found a good home. Maybe it’s even still out there somewhere.
But I’m happy that I can cherish the pictures of it in my memory box.
Thank you for reading or listening along. If you liked this post then I’d love it if you would click on the heart and add a comment about what resonated for you – it means a lot to me to hear from each and every one of you.
In case you missed it, I published my book - Hold My Hand: A Journey Back to Life - here on Substack last year. If you’d like to read it then you can find each chapter by clicking HERE and it will take you directly to the webpage dedicated to the book.
If you would also be kind enough to share it I would be eternally grateful as it will help more people learn about these deadly infections. Maybe one day that knowledge will save a life.
Thank you!
This dress is incredible. But you look more beautiful at your second wedding!
It’s a beautiful dress, and I wouldn’t have noticed your uneven collar bone if you hadn’t mentioned it. Nor would I have guessed it was home-made.