Pride and Prejudice: Purchasing Wedding Clothes

"Oh! my dear brother," replied Mrs. Bennet, "that is exactly what I could most wish for. And now do, when you get to town, find them out, wherever they may be; and if they are not married already, make them marry. And as for wedding clothes, do not let them wait for that, but tell Lydia she shall have as much money as she chooses to buy them, after they are married. And, above all, keep Mr. Bennet from fighting. Tell him what a dreadful state I am in, that I am frighted out of my wits—and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me—such spasms in my side and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart, that I can get no rest by night nor by day. And tell my dear Lydia not to give any directions about her clothes till she has seen me, for she does not know which are the best warehouses . . ."  

~ Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice Chapter 47 

Maybe it is because I attended my niece's wedding last week, or maybe it is because spring is in the air, or maybe it is because I have watched WAY too many episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress," but it resulted in a revelation this week:  I am getting married again.  

Well, not really.

I am staying married to my darling man of 17 years and I'm keeping the ring, but I want a do-over of just about everything else---including the dress.  My poor husband, sisters, mother, and dentist have all heard the sad tale of how I looked about as stylish as a pair of tube socks on my wedding day in my satin sack.  

So instead of perpetuating the wedding-dress-gone-wrong-story for another 17 years, I've decided to write a new story---a story about a happily-married mother of five who decides to throw a small, elegant party for friends and family the way she should have done all those years ago.  There will be good food, twinkle lights, a string quartet, and a real photographer.  Oh, and she will be wearing the PERFECT dress.

But what should it look like?  I don't want a train or a veil since I will most likely be needing to chase my children and/or break up their wrestling matches during the event.  Besides, I've already worn those once and this isn't really a wedding.

But I DO want my dress to be reminiscent of these . . .

How could you go wrong with the elegance of Grace Kelly's gown or the flattering lines of Audrey Hepburn's tea length ensemble?  (You know what?  Forget the dresses.  I just want their waistlines.)

So with these inspirations in mind, here are some dresses that I've stumbled across and I'd love to have your input.  Which one would you vote for?

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Who knows?  Maybe someday I'll actually be able to post a picture of me in one of these gowns---looking happy, looking redeemed, and looking nothing like the Amish Bridal Runway Model of 1996.

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A Midsummer Night's Dream: Fairy Tutu Dress

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve:
Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. 

-William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act 5 Scene 1

I love these sweet little tutu dresses. I love how ethereal and fairy-like they are. Most of all, I love how they can make you forget that that you're on your 20th repeat of "Stay away from the water. Come back here. COME BACK. I am counting to three..." Now, if you are looking to make one of these, chances are that you have some experience with these little fairies I speak of, and you know exactly how this whole scenario goes, so...

...On to the Tutu dress!

These were SO easy to make! And I even took the difficult route by using the tulle that comes on a bolt instead of those cute little spools you can buy at the craft store. But this is how I did it:

Measure your munchkin from armpit to floor, and double that length. Cut 10 yards of bolt tulle into strips that are 8 inches wide by that measurement you just got. My little one's doubled measurement happened to thankfully be the with of the bolt fabric, so I just had to cut it into strips. No extra cutting necessary.
*If you are using the tulle that comes on a spool, your yardage is going to be anywhere from 100-400 yards depending on how full you want it and how tall your little lady is. 100 being about right for a toddler. Think along the lines of 100 yards per year of life*

For this Tutu Dress, I used 5 yards ivory and 5 yards of mint tulle.

Now take white elastic banding and measure around your munchkin's torso right at their armpits. Cut the band an inch or two smaller than that measurement, and sew one end to the other. You will have a big circle now.

(Reserve 2 strips of tulle) Take 2 strips of your tulle just layered together (I put one layer of each color together), and fold them in half, making an arch in the center. Put the center arch behind the elastic, and then pull the tails over the elastic, through the arch, and tighten. (Not too tight- get em all on there before you tighten really well, that way you can be sure they are evenly spaced)

Now if you'd like to cover the elastic that is still peeking out, take a ribbon, and tack it at one spot on the elastic. Then wrap it over the adjacent knot, and back up, over the adjacent knot, and back up, etc., etc. until you get all the way around, and tie a bow. (See here if that confuses you) Save the rest of your ribbon to cinch the empire waistline once the dress is on your little sprite.

Now put the dress on that little lady, cinch that waistline, and take your reserved pieces of tulle- put them on top of one another. Wrap them from the back of the right shoulder to the front of the right shoulder (Threading them under the elastic band- these are your arm straps) over the back of the neck to the front of the left shoulder, and to the back of the left shoulder. Then tie in the back and you have arm straps and a little halter. You could opt to sew these into place, but I am lazy and this works great. So there :)

Now jump for joy! You did it!

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Anne of Green Gables: Puffed Sleeves

Anne was standing in the gable room, looking solemnly at three new dresses spread out on the bed. . . . [Marilla] had made them up herself, and they were all made alike--plain skirts fulled tightly to plain waists, with sleeves as plain as waist and skirt and tight as sleeves could be.

"I'll imagine that I like them," said Anne soberly.

"I don't want you to imagine it," said Marilla, offended. 
"Oh, I can see you don't like the dresses! 

What is the matter with them? Aren't they neat and clean and new?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you like them?"

"They're--they're not--pretty," said Anne reluctantly. . . . "Oh, I AM grateful," protested Anne. "But I'd be ever so much gratefuller if--if you'd made just one of them with puffed sleeves. Puffed sleeves are so fashionable now. 
It would give me such a thrill, Marilla, just to wear a dress with puffed sleeves."

~ Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

I've never been much of a "fashionista," unless you consider my wearing yoga pants and crocs to Walmart today as a "high fashion" statement.  I come by it honestly, though.  My mother hoodwinked me into wearing all sorts of faux pas while growing up by saying that "all the models were wearing that look on the runways in Paris."  And she was right.  All the models were wearing my my "look" on the runways in Paris . . . just 20 years before I did.  As a result, I entered junior high in the 80s as the only 12 year-old who owned a pair of purple "clam diggers." I like to refer them more accurately as my "social suicide slacks".  Thank heaven for mothers like mine and Marilla Cuthbert who always try to do things in our best interests.  But with all due respect, dear mothers, sometimes we'd just like to leave the house in puffed sleeves or in pants that reach our ankles once in a while.

In honor of dear Anne and her love of puffed sleeves, 

I've gathered a few pictures with "poofs" that I think would make the darling girl swoon, 

or change her mind about puffed sleeves altogether.  You decide.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 May all your fashion dreams come true, whatever they may be . . .  Happy Monday!

Anne of Green Gables April: Wedding Day Wishes

“For a moment Anne's heart fluttered queerly and for the first time her eyes faltered under Gilbert's gaze and a rosy flush stained the paleness of her face. It was as if a veil that had hung before her inner consciousness had been lifted, giving to her view a revelation of unsuspected feelings and realities. Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one's life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one's side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination 
flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps. . . 
perhaps. . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship,
as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath. ”
― Lucy Maud Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea 
 

Someday I hope to run across a time machine because I have a long list of things I would like to do differently.  Item number one on the list:  wear a different wedding dress.  I'm not sure what possessed me in the summer of 1996 to lay aside good taste and good fashion sense, but I did, and my wedding dress is proof.  I was so obsessed with finding an affordable dress that I forgot the cardinal rule of dress shopping: a bride should feel beautifully transcendent on her wedding day because she is going to see those pictures (and that dress) for the rest of her life.  My wedding dress was neither beautiful nor transcendent.  In fact, it looked more like something I'd snagged at an Amish garage sale with its long sleeves, frumpy waist, and neckline that left everything to the imagination---including my collarbone.  I should have looked like Grace Kelly on my wedding day, but I showed up looking like Laura Ingalls instead.  Luckily I picked the right guy, and luckily he happened to like "Little House on the Prairie" because he looked at my 80 dollar dress that puckered in the chest and still willed himself to say "I do."

I've gone over it approximately 3764 times in my head, and I'm still not sure exactly what dress I would wear if I could do it over again.  However, the more I think about Anne of Green Gables this month, the more I'm sure my dress would have an Edwardian nod to it.  So in honor of Anne, and of romance, and of spring weddings, and of wistful wishes, I've compiled a gallery of Edwardian wedding dresses from the turn-of-the-century, as well as some more "modern" takes on the era.

And now for some Edwardian Era-inspired wedding dresses 100 years later . . .

I love how the soft lines of these dresses compliment the feminine feel of the lace overlays

The dress on the bottom right is so lovely it makes my heart hurt . . .

Couldn't you just see Mary Crawley from Downton Abbey wearing one of these?

Not only is this woman's dress inspired by fashions from the turn-of-the-century, but her raven hair and porcelain-colored skin remind me of what Diana Barry must have looked like . . .

I hope that all of you are thrilled with the dress you wore (or will wear) on your wedding day.  But for those of you in my regretful boat, don't despair.  If ever I find that time machine, I'll be sure to save you a seat.