Leaving them to their chat, my eyes fell on the dining table where the two wedding gowns had been sorted into neat piles. Not just according to differing fabrics, I noted, but also according to the type of panel. I ran my fingers over a stack of chiffon. The dresses themselves might have been ugly by modern standards, but there was no denying the materials used were gorgeous.
“They certainly liked their voluminosity back in the day,” Marianne said, appearing at my side. She gave me a cheeky smile. “Luckily for us.” She headed to the kettle and reaching for the teapot, set about making us all a drink.
“So, we can definitely do something with all this?” I asked.
“We can indeed.”
My heart skipped a beat. It seemed my dress woes really were over.
“Would you like to see the designs I came up with?”
“Yes, please,” I said, suddenly nervous.
She turned to India. “I’ve drawn a couple for you to choose from, young lady.”
“Really?” India’s eyes lit up. “Did you hear that, Mum? I get a choice.”
Tea made, Marianne headed to the dresser and opening a drawer, pulled out a pencil, pad, and a tape measure. Rejoining us, she hung the tape measure around her neck and placed her other two items on the kitchen counter. “Who wants to go first?”
I took in India’s eagerness, and I indicated she go ahead, prompting Marianne to flip to the relevant pages.
“This one has a scoop neck and asymmetrical hemline,” Marianne said. “See?” She held up her sketchpad revealing both the back and front of the design she’d come up with.
“That’s beautiful,” Sal said.
“The snug fit of the sleeveless bodice works really well with the flared high-low skirt, which I think will highlight your silhouette perfectly.” Marianne smiled at my niece. “What do you think?”
“I really like it,” India said.
Marianne turned to a different page. “The next one has more of a V-neck and is the same length all the way round. It features a cross-pleated bodice and has a sash which is tied into a bow at the back. It’s got short flutter sleeves made from some of the sheer fabric we have, and the skirt is chiffon, which cascades down to your ankles. It’s more of a romantic look than the first design.”
India pointed to the second drawing. “I think I’d like this one.”
Marianne crinkled up her face with a smile. “That one’s my favourite too.”
“And mine,” Sal said, although in my view she’d have said that no matter which of the two her daughter chose.
Marianne turned to me. “I know it’s not customary for bridesmaids and matrons of honour to wear the same colour as the bride, but with the fabric being the age it is, I’m loath to try to dye it. I wouldn’t want anything to go wrong.”
“I’m fine with that,” I said.
“Are you ready to see yours, Sal?” Marianne asked my sister.
“Am I,” Sal replied.
Marianne turned the page again. “I’ve gone for a scoop neck in your case and an A-line silhouette that drapes from the waist all the way down to the floor. As you can see, I’ll be using some of the fancier more detailed fabrics for the top half, and some of the plainer longer lengths for the bottom.”
“It’s stunning,” my sister said. “And I love the short sleeves.”
“You know what the best thing about this dress is?” Marianne asked.
Sal shook her head.
“It’s got pockets.”
“No! That’s fantastic.” Sal gave her daughter a nudge. “Did you hear that, India? Mine’s got pockets.”
“Now for the wedding dress.” Marianne looked at me, her eyes wide. “Are you ready?”
