A labor of love

This was not my planned topic for today. The wonderful rains we’ve been having have saturated the ground and water seeped into a storage area in our basement. Among other things, I store some heirloom garments in there, thankfully all in Rubbermaid containers. I am blessed to own my aunt’s, my mother’s and my own wedding dresses, among other items. Of the three dresses, mine is by far the most spectacular. I opened all those boxes yesterday to ensure that no dampness had entered to encourage mold and mildew growth on these priceless textiles. I have documented the dress in my wedding scrapbook in a section called My Mother’s Masterpiece. I do not exaggerate. However, I had never thought to take close-ups of the details until yesterday.

Hubby, me, my parents, my sister-in-love, bridesmaid; and my brother, the head usher. The gore-shaped decoration on my skirt front is unfortunately mostly hidden in a fold. Mother made my dress, the bridesmaid’s, flower girl’s and one candelighter’s dresses, plus arranged all the bouquets and boutonnieres. I called her my one-woman wedding shop.

Close-up of the bridal couple. My dress was a combination of three different patterns, so Mother had to engineer its construction from a mishmash of instructions.

Since I had removed my dress from its box, I had to try it on. I’ve slimmed down quite a bit and wanted to see if I’d fit into it again. No problem. In fact, it’s a bit loose around the waist. I may be a bit thinner than I was then, but I certainly looked far more glamorous on my big day. Obviously, snapping my own photo in the bathroom mirror was not an easy task. Neither was trying to walk around our house with that long train. I had to gather up quite a bit of fabric in my hands to prevent dress from dragging on the floor. When I began returning dress to its box, I realized that I had never truly examined the dress and its details. I was blown away at the hours upon hours of meticulous, painstaking labor involved. My mother modeled excellence in her work. Looking at the dress forced me to choke back tears. I didn’t want them to fall on the dress.

This shows the bodice neckline, cross hatching and beading. Mother ordered a special sewing machine foot to do the cording, but it did not arrive until she had completed most of it. Until foot arrived, she had to sew one side of the cording, then another. I cannot imagine how tedious this must have been. This dress has LOTS of cording. (Mother tended to keep every shred of fabric she had left, so I found some of the leftover corded fabric in her fabric stash after she passed. I have preserved a piece of it in my wedding scrapbook.) I know that Grandma helped her daughter quite a bit in this project. Since Mother disliked hand sewing, Grandma probably sewed on many of the beads. They must have spent many companionable hours with Mother at her machines and Grandma with needle and thread.

This is the lace on the hem. Every scallop had to be stitched, a lot of rotating the fabric.

Skirt and train featured several of these corded, gore-shaped appliques trimmed with lace. Ribbons and fabric roses were the last embellishments added to the dress. These ribbons and roses tied my dress to the other ladies’s dresses, which were made from a fabric woven with a ribbons-and-roses motif. Until last evening, I had never noticed the lace leaf. Those were added just before the wedding. Grandma and my aunts sewed them on while we were decorating church and reception hall.

These roses are on bottom of the sleeve cap decoration.

This is the sleeve cap, covered with cording and beading.

Here are the sleeve roses close up. Note the lace surrounding that applique. I’d love to know just how many yards of cording and lace she used on this dress! What I do know is that this dress was designed and constructed from love. The materials and workmanship are just its expression. Saying thank you — even if I could — seems so inadequate.