The Dress

There has been much speculation over the last week as to what the dress would look like, so I thought I would share a dress story of my own.

A very dear friend of mine had a black tie party for his 18th birthday and although the cry may often be heard, I really did not have a thing to wear. I have always been a jeans wearing kinda girl and could think of nothing suitable in my wardrobe for such an occasion.

I knew that the sort of dress I had in mind would be beyond my limited Saturday girl in a shoe shop budget. There was only one thing for it, I’d have to make one. My Mum rolled her eyes at the very thought, no doubt remembering a school report entry for needlework saying, “She shows little interest in the subject and makes very little effort.”

Undaunted, I chose a pattern and a length of silky purple taffeta, dragged out my Mum’s old Singer from where it languished at the bottom of her wardrobe and began. It was not an easy task and possibly a crazy undertaking for my first attempt at a piece of clothing. I cursed that slippery fabric many times, but I persevered and ended up with a dress I was proud to wear to my friend’s party.

This picture was taken a couple of years later, in my halls of residence, when the dress had its third outing, to a Summer ball. It still hangs in the back of my wardrobe, although I can no longer shoe horn myself into it! I just couldn’t bear to part with it, even after 25 years. Maybe one day my daughter will want to wear it and continue its story.

After enjoying all the other stories that were shared as part of Sian’s Storytelling Sunday last month, I decided to take the plunge and join in today.