I am the first to admit I am not a fashion plate. I have no desire to BE a fashion plate. If you are remembering me for my clothes, I am not worth remembering. Having said that, if you are remembered for the WRONG reasons by virtue of what you wear, that just makes ya SHALLOW. But…maybe that’s what you are.
Went to a wedding over the weekend. The small civil ceremony and meal afterwards were held at an elegant country hotel. Quite a few people were properly dressed: men in kilts or summer suits, women in dresses ranging from simple sheaths to flowery summer frocks. The sister of the groom, who I remember as a mousey little thing at my own wedding, looked stunning in a seriously classy, understated way. The groom beamed so much during the day I’d have allowed him jeans and a T-shirt. (Grooms seldom look so happy throughout to whole day and this one did). Shame about the bride’s too-long dress which hampered her walk down the hall to the room where the short service took place.
I changed my mind and wore a solid plum dress, the sleeves of which I removed to make it more summery, with one of my Jim Thompson silk scarves from Bangkok. Naturally I still wore my HK biggies (see my previous post) with the big pearl studs that J gave me. Luckily it was a brighter purple than the deep aubergine that the bridesmaids found themselves stuffed into. (There are plenty of flattering dresses out there for women of a more ample size. These were not them).
Here’s how I figure it. The men who didn’t wear kilts didn’t have them or didn’t care to hire them so wore suits. The ones who simply wore shirts and trousers didn’t care enough about the event to dress respectfully. (One did wear a tie, which simply looks foolish without a suit). The woman who wore a skin-tight hooker dress…in WHITE…I can’t even get to where I might think about why she wore that.
WHO. WEARS. WHITE. TO. A. WEDDING?
Help me out. ‘But I only have one nice dress and it is white’. Two words: machine dye. Or wear a jacket over it. Or a big pashmina. Sew on some appliqués. Get someone to do it for you. Take ‘em off later. Borrow a dress. It ain’t your day. You are detracting from the bride. I don’t care if it is her third or fourth time out or she’s been shacking up with the groom for a decade or her children with said groom are in the wedding party. There are some things that you do not do.
A few of the older women there were just spitting. I suggested that one of them could go up to this tart (and that’s what you look like when you go to a wedding in a skin tight, leave nothing to the imagination, better darn well not drop anything in case you have to bend over to pick it up WHITE dress) and ask if she always wears white to a wedding or was it just this particular bride she wanted to insult. I made several new friends with that comment I tell you.
Oi. When Himself gets back from his latest travels (I want to say Denmark) I’ll take a picture of the plum dress refashion, which was really just a sleeve removal and facing making. It was a good call: the flower dress shown in the previous post is nice and all, but just a touch too casual.
In the meantime I have some paid work. I decided the way to get round my dilemma of doing paid work would be by swapping for my skills (a practice that also applies to my pearl jewellery ‘business’) based on the hours taken for a particular project. Rebuilding a skirt waistline was done for a bottle of a very good Barossa shiraz. The two trousers hems today were negotiated for a bottle of a Marlborough sauvignon blanc of which Himself is quite fond.
I can think about what to do with this as well:
In a reverse link, I talk about this over on Refashion Co-op in order to enlist the help of my fellow refashioners by picking thier brains. The usual way of a joint blog such as RC is to post a few details and pix there then leave the main story to your own blog so you do not hog up space. I’m just feeling a bit wicked today.
Like a GUEST who WEARS WHITE TO A WEDDING.
Look at me, look at me, look at MEEEEE. That’s got to be what it is.
