Steaming. No, I’m not talking about the weather outside,
although I certainly could be. I’m
talking about The Wedding Dress.
Designed by my mother, made by her mother, and worn by six brides,
including me. Now my daughter is wearing
it in a week. After having been carefully
cleaned and preserved following the last wedding, the dress simply needed to be
steamed in preparation for this wedding.
It took me one phone call to discover that it costs $300 to
steam a wedding dress. I decided that I
could purchase a professional-style steamer and do it myself. I spent much of the 4th of July
steaming the dress. I discovered that the skirt had four layers: a satin layer
with a train, two layers with yards and yards of tulle with a train, and a top
layer of tulle and lace, with a lace train. It is all very lovely, but it is a lot of material to steam. As I wrestled with the steamer and the tulle
and some small burns, the $300 started to seem like more of a bargain.
Except. As I steamed the
dress, I saw up close the careful stitches that my grandmother made. I began to
think about all of the time and effort that she invested in creating the dress according
to my mother’s wishes. My grandmother made a dress whose fitted bodice was the perfect
size for my mother and, amazingly, six others of us. Working on the dress, I saw stains on the
train that the most careful cleaning had not been able to remove. I discovered some tiny tears in the tulle and
a few age spots on the satin. I love that each imperfection is a reminder that the
wedding day is a celebration of a marriage, not a veneration of a dress. As I
steamed every inch of the dress, I could feel the history. Vee, Gene, Nancy,
Judy, Sally, Louise, and now Caroline have all worn this dress. There has not been a divorce among us. The
fabric of that dress has seen the start of many joined lives, and the memories seemed
almost palpable as the steam rose from the dress.
The dress is hanging in my living room for the next week, so
that I can continue to steam and fluff. (Obsessive? Me???) More than that, though, I enjoy looking at a
testament to life and love and hopes and dreams, all pulled together by the careful
stitches of my grandmother.
