Lynnwardrobe Sews

On September 1, 1962, my Mother and father were married in Long Island, New York
My Mom is the oldest of five kids and the first daughter. In 1962 she was 18 years old, a good Catholic girl, obedient and honest.
My maternal grandmother, very fashionable and a proficient seamstress was very much in charge. Who’s getting married?
I don’t know that I have ever heard much about the planning or the dress shopping, other than my Mothers dress was made of Peau de soie.
Peau de soie, a fancy French name for a silk or rayon dress fabric with a smooth, satiny texture and a subtle ribbed or grained surface. In French, it literally means “skin of silk.” The only story I had ever heard was that my grandmothers dress for my Mother’s wedding, cost more than my Mother’s wedding dress. Hmmm, I’m thinking I’m giving a little side eye to this factoid, but I’ll continue.
My grandmothers “Mother of the bride” dress was a beautiful Ecru sheath dress, made entirely out of Alencon lace and lined in silk crepe de chine. After closer inspection, I think she made this dress. My grandmother always loved this dress, even swore she would be buried in it one day and I will say she looked stunning in it. Both my grandmothers always carried themselves with confidence and both exemplified the belief that as a woman you “keep” yourself up. You give a dam. Aging is inevitable, self-loathing is a choice.

So when I got married in 1987, the 1st time, yes life ain’t perfect, I knew exactly what I wanted to wear. I was 20 years old and had been sewing since I was 8 years old. You would have thought I would want to make my own dress. The truth is, it had never crossed my mind. My Mothers wedding to my Father was so beautiful. I had studied their black and white wedding album for years, and I do mean study! I imagined my day to look just like my Mothers.

So I wore my Mother’s dress. My grandmother has had it hermetically sealed after my Mom’s wedding day. The first time I opened the beautiful gold box with the window underneath the front flap, it was the first time the dress had seen sunlight and been touched since 1962.

To give you perspective, I’m 5’6,” and on the day I weighed 128 lbs, 36″ x 27″ x 36″, I told you I’ve sewn a long time I knew every stat, even back then.

I pulled the dress out, stepped into it, my Mother buttoned up all 72 covered buttons up the back. Like a Cinderella glass slipper, it fits perfect, no alteration.

So now the refashioning, the day my Mom got married she left her wedding with an outfit change. A sheath dress suit, the jacket was cropped and 3/4 sleeved. From what I could tell it is shantung silk. I said to you I studied.

So I wanted to have a leaving outfit too. I decided to ask my grandmother for her dress. Reluctantly, she gave it to me. “I want that back, I’m being buried in that dress!”

So it being the 80’s and all, out of a champagne colored satin, I made some puffy sleeves that got narrower to the wrist and came to a point at the center of the top of my hand, just like my Mothers wedding dress sleeve. I hand sewed them into the arms eye to be able to remove them after the wedding so I could return it the way I received it, sleeveless. My grandmother said “Or else!”

Today, I still have both these dresses. Cleaned bagged and stored. I love them both so much. They make me think of my young Mother and my young fancy grandmother. My grandmothers dress is my personal gauge, when it fits, I’m in check. Come on guys you all know you have a pair of jeans like this.

While scrolling our community this morning, I came across a blog post from someone I admire. It was her real self. Real life talking. Inspiring 🌈 🦄. There is our life and what we present our lives to be on IG. I hope that I can encourage and give hope whether it’s a beginning sewer or someone dealing with life on life’s terms.
So today is significant for me, I am ten years in recovery, sober, today. There is so much I would have missed. Below is a post from 2 years ago and it’s still true today. Dont let my God references turn you off. My God, is my God. You, do you.
“First picture a TB about ten weeks in from 5/10/2009
What I’ve learned:
That a drop of apprehensive hope is still hope.
That when I look inward at what about myself needs fixing, my relationships improve.
That when I am honest with myself and then with others with whom I’ve harmed, owning my part to them, My experience has been, 99% of the time they have forgiven me.
I stayed, and my father in heaven has continued to give me evidence that that was not in vain.
My dream of what it would be like having a relationship with my children when they were older was so small compared to what it looks like today.
I’ve learned not to have expectations of others but instead let go and be pleasantly surprised.
I’ve learned that every day that I stay embracing resentments or voiding relationships because of past shame and embarrassment is a day lost that I can never get back.
Show up, show up, show up because it becomes the evidence to others that they matter, they are loved and they can trust you.
Kindness is free, and I can always afford to be generous of spirit.
I have learned to smile, say hello, allow people to connect to me, though it is contrary action and makes me feel uncomfortable. The more I do it, the more comfortable I become.
I’ve learned that I’m allowed to have boundaries, that when a connection with others triggers an old narrative of “I’m not enough” I am allowed to limit how often I engage. I can take care of myself in a compassionate gracious way without a grand statement or being critical or judgmental of them.
I have learned that when I am of service to my fellow man/woman, I feel the most meaningful connection with my father in heaven.
I’ve learned that when I meditate and pray, fear passes, anxiety passes, self-loathing passes and the best version of myself emerges. When searching for answers while praying and meditating, answers always come in a still small voice, always from a place of compassion, ever much simpler and obvious than I would’ve imagined and again a version of myself that I did not even know existed.
To say I am grateful feels inadequate because I was as “the drowning man desperate for the life preserver” I was without hope and then, an act of Providence, a still small voice, a life preserver, one moment, where I made a decision ” I will do anything and everything you tell me to do, Heavenly Father. I’m just going to choose to trust in you.”
And
I stayed.