The above suggestions, however, failed to consider that the once delicate and lithesome bride (ergo, me) would have undergone dramatic physical changes in proportion to her accumulated age. The poor gown would not stand a chance even if one burned the tape measure that exposed this naked truth all too well.
It’s not a product defect to have doubled in size. Blame it on the body’s appetite for salt and sugar that seem to become more pronounced and insatiable as we advance in age.
In short, sentimental reason is not enough to make a hand-me-down wedding gown perfect in the eyes of any Gen X daughter or niece to wear. Why choose it when they could wear something more loose and breezy and ah, baring more skin? To my horror, I already saw what modern brides were capable of doing. One wore a red-hot, firebird-inspired wedding gown while another chose an all-black silk taffeta obviously inspired by the black widow spider!
The gown was therefore laid to "rest" for several decades in my sister’s attic until she decided to do a Joan Crawford Mommy Dearest number. She cleaned her attic of old books, photos, furniture, dust, dirt and ... one wedding gown. She phoned me immediately.
Pulling it out of the box, I exclaimed, "This is not white. It’s yellow! Worse, it had shrunk!" (Oh come on? Gowns don’t shrink! Brides, oops, however, expand!). What to do... what to do?
Enter Roy Gonzales of the House of RT Paras. (The atelier celebrated its first 100 years of high fashion last year.) Roy sketched the wedding gown in 1971 and his mother Josefina "Tita Inang" Gonzales, lovingly sewed and finished it way ahead of the big day.
While Roy studied and lived in Paris, my career and that of my husband took us to several countries abroad, particularly in the Australasia region. The years collected memories covering amusing and funny anecdotes so when I finally met up with Roy in Manila, it was like two friends picking up at mid-sentence.
Our topic naturally touched on the bygone days. Roy amassed heaps of praises for his fashion designs and creations in the French houses of Pierre Cardin, Jean Patou and LeCoanet et Hemant, but he never forgot to forward some of his favorite, personal sketches and designs to his mother in Manila. That solved and reduced the time for many of their multi-generational clients in Manila to choose from a pile of fashion catalogues. Tita Inang always did justice to Roy’s sketches, adding her faultless so-called third eye to each creation to make them the perfect fit for the perfect cut.
Roy inevitably asked, "Do you still have your wedding gown?"
"As a matter of fact, I’d like to discuss that with you," I replied. "What do I do with mine?" Roy arched his brows while he amusedly shook his head, "Bring it over and let’s see what we can do." Spoken like a pro.
When Roy saw the gown, he exclaimed, "Goodness! I bought the lace myself!" Clarita Paras who helped manage the atelier for Tita Inang all these years, got equally excited and challenged. She made a suggestion that was so practical that we could have knocked our heads together for not thinking about it. "Why don’t we have it washed so we will get a better assessment of how well the gown had stood its hibernation?" Clarita mused.
I squirmed at the thought that a washing accident can ruin the gown, but I knew that Roy and Clarita would be in a better position to know about fabrics and detergents so I quickly dismissed my initial misgivings.
I couldn’t believe my eyes when Clarita came back with the gown, thoroughly and gently washed by hand. It was so white that it was sparkling! Everyone at the atelier swore it looked brand-new and was just right and ready to wear again!
There was one snag however: The zippers don’t meet! With a major alta moda disaster brewing, Roy had to think fast to vanish my embarrassed look short of confirming to him, "Don’t look at me. It used to fit perfectly!"
Roy laughed with full abandon. It was obvious that I had 30 years of roasted chestnuts, potato chips, chew-and-swallow chocolates and gallons of ice cream deposited to my now-expanded frame. While he wanted to keep the original empire cut of the gown, he had to bridge the wide gap that my hearty, wild and robust appetite ruined.
He struck on a great idea, "Why don’t we remove the zipper and substitute a silk braided cord that we could wind and tie behind your back? It will have a peek-a-boo look without you catching a draft. The bottom will be in silk chiffon, cocktail length, and you can wear it to any evening function." That took care of the bodice. "What about the rest of the gown?" I asked.
Roy sketched excitedly. He designed another cocktail-length dress using the white lace material from the wedding gown by superimposing it on a basic black dress. Roy literally resurrected the vintage wedding gown, breathing new life – or is it two lives?
Well, so much for sentimentality. Like what many of us soon realized, we should not wait for that special occasion to wear, use and enjoy what we have now.
My bridal gown knock-offs had been to a few select functions and they have proven to be icebreakers, if not interesting conversation pieces. After all, how many of us can say, "I am wearing my wedding gown today!"