Considering a wedding dress with off-shoulder, Bardot straps? Read this first.
You know I’m not one for following trends for the sake of it, but an unavoidable one this summer is the Bardot neckline. Popularised by the eponymous actress Bridget Bardot in the 1950s and ’60s, the straight (or sweetheart) neckline elongated by off-shoulder straps has actually been around since Regency and Victorian eras.
It’s the straps we need to talk about. Loved for balancing out wide hips, narrowing broad shoulders, showing off the décolleté while remaining elegant and concealing bingo wings, they do have an inherent drawback.
The crux of Bardot straps is this: there will always be a trade-off between how well they fit and how much you can still move your arms.
Gorgeous Sarah opted to remove her Bardot straps (and train) completely, and straighten the neckline.
There are workarounds but all of them involve a compromise of some sort. If you want to be able to lift your arms at all on your wedding day – to hug guests, slow-dance with your new spouse, pick up children, toss your bouquet (or hold it victoriously aloft), throw shapes on the dancefloor, remove your veil or fix your hair – and have your heart set on this classic neckline, here’s what we can do.
Awesome Sophie in her Bardot-neckline wedding dress. Yes, she’s on the loo; yes, she’s allowed me to share this.
Option 1: Do nothing
Accept the fit of the straps as they are, which might be slightly baggy but almost certainly will limit how high you can lift your arms.
Option 2: Tighten them to fit
Some people are happy to sacrifice movement and just want them to sit as straight and snugly as possible. This is fine if it works for you, but your arms will be pinned to your sides and only usable from elbows down.
Option 3: Make them detachable
There are a few ways we can do this, including adding poppers so you can remove them entirely. Alternatively, we can have them fitting snugly but fashion a way for them to fold neatly under your arms if you choose to wriggle your arms out of them completely. Alternatively, you could wear a Bardot style as a bolero or even just a separate ‘collar’ that slips over your shoulders.
Option 4: Add elastic
A popular option with my customers this year has been to run some elastic through (or under) the straps so they fit more snugly but can still extend when arms are lifted. This option will cause some gathering/ruching in the straps, which some have embraced for its frilly effect and had me add elastic to the full strap, while others weren’t keen on the aesthetic and just had me add it towards the back.
Option 5: Engineer an internal runner
This is a clever option if you don’t mind the straps finishing tucked into the back (and/or front) of your dress rather than resting on top. Each strap is looped over a horizontal ‘bar’ of ribbon inside the dress that it can run along, while a length of elastic pulls it back into place when your arms are down. It doesn’t work with all dress and strap styles but worth asking about as it’s the best option for keeping a close fit while allowing maximum movement if it works.
Option 6: Raise where they sit
If you’re open to a neckline that isn’t quite strictly a Bardot, a final option is to raise where the straps sit, so they’re on the edge of your shoulder rather than around your arms. This means losing arm coverage (in case that’s a dealbreaker) and gaining coverage on your back so bear in mind whether you want that or not too.
Beautiful Debs, whose Bardot straps I raised to sit higher on her shoulders so her back would feel less exposed. Her sweetheart neckline lent itself particularly well to this alteration. Raising them also meant that, despite shortening them, she had more freedom of arm movement.
If you’ve yet to start wedding dress shopping, please don’t rule out a Bardot neckline, but remember that it will always require a compromise of some sort. And if you already have your Bardot-neckline dress, please don’t panic. Feel free to drop me a line and we can find the best solution for you and your dress.
Char in her gorgeous Bardot gown (with the five-metre custom veil I made her). Photo: Lauren Brumby Photography
The Three Fs to consider to make sure your dream wedding dress doesn’t become a neurospicy nightmare
Shopping for – and wearing – a wedding dress is a whole new experience for most people. Seeing yourself as The Bride for the first time can be surreal and overwhelming, and you’re often in and out of several dresses in quick succession. Consequently, you might not have time or emotional energy to notice the little things that will make wearing one for a whole day uncomfortable.
Add the sensory issues that often come with neurodiversity into the mix and the dress of your dreams can end up feeling like a nightmare.
But not all dresses are created equal, and there are some common culprits to look out for when you’re choosing your dress, mainly around the three Fs: Fabrics, Finishes and Fit. Feel free to add your own F if you hit all three.
FABRICS
I’m not just talking about synthetic fabrics (polyester, nylon, etc) that make you sweat here, as you’ll be hard pressed to find a dress made from 100% breathable, natural fibres (e.g. silk, cotton, viscose, etc) in most boutiques. Sometimes you get a choice, especially if you’re going bespoke. Get samples you can take away and experiment with if you can.
Lace
Lace can be scratchy (particularly the stiffer kind in direct contact with your skin), or conversely tickly – I’m looking at you, eyelash lace necklines. Eyelash lace can usually be trimmed down to the solid edge if necessary so don’t let it put you off an otherwise perfect dress.
Tickle tickle! Beautiful and delicate, eyelash lace can also be a bit tickly for some people.
Check which parts of your body will be in contact and whether it will irritate you.
Feathers
Another tickly one is feathers. Even if you’re not outright allergic, feathers can tickle mot just your skin but the inside of your nose (they shed too). There can also be sharp bits.
Sequins
One of my biggest bugbears with wedding dress manufacturers is the placement of beads and – worse – sequins under the arms of sleeveless dresses where they will chafe the delicate skin of bare inner arms. Have you ever felt the edge of a sequin? Those buggers are SHARP. Now imagine rubbing your arm on clusters of them all day and night.
Even if they’re not right up in your armpit, check what your wrists will be brushing against if your dress has beads and sequins on the skirt. If they’re somewhere annoying, you can have them removed. Alternatively, if they’re too pretty to ditch, have your seamstress cover them in a soft sheer fabric such as tulle or organza so you can still have the sparkle without the scratching. If you’re open to a bit of a restyle, you could even add sleeves or gloves to protect your skin.
Glitter
A huge trend at the moment is glitter, especially on tulle, although I’ve also seen it on satin and even lace (and I’ve actually made two wedding dresses using a black glitter lace satin!). By its nature, it has a slightly rough texture so I usually recommend putting it under a layer of tulle rather than have it as the top layer of a dress. It will still sparkle but feel softer.
Veils are different as they’re not in constant contact with your skin.
FINISHES
It’s not just the fabrics themselves that can cause an issue, but what you do with them and where on the dress you wear them.
Stitched tulle
For example, even the softest tulle becomes a serious rash-inducing irritant when it’s folded and stitched, especially for a neckline; it makes every tiny fibre an inflexible ridge that RUBS. I see red skin under a lot of illusion panels where the edge has been turned under and sewn. It’s usually better to leave the edge raw and unstitched; I cut some away for a bride during her fitting this week and the relief was immediate.
Some tulle necklines and arm scyes (that’s the technical term for an armhole) have to keep their stitched edge to prevent them stretching out of shape during wear. In these cases, ask your seamstress to put something underneath the narrow hem to protect your skin. Depending on the dress, I’ve used iron-on soft interfacing (often seen on the back of embroidery on T-shirts for example) organza ribbon and clear silicon tape. Sometimes we need to experiment a bit to find what will work best for the dress and the wearer.
Unstitched tulle
It also depends on where on the dress they are. Unfinished stiff-tulle hems (usually in underskirts and inner dress layers) feel like barbed wire if they come into contact with the tops of your feet. When I get in a hot shower after a day when I’ve worked on stiff tulle, my hands and forearms suddenly sear from all the micro abrasions and scratches they’ve sustained from the edges.
Enclosing them in a rolled hem or encasing them in bias binding protects skin. I do this as standard on all my bespoke dresses, but not all manufacturers do (the last Vera Wang dress I altered didn’t; also polyester BTW), or they’re inconsistent with it (some Wed2b dresses have their stiff tulle hemmed, others don’t)
The raw edge of stiff tulle
Boning
Not quite a fabric, but an essential component of many wedding dresses is boning (stop sniggering at the back). It shouldn’t be uncomfortable but check where it finishes at the bottom to make sure it’s not digging in your tummy, hips or the tops of your legs, especially when you sit. I’ve had to shorten bodice bones for many people, especially wheelchair users.
Need a light boning, anyone? Fnarrrr
Smells
Smells might not be the first thing wedding dresses make you think of, but have a good sniff when you’re trying them on or choosing fabrics. Some manufacturers spray fabrics with chemicals that have a distinctive smell that not everyone can tolerate. Some have a sickly sweet smell and others more unpleasant odour of fish mixed PVA glue.
Cheap stiff tulle seems to be a repeat offender here. I once had to leave some outside (literally on the washing line) for two months before I could tolerate it inside, even after machine washing it twice. The smell still hadn’t completely gone so I gave up on it and invested in a better one, making a mental note never to cheap out on stiff tulle again.
If you’ve bought your dress second hand or a vintage number and specialist cleaning can’t get rid of smells, my friends in theatre always recommend spraying with cheap vodka.
FIT
Of course, making sure your dress fits well can solve a lot of sensory issues. But when you’re trying on samples that don’t fit you properly, make sure you understand what a proper fit will feel like.
Heavy + strapless = tight bodice
For heavy strapless dresses in particular, it might have to be tighter than you’d like. A weighty skirt section needs to rest snugly above your hips so it doesn’t fall down and have to doing the yank-it-up dance all day. By snug, I mean firm and supportive; you should still be able to breathe normally and feel like you could enjoy a full meal. Wedding dresses are not usually designed or worn for practicality but they shouldn’t be uncomfortable and should certainly never be painful.
If you’re someone who easily feels constricted in tighter clothes, consider whether a looser style might be for you. I’ve seen a dress trigger a panic attack once it fitted as it should because the bride didn’t realise that it would need to be so tight to stay up. She was autistic and had sensory issues against feeling squeezed. When she bought her heavy satin strapless ballgown, it was some inches too big for her – gaping all over and falling down – and she didn’t realise how much more snug the bodice would need to be to support the weight of the skirt. Even leaving it slightly looser than I would normally to accommodate her sensitivities (she explained them to me at our first appointment), it still felt too restrictive for her.
THE GOOD STUFF
I would love to be able to provide a definitive list of Fabrics, Finishes and Fits that won’t cause sensory issues. As we know though, if you know one neurospicy person you know one neurospicy person. Everyone’s needs, likes, dislikes and sensitivities are different, just as every dress will be different. Satin is lovely and smooth and could be a safe bet for many but it can be heavy and people like my daughter hate the sound and feel of someone running their nails on it. Most things are surmountable but might need more budget for alterations.
What I’m hoping to achieve here is to give some things to consider when choosing a wedding dress, whether that’s in a boutique, creating something bespoke or buying second hand.
Because I don’t ever again want to see someone’s face as they realise at their final fitting that they’ve made a mistake in their dress choice.
Thank you for all the love for these two dresses I revealed this week. But did anyone spot that they’re exactly the same dress, just in different fabrics?
Same same, but different.
The magic of fabric
It’s not just about the colours; texture is everything. Rachael’s dreamy wedding dress was made in drapey, cationic chiffon, which has the contradictory superpowers of being both lightweight and floaty but still falling heavily under its own weight, giving a straight, sleek silhouette (when you keep still!).
The floral confection modelled by Chenai at Rock n Roll Bride Live used printed organza, which is stiffer and bouncier.
OK, I tell a very small lie in that (technical details) the floral dress’s skirt section is cut as a full circle with a horsehair braid hem and Rachael’s chiffon is a double circle. But the number of layers, cut of sleeves, pleating and everything else is the same.
When I create bespoke wedding dresses, I offer a LOT of fabric options. We can pore over stacks of sample books, order in any fabrics I don’t already have and see how each one feels, moves and works with others.
Stroking all the pretties
I am always available for drinking tea and stroking pretty fabrics so please give me a shout if you’d like to come over for a play.
When people ask how you’re having your hair on your wedding day, they’re not usually talking about your armpits.
Beautiful Meg in our styled shoot. Full credits below
When the photos dropped from our fairytale styled shoot earlier this year, I was thrilled to see our model bride Meg rocking the natural underarm look. What made me even happier was that it was a complete non-issue; it wasn’t mentioned at any point in planning the shoot, on the day, afterwards or anywhere the photos were published, including on social media or in Pretty & Punk.
So I’ve debated internally whether to even blog about it because I didn’t want to make it a thing. But I do want to make normalising brides with body hair a thing, so here we are.
Sorry…
Barely a week goes by without hearing a bride apologise for her underarm/bikini/leg hair during a dress fitting. Honey, I’ll show you mine if it’ll make you feel better, and I’m not apologising for it.
I’m not advocating that everyone ditches the razor as it’s a personal choice how you style your hair wherever it is on your body. But I do want everyone to feel comfortable about their choices (or just what’s there that day, chosen or not).
Personally, I’ve gone through phases of shaving, waxing, epilalating, IPL-ing, plucking and letting it all do its thing. It still varies.
“Mummy, why do you shave your armpits?”
It’s been ten years since my toddler asked me, “Mummy, why do you shave your armpits?” and I really had to think about it.
“Fashion,” I told her, because that’s ultimately all it is. Oh, and to make money by playing on women’s insecurities about their appearance of course.
The Smithsonian Institution reports that the 1920s fashion for sleeveless tops and short dresses revealed western women’s legs and underarms for the first time, “and advertisers seized the opportunity to tell women to shave.” Boom! The razor manufacturers doubled their target market.
When my toddler subsequently started school, a classmate was bullied about the dark hair on her arms and legs, because apparently some children believed girls shouldn’t have hair anywhere other than their scalps (but lots it there of course). She was FOUR years old.
Mercifully, my own child seemed immune. “I can’t wait to have hair in my armpits,” my then 5-year-old told me, “So I can dye it like a rainbow.”
She hasn’t yet, but I’m here for it if she ever does.
What I’m really thinking when I say brides,bridalwear etc
My blog post that’s currently blowing up (for me; everything’s relative) about making wedding dresses for people of all genders and sexes included this side note about the term ‘bridalwear’:
I use the term bridalwear as loosely as possible because not all of my customers identify as brides. I try to use more inclusive terms where I can. I specialise in dresses and the traditionally more feminine styles of weddingwear such as dresses, veils, jumpsuits and separates rather than men’s suiting and tailoring and I’m still answerable to the SEO gods – I need people to find me! As language, attitudes and social mores evolve, this will change of course. In the meantime, I’m always happy to learn and stand corrected if I’m saying or doing something deplorable.
I want to elaborate. I almost always do.
It’s a topic very close to my heart, my family and my English Language degree.
I can’t do away with the term. At least not yet.
Many of my customers not only identify as a bride but embrace the (hopefully) once in a lifetime opportunity to be The Bride. I don’t want to deny them that.
When I know someone is happy to be called a bride, I will use the term for that individual in my conversations with them and in describing them publicly.
Others don’t. I equally don’t want to force an erroneous identity on them or make them feel excluded or othered. I always endeavour to check. Some prefer marrier, partner, or something else.
When I’m talking generally about unknown individuals, I use inclusive, gender-neutral language such as couples, spouse, nearly-weds or customers.
I completed an LBGTQ Awareness Course four years ago with the sadly now defunct Wedding Business School a few years back.
I’d hoped to revisit it for this post but will have to rely on my memory. Quite rightly, it advocated gender-neutral terms.
But I’m finding it tricky to describe what I do, and who I do it for, without saying bridal or bridalwear.
I could – and do – say I make wedding dresses, but I don’t just make those; I make veils, jumpsuits, playsuits and separates including trousers, skirts, capes and overskirts too. My very first foray into creating wedding outfits was inspired by the bow-ties and masculine tailoring of Marlene Dietrich in the film Morocco.
Credits below*
And I love throwing androgynous flamboyance into the mix, like I did when I created the Skye shirt-cape:
But if I say I make wedding outfits or weddingwear, that feels like it covers more than I actually do, because I don’t make traditional menswear like tailcoats, shirts, waistcoats and morning suits.
So I don’t want to waste anyone’s time by contacting me about making them something I don’t make.
And I do want to stay visible in search results when people look for “bridalwear near me”. Don’t even get me started on hashtags. I have to use the hashtags that people looking for the kind of things I make use so they can find me.
How about emojis? Decorative, convenient shorthand, especially where there are character limits. When there are gender neutral options, I use those. If I can use female, male and non-binary together, so much the better.
My Instagram highlight of real customers
For example, on my Instagram, I have a highlight featuring my customers in my creations on their wedding days. Originally I called it Real Brides, which was the maximum character limit that would stay visible on my profile. When I realised this was not only not inclusive but also inaccurate, I changed it to Real Customers, but only Real Custom remained visible and just looked odd. Similarly, Real Weddings became Real Weddin.
Emojis to the rescue. Then I had to pick which skin colours to include (and exclude). ARGH!
Ultimately, I have carved a career out of celebrating individuality. That’s what bespoke is.
So whoever you are and however you identify, please know that I see you, I love you and I’m just waiting for the language and SEO gods to catch up.
*Venue: @weddings_the_boat_shed_salt Photography: @photosbypaloma Bridalwear: me! @hollywintercouture Model: @gabbywaite97 Flowers: @lilybee822 Jeweller: @bishboshbecca Headpieces: @peacock_and_pearl Shoes: @irregularchoice Hair and make-up: @tonisearlemua Cakes: @annalewiscakes Mobile bar: @effervescerefreshments
My black and white balls-up, and the loveliest person in Germany
CONFESSION: last month, in a first-time, heart-stopping balls-up of my own creation, I made and sent a glittering black moon phase veil to a customer in Germany who’d ordered a glittering ivory one. I know. I KNOW.
New Moon: the ivory veil I should have made and sent in the first place. Shop here if I haven’t put you off.
And she had to pay a massive customs charge – €80 on a £206 veil – because fuck you, Brexit.
It’s all sorted now, she received her ivory veil yesterday and got her customs refund on the original veil (and I’ve covered all her postage costs), and we’ve chatted quite a bit throughout the process.
The original black veil arrived back with me yesterday too, with this beautiful message from the bride.
“And even if there was that small mistake – we made the best of it!” – the card I received with the returned black veil.
And this morning, she left me a five-star review.
The review left today by the loveliest person in Germany.
She has been so patient, lovely, funny and kind throughout that I’m almost tempted to fuck up more often. Almost.
It’s finally happened. I’ve had brides arrive for wedding dress fittings without their shoes or underskirt several times but today brought a first: a bride just arrived for her without… her dress.
It’s absolutely not her fault; she’s storing it at her parents’ house and her dad handed her the wrong grey storage box. We only realised what had happened when we opened it in my fitting room and found an assortment of summer clothing and books.
While she runs back to her parents’ house for the correct grey box, I thought I’d put together a list of what you need to have with you to make sure I get your dress fitting perfectly:
Yourself. As you are, no worries about whether you’ve gained/lost weight or that your dress won’t fit. That’s why you’re here.
Your dress. Obviously.
Your shoes. Unless you’re absolutely 100% certain you don’t need your dress taking up.
Your underskirt. This can make an inch or more’s difference to the length, especially if it’s hooped. If it has a suck-you-in waistband, it can also change how the bodice fits. They tend to sit Simon-Cowell-waistline high so if you have a sheer bodice and/or an open back, nows also the time to check whether it’ll be on show if we don’t do something about it.
Your undies. Anything that changes your shape or size such as a padded bra, minimiser bra, shapewear, padded knickers (would not be a first) will need to be on you when I pin you in your dress. Just remember to take them with you when we’re done (but it also wouldn’t be a first if you forget).
Belt. Especially if you want it sewn on.
Not essential, but feel free to bring your veil, jewellery, garter, and anything else you’d like to try to see if it works with your dress if you’d like and we’ll have a proper play.
Are you ambimetric? The chances are that if you were born between 1977 and 1983, you are.
I just uploaded a short hyperlapse Reel showing the making of one the floral embellishments for my Happily Ever After veil. While fingers, beads and threads blurred, the clear constant throughout all 18 seconds was my scarred, tortured, gouged cutting mat.
The cutting mat that has seen better days
How Embarrassing
I’d been worried about the state of my nails, but this proved to be the bigger embarrassment. And it made me realise what a stickler for inches I am. The other side of this mat is pristine, untouched, virginal cutting surface. No trenches scored by countless merciless passes of the rotary cutter. No fibres mashed into its surface by blunt blades to highlight gouges further. Just beautiful, brand-new, reliable cutting mat that I could flip over at any time.
Just one problem. It’s in metric.
The Measure of Xennials
Xennials – the microgeneration born between 1977 and 1983, including me – straddle Generation X and Millenials, with characteristics of both. Sociologists usually define us by the technologies we’re comfortable with. As a classic example, I grew up with a rotary phone screwed to the wall and didn’t have an email address or mobile phone until I was 19 but I was an early (well, 2007) adopter of Twitter. Then again, I met my husband in 1997 and have never used online dating.
I suggest they look at how we measure things. Don’t get me wrong about the centimetres. I CAN work with them, but only for certain things. Metric and imperial units were taught in school but their use had de facto rules whether we realised it at the time or not. Here’s how I’ve realised I work.
Speed
Speed can only be in miles per hour (MPH). Except for that drunken night in the pub with friends in 2003 when we decided that we were henceforth lobbying for the official adoption of furlongs per fortnight (FPF). More specific to my line of work is SPM: stitches per minute. My embroidery machine for example is currently working on a full moon at 500SPM, only half its top speed.
SPM, MPH or FPF?
Distance
As with speed, my default is the imperial mile. Doesn’t matter whether it’s by car, bike, train, plane or crow. However, if I’ve swum it, it’s metres. I can’t run, but if I did, it would get metres, unless it were a marathon and then it would be 26.something miles; I’ve no idea how many kilometres.
However, distance across the living room with a retractable tape measure is always metric.
Similarly, fabric (and thread) length is in metres, but its width is in inches.
The british tabloid press will always convert distance into lengths of a football field, but I have no interest in the game so this one is wasted on me.
Height
Humans must be in feet and inches. Oh, you’re two metres tall? I have no idea what that means. Except I do know that I’m 175cm tall, because I lived in metric-loving Japan once where I was asked my height so often that it remains one of the only things I can still say in Japanese (Hyaku nana-ju go).
However, heights of animals (including horses, because I’m not horsey and don’t understand hands), inanimate objects, buildings, ceilings, tables, DIY projects, etc are all metric. I can’t visualise a 20ft building.
For anything taller than a human, I am also fluent in the standard british unit of height: either Nelson’s Column or a double-decker bus.
Heel height on shoes must be inches. As luck would have it, the ring finger of my left hand is not only precisely 3″ high but bends in exactly 1″ sections, which tells me much about footwear before trying them on just by holding the heel to it. One knuckle and I’ll be taller than my husband, two and I’ll still be able to walk and three will be uncomfortable.
Literally handy
Bodies
Body measurements must always be in inches. So too must dressmaking patterns, seam allowances and notes on how much I’m taking up/in/off or adding.
Two exceptions: the first is when I have to add a lot of measurements together, in which case I’ll use metric but then convert the final number back to imperial.
The second is that the distance of a bullet/knife to a human heart or artery is always in millimetres or “a whisker.”
Weight
Kilos for luggage and cats, grams for parcels and stone and pounds (never just pounds once over the age of one day) for humans.
Area
Cup fraction for bras (half cup, whole cup, etc), square metres for rooms and gardens, number of bedrooms for a whole house, square miles for anything between that and Wales and multiples thereof for anything above that.
I broke my wrist last Thursday. My right, and I’m right handed, at the start of what are typically my two busiest months of the year.
Sad, tired face; lumpy bent wrist
I was booked solid with alterations, bespoke creations and embroidered veil orders and one split-second stumble backwards rendered me on my arse in every sense. I have a Colles distal radial fracture, more technically known as A Proper Number.
By Friday lunchtime, I’d found that I could accomplish many routine tasks with my left hand, even if brushing my teeth was more like punching myself in the face. Crucially I could still sew, with the exception of some techniques, BUT I couldn’t cut fabric.
The largest scissors I could wield were my tiny stork-shaped embroidery scissors which barely nibble fabric, and I couldn’t exert enough pressure on my rotary cutter to get the blade through even the lightest tulle.
So, painstakingly (and painfully), I typed out a message with one thumb, dropping my phone on my foot a couple of times, to the A-Level student I’d told the previous week that I couldn’t take him in for work experience.
Krishal the wunderkind
Krishal came over almost immediately and I liked him even more quickly than that. Actually, everything was speedy. He’d said he was a fast learner and I threw him in at the deep end with techniques he’d never used; he swam with them all. Rotary cutter, narrow-hem machine foot, seam ripper: all nailed first time.
Get this: he’d never used a seam ripper (aka stitch unpicker, the Ctrl+Z of sewing) because he’d never needed to. He’d never sewn a thing wrong. Ever. Including on his first A-Level project, an ambitious cocktail mini-dress with crinoline underskirt in fabric he dyed himself.
Not only that, but he’s taught himself French and Japanese, because he wants to work in Paris and Tokyo. And he’s a gifted musician. And tennis player. And 5,000m runner. Oh, and he’s been approached by a modelling agency.
We’ve been geeking out about sewing AND linguistics AND Disney films (these are a few of my favourite things 🎶) and I think I want to adopt him.
True, I do ❤️ yoga.
A week on, I’m sustaining fewer facial injuries while cleaning my teeth and I can now cut fabric again. Far from simply shadowing and observing me on work experience and making cups of tea, Krishal has been doing skilled work for which I have paid him the rate I would receive for the same jobs.
He is clearly someone who will go far. If his mum and dad refuse to surrender their parental rights to me, I at least hope that one day, while jetting between his Paris and Tokyo ateliers, Krishal remembers me and that he was once – literally – my right hand man.
