For the second time this week, I’ve seen a video (a different one this time) recommending lidocaine spray to brides so they don’t feel their painful wedding shoes.
Lidocaine is a local anaesthetic, so a liberal spray all over the feet will numb them to pinching, pressure points from heels and rubbing.
I don’t doubt that it works but can we please STOP normalising wearing things that hurt?! And it’s ALWAYS for women.
What you wear on your wedding day – shoes, dress, corset, etc – should allow you to to walk, dance, sit, stand around, eat and ENJOY your day.
I had a bride in for her final fitting once who was looking concerned as she moved in her dress in front of the mirror. I could tell something was wrong and was scrutinising her corsetted dress for the cause of her consternation. It looked perfect and I was started to panic, first that I’d don’t something wrong and second that I couldn’t even figure out what it was.
Eventually, she said hesitantly, “Is this actually right? I wasn’t expecting it to be… comfortable!”
Weddingwear is not designed primarily for practicality in the same way as gym kit, but it shouldn’t be uncomfortable and certainly never painful. For all sexes.
Seriously, can you imagine telling a man to spray his feet with anaesthetic so he can tolerate his wedding shoes?
I attended a real-life, actual wedding yesterday, something I don’t usually get to do. I was officially off-duty. But.
I couldn’t help myself. I intercepted a bridesmaid between the ceremony and photos with, “Honey, we need to hide your bra before the pics.” She looked a little startled – we’d never met, and she’d just got off a 10-hour flight from British Columbia – and made a swift exit.
“You just made that bridesmaid run off crying,” my husband said as he rejoined me. Just as I panicked that he might not be joking, the bridesmaid reappeared with a tin of body tape.
While we secured the neckline of her peach dress to her décolleté to conceal her black bra, I apologised for my temeritous accost while she explained that she’d somehow forgotten to pack a matching bra for her whistle-stop 24 hours in Oxford for her friends’ wedding. She also reassured me that I had not actually made her cry, only run off to retrieve the tit tape.
Later, at the reception, I noticed the bride’s sequinned spaghetti strap was twisted on her left shoulder as she chatted to other guests. I’d only met her once previously, several years ago, but before I could remind myself of this, I’d reached out from behind her and run my finger under it to smooth it back out.
Argh, what if it was meant to be twisted because it was too long otherwise, or some other reason I hadn’t though of?
Fortunately, it was all OK, and the bride (and bridesmaid) thanked me.
So, was I out of line? Is it a bridal dressmaker thing or even just a mum thing? Case in point, I’m also a sucker for tucking in strangers’ protruding clothing labels when I see them.
Or is it a neurospicy obsession with the rules and making sure everything is as it should be, just as I still can’t resist correcting a grammatical solecisim?
Incidentally, we also sang Amazing Grace during the service, and I had to edit the fourth stanza.
Post pre-wedding pics of your dress anonymously to avoid trolls finding your other half!
There are several reasons people post pics of their wedding dress in Facebook wedding groups before the big day – to share the excitement of saying yes to the dress with strangers who won’t be at the wedding, to ask advice on accessories, etc.
One bride I saw this week did just that. But then someone in the group stalked her profile, found her fiancé and sent the pictures of her in her wedding dress to him!
Heartbroken, she contacted the admins to report the sender but found there was no-one of that name in the group.
The troll had either done a midnight flit from the group or, more likely in my opinion, was using a different profile in the group than the one they used to send the images.
Some group admins are now refusing to allow pics of wedding dresses pre-wedding unless they are posted anonymously so the trolls can’t stalk their profiles.
Keep your secrets safe online when you say yes to the dress
It’s horrible when one troll spoils the fun and trust for everyone but I urge you to keep your secrets safe when you’re posting online, even in private groups.
Here’s how you can protect yourself:
Post anything you wouldn’t want your other half or wedding guests to see anonymously.
If it’s advice on alterations or dress restyling you’re after, contact a seamstress/dressmaker instead of posting in a group – you’ll probably get better information anyway as I explained in another blog.
Consider using a different Facebook profile for all things wedding planning, which isn’t friends with anyone you need to keep things secret from.
Change your privacy settings to keep your friends list invisible and make posts in which you’ve tagged people private too.
Today The One Ring came full circle for me and I am so excited I just needed to make a note of it.
I’m currently working on the design for a custom veil with elements inspired by The Lord of The Rings. This is awesome enough I itself.
Here’s one I made earlier (in Italian)
Then this morning, I finally got to meet my very good friend’s mother-in-law who only bloody worked with JRR Tolkien himself! Ann worked with “Professor Tolkien” as she referred to him during his time at Oxford, and she told me he was lovely and, “Just like one of his characters.”
I asked which one and she said, “Tom Bombadil.”
I need to visit her again if she’ll have me to pester her in more depth.
It’s the question in Facebook groups that makes me twitch: “What are you paying for your wedding dress alterations?”
It’s usually asked to get an idea of how much the poster should expect to pay for their own.
With no additional info it’s probably the mechanics’ equivalent of, “How much will it cost to get my car through its MoT?” I even asked a similar question of the RAC man this week as he poked under my car bonnet to ascertain why it had stopped dead on the school run, would no longer start and even the hazard lights had given up the ghost.
The alternator was kaput he informed me as he closed the bonnet with a tinny click. “Oh. How much is a new alternator then?” I asked, trying to sound like I might know what an alternator actually was.
Even knowing the make, model and pitiful state of my car (*cough* rollerskate *cough*), he could only guesstimate a range of £70-£400+ before checking online. There are apparently many options.
And so it is with wedding dress alterations. Wildly variable. Moreso than alternators even.
What your alterations will cost depends on a great many things, chief among them:
Your dress. Specifically, its design, construction, structure and embellishments etc. Taking up a dress with two plain layers is much easier, quicker and therefore cheaper than a dress with 11 layers including one with a lace hem that needs to be unpicked and stitched back on. Does it have beaded lace covering the bodice seams that needs to be removed and replaced to bring it in, sleeves that need shortening or is it strapless, etc?
What you need doing. Your dress might need letting out taking up, taking in, straps shortened, sleeves narrowed, back shortened, new cups, extra support, a bustle hook (or 12), extra embellishments, custom embroidery, a reshaped neckline, bespoke elements and any combination of these.
Where you live. There are differences between countries and within countries. A dressmakers’ Facebook group I’m in is currently conducting a UK-wide survey to get an idea of what we charge for common alterations by region but it’s proving tricky because of the wide variation of work.
Where your seamstress works. Do they have the overheads of a studio or are they home-based? If home-based, have they had to buy a much larger house beyond the required living area to accommodate a home studio? ‘Working from home’ as a seamstress requires a lot more space – several rooms in my case – than a corner with a laptop.
The seamstress’s relationship with where you bought your dress. Are they attached to the boutique and recommended exclusively (as most boutiques work) or one of many on a list (like Wed2b provides), or did you find them yourself? When I’ve worked as the exclusive seamstress for boutiques, they’ve taken between 10 and 25% of my alterations charge as a referral fee, which I had to add on to the customer. With the Wed2b list for example, I don’t have to pay to be on it and don’t get paid by Wed2b. You also won’t pay the fee if you find the seamstress independently.
The skill level, training and experience of the seamstress. A dressmaker friend Anita Dudley points out that just as you would expect to pay more for a senior stylist in a hair salon, a more experienced seamstress will likely cost more. When I was starting out, I offered enormous discounts to counter my lack of track record, even though the work took me at least twice as long as it does now.
The level of service that comes as standard. Some pros steam or fully press every dress they get or even offer a full cleaning service or storage facility. Others might charge differently for regular fittings vs family and friends dress reveals with champagne and canapés.
Another dressmaker friend Amanda Davies reminded me that one thing highly unlikely to have a bearing on alterations costs is what you paid for your wedding dress in the first place.
I’ve done alterations that cost the bride £50; I’ve also done alterations that cost nearly £1,000. I could work out the mean, median and mode of those and everything in between but still wouldn’t come up with anything informative until I had seen your dress in person and knew what you needed doing.
My dressmaker friend Kate Edmondson reminds me here that one thing highly unlikely to have a bearing on alterations costs is what you paid for your wedding dress in the first place. You might have got an absolute bargain online, in a sample sale, or even brand new but if it takes the same amount of skill and time to alter as a much pricier dress, the cost to alter them will be the same. Yes, that does mean that sometimes alterations cost more than the dress itself.
My advice to find out how much YOUR wedding dress will cost to alter is to get recommendations of seamstresses in your area and get some quotes. You can also use it as an opportunity to see how well you click with different people. After all, this is an intimate, high-stakes process so make sure the person you choose is someone who gets you.
A good starting place if you’re in the UK is the Find Your Bridal Seamstress Facebook Group, which is linked to the group for pros I’m part of that is running the regional cost surveys I mentioned.
Some extensive alterations included completely reshaping the back of this dress.
The car gets a new alternator tomorrow. It’s costing £250. 😏
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.
‘Dress Regret’: the struggle is real – but IS surmountable
Between all the inquiries I get and social media bridal groups I’m in, something I see and hear almost daily is ‘dress regret’. You’ve bought/ordered your wedding dress and are now panicking you’ve made the wrong choice, should have tried more on, or worried about how you look in it.
You’re still bombarded with wedding day pics of couples looking awesome, not to mention designers’ perfectly styled publicity shots, and there will always be new collections, etc etc etc. You’ve had to choose one dress from almost infinite options so how can you ever feel you’ve got it right?
Out of the hundreds of brides I’ve worked with, I’ve only known two come for their fittings and then decide to buy a different dress, and both were already on their second or third dress at that point.
From experience, here’s a little reassurance about why dress regret creeps in and how we can thwart it:
Your dress doesn’t fit you – yet. All those wedding photos and publicity shots show well fitting dresses post-alterations (or clamped out of shot). Before alterations, it can just feel like you’re dressing up in someone else’s clothes. It gapes here, pinches there, is too long to fall properly, etc. Get to your seamstress and get it feeling like it’s actually YOUR dress.
You didn’t look for long enough. But tough shit, you can’t. You could buy the first dress you try on or you could try a different one on every day for years. It’s like studying for a test; when did you ever sit an exam and feel like you had revised ‘enough’?
You haven’t seen it in months. Many customers I see haven’t dared unpack their dress since the shop assistant expertly folded it between layers of tissue into its box. Some have stored it at someone else’s house so haven’t even been able to sneak a peek at it (especially true during lockdown). You might just need to refresh your memory of how gorgeous all the details are.
You’ve tried it on (or tried to) at home. Some dresses can’t be put on single-handedly, my own included. But I still tried, broke the hook and eye while trying to swivel it sideways and was then sufficiently paranoid I was going to burst through the seams Hulk-style on my wedding day that I (needlessly and knackeringly) crash dieted and even bought a back-up dress that never got worn. Don’t be me.
Being neurospicy. Indecision paralysis and the dopamine hit of buying something new are all the more challenging if you are autistic and/or have ADHD. Recognise if this is the case.
Others’ opinions – either too many or not enough. Take them on board but consider who they’re coming from and what their motives are. They’re not wearing it. They’re not you. Trust your own gut on what feels right for you.
Your body has changed since you bought it. Bodies are meant to change. You might have been ill, gained/lost weight, had a baby, gender reassignment, been breastfeeding, etc. It’s your seamstress’s job to make your dress fit your body, not yours to make your body fit your dress.
It’s a different time of your menstrual cycle. When I’m ovulating, I look (read: feel) like the sexiest person who ever lived. Two days before my period, I am (again, feel) hideous in everything (or, even worse, nothing).
The pressure to look ‘perfect’. Again, you can’t, because there’s no such thing. Even my husband and I affectionately describe each other as “almost perfect” because we recognise actual perfection doesn’t exist.
Want an objective opinion? I’m always happy to take a look at your dress either in person or pictures and give you options objectively (and kindly) so feel free to drop me a line.
Back in a previous lifetime when I worked on a student newspaper in the Canadian capital, I received a double award at the end of my year abroad: the International Correspondent Of The Year / What’s In It For Me? Award.
Apparently, in addition to my hard-nosed journalism covering the Zapatista movement in Mexico, I’d accidentally earned a reputation for only offering to review the movies and music we were sent if it was a DVD or CD I already knew I wanted (Robbie Williams’ North American debut album was a highlight).
No-one working for The Charlatan was getting paid, other than in honed journalistic skills and CV fillers. I’ve also worked for no pay on my student paper in the UK, my local newspaper in Bedford and the Evening Standard I’m London.
In this incarnation, as a weddingwear designer and dressmaker, I’ve also worked for no money. Here are some examples:
I made three wedding dresses for brides working in the NHS who had had to postpone their weddings because of Covid-19 lockdown. I had already decided to use the cancelled wedding season to make some sample dresses, then realised the time and fabrics would be better used for actual brides rather than my cupboard;
Rock n Roll Bride magazine asked me to make the Geri Halliwell inspired Union Jack cape (worn as a veil) for its ’90s icons shoot in return for a free place in the shoot (otherwise £250) plus social media inclusion and return of the cape which I wore to my child’s school Coronation party;
Credits below
Surprise additions for customers. Sometimes I add something blue, sometimes I include a gift or embroider their cat on their dress lining;
I did bridesmaid dress alterations because the bridesmaid suffered from the same condition I did 30-odd years ago and I finally had the chance to pay forward the kindness shown to me then. This was a spontaneous decision when she came to collect it;
Any time I’ve lent something I’ve made for a TFP (trade for print) photoshoot. No-one involved in these is paid.
In all of these cases, as altruistic as I might like to think I am, there has always been something in it for me. They might not pay the mortgage, but exposure and warm fuzzy feelings do count for something.
I’ve also made costumes for Star Wars (the Andor series) at minium wage to help out a friend and because STAR WARS!
Value
The crux of what I decide to do for no pay boils down to this: whether my work is being undervalued and/or the person I’m doing it for is exercising an inflated sense of entitlement.
This week’s risible request to “create synergy” with Miss Europe Continental for Amazon Prime galvanised my thoughts. In case you missed it, the “synergy” would have seen me design and create two gowns for a contestant at my own expense and for no pay AND I would have had to pay the organisers €1,980 for the privilege of my involvement. Never mind that the project manager requesting this hadn’t noticed that I only do bridalwear.
Other requests I’ve turned down include:
A discount because the couple had already overspent on other wedding supplies (like it would make me feel better to know that everyone else involved in the wedding got paid their dues, just not me);
A discount on alterations because they were going to cost more than half the purchase price of the dress (never mind that the dress in question was an absolute steal);
Let’s not forget the troll who was very cross my moon veils were out of her budget.
Finally, one I did agree to a discount for but only because she caught me off-guard, very early in my career. About an hour after her fitting, she called me and asked to cut her bill by nearly 30%.
Her hen-do dress that she’d also asked me to alter was dropped off to me unwashed and with sweat stains and crusted deodorant under the arms – where I was to take it in – and fake tan covering much of the rest. She spent her next fitting on the phone to a friend, boasting about how cheaply she wangled her latest wedding supplies and how much discount she’d got from someone else.
She doesn’t know I keep a list of customers I will never work with again but it makes me feel a bit better that I do. She’s the only person on it.
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 last blog post, confirming that I make wedding dresses etc for people of all sexes and genders, received a surprising amount of love for what I felt was simply a statement of the bleeding obvious.
So I hope I don’t lose any of that love by clarifying a couple of points. The first is about consent. When I said:
If there’s consent in your relationship, there’s no judgment, kink-shaming or awkward questions here.
I didn’t just mean consent in your relationship(s); I also meant with me.
I’ve had requests to make wedding dresses for individuals for whom wearing one is – their words – a sexual fantasy or fetish.
This isn’t an issue. Like I said, no judgment or kink-shaming here. UNLESS – and it is a big UNLESS – UNLESS you expect me to play an active role in the actual sexual experience.
There is a big difference between having me create a wedding dress with which you do what you want afterwards, and the fetishised experience of being measured, fitted and dressed in your gown – by me – for sexual gratification.
I understand that I am sexually irresistable but sorry, I’m not down with that.
Someone once called me to ask if I could provide a three-hour bridal dressing up experience – hair, make-up and all – to fulfil a sexual fantasy. I can’t whip up a wedding dress in that time (he thought I kept ready-made stock), and I don’t think he realised my studio is home-based.
Consequently, I didn’t get as far as asking what he expected me to actually be doing during this time, whether I would be there too or be sitting with my children in the next room until it was time to start the clean-up.
There are companies that provide such fantasy dress-up experiences, and I found one to recommend to him. If you’re interested, it was in Brighton but it was pre-Covid and I forget the name. You can Google it. Maybe don’t use your work laptop.
Anyway, I appreciate he actually asked me, i.e. sought my consent.
Unlike the next chap.
I can’t get into the psychology of flashers but this one felt one step away as he forced details of his fantasy on me (and several of my dressmaker friends is turned out), heavy breathing and sneering down the withheld number.
It started routinely enough: could I make two matching dresses. Of course.
One for his mum. Absolutely.
The other for him. No problem.
Because he enjoyed dressing up with her in her underwear and… I missed whatever the next bit was in all the heavy breathing and the sneering.
I think – I hope – I disappointed him by not being outwardly shocked. Instead I told I’d be very happy to, thanked him for being brave enough to share such personal details and that I’d be happy to send him payment details for the booking fee. But I’m still angry that he forced a sexual experience (for himself) on me without my consent, and did so again with others.
Anyway, I digress as I doubt this was actually a genuine inquiry. So, on to those.
