What happened when I gave ChatGPT the same brief I got to design Coral’s bee-inspired prom dress
“Create a prom dress for a girl who loves bees.”
Who responded better to the brief? You decide.
That was the prompt I gave ChatGPT, essentially the brief I myself had from my daughter Coral, AFTER I’d already designed her dress, just to see what it would come up with.
It’s not bad, but it’s not groundbreakingly creative either.
🐝 We both went for similar golden honey shades BUT AI stuck with the trending monotone, while we layered in some ivory, orange and burgundy to create an ombre effect;
🐝 We (briefly) considered embroidering or beading bees onto the dress but decided they too readily resemble flies at a distance or under disco lighting;
🐝 Although it was relevant in this case, I’ve yet to see AI show someone who’s not white in its generative renderings unless specifically prompted. This even happened when Coral once asked what our two black cats would look like as humans, and ChatGPT rendered them white teenagers.
🐝 Had I been stuck for ideas, it might have proven a useful starting point, but I think that’s about it.
BTS
Here’s a bit of behind the scenes on the making of Coral’s bee-inspired prom dress:
The making of Coral’s bee-inspired prom dress
🐝 It was originally going to be a TARDIS-inspired dark blue;
🍯 It used nine different fabrics including two types of glitter tulle, several organzas and silk satin I dyed myself;
🐝 I made 48 anatomically correct, individually embroidered bee wings which took nearly two weeks on their own;
🍯 I made the embroidered honeycomb fabric for the bodice myself because we couldn’t find anything quite right;
🐝 It was the only multicoloured dress I saw at the prom;
🍯 It took around two months’ full-time work spread over six months;
🐝 It would therefore cost around £4,000 to make bespoke for a client (which is why I don’t generally make prom dresses);
🍯 There are several things we’d change if we were starting again, including cutting the bodice lower, making it an actual corset (rather than a corset-style top) for better bust support, and we’d probably have to make the bodice opaque as the tulle we lined it with – although superfine – caused some sensory issues.
🐝 Coral is my favourite girl in the entire world. Put her in charge of it. Please.
Ten years on from the vote to leave the EU, many people are still surprised when I tell them that I can no longer sell my veils to customers in EU countries. To do so, I would need to have a representative physically located in an EU country and, as a sole trader based in the UK, I don’t.
There are of course agencies that have set in the EU up offering to represent UK sellers, but the fees are simply too high for me to do this. So I had to stop selling to all EU countries.
Etsy, where most of my veils sales come from, did this automatically, so my veils don’t even appear in search results in the EU.
I don’t suppose anyone who voted for Brexit realised this was what they were voting for. Perhaps they consider it a side effect of Brexit. This is not a side effect of Brexit. This IS Brexit.
As far as I’m aware, there is no such reciprocal restriction on EU businesses selling to the UK (nor do I believe there should be). So Brexit has put British small businesses at a global disadvantage. I really hope I’m wrong on this so please, I beg you, correct me if I am.
However, it’s on a more personal level that Brexit continues to break my heart. I am British but European is a major part of my identity. With a German grandma, I have extensive family in Germany, one of whom headed a British school in London. She wouldn’t be able to do that now.
I speak German, albeit not perfectly. My French is worse but I get by. I’ve also studied Italian, Greek and Portuguese (but don’t test me on those), and I’m currently learning Spanish. I love languages.
It was embarrassing when I travelled to Germany – for a family funeral – shortly after the vote to see people’s reactions when they realised I was British. The UK was a laughing stock, seen as arrogant, stupid and incompetent. I made sure I knew the German for, “Please don’t hate me; I voted Remain.”
When my passport came up for renewal – and it’s still a burgundy one – this was the necklace I wore in the photo. I wear it every time I travel. It never fails to get me an extra hug.
In Travemünde, Germany, in May this year.My passport photo necklace, from Tatty Devine
How much of the cost of a veil actually lands in my pocket? The answer, it turned out when I tried to work it out, is not straightforward. I’m not sure whether I was surprised by the figure I kind of landed on, but I found it interesting enough to share it.
This example is based on an Etsy order I received before Christmas for a fingertip Happily Ever After veil.
Woohoo! A new order!
With the local taxes in the customer’s US homeland, the total paid by them Etsy was £421.20 (~$567.72 US).
Before the money leaves Etsy, there are a few immediate deductions, which Etsy very kindly lays out:
Fees laod out by Etsy
I get a little confused here because if you take that £83.58 away from £390 (after tax), you get £306.42 (right?!), but what lands in my bank account a few days later is actually slightly more, £310.52. Where the extra £4.10 came from is anyone’s guess but I’m not complaining, especially in low season.
The mystery figure that landed in my bank account
Either way, I then have some more hard costs to cover:
Hard costs for shipping and packaging
I use (almost award-winning; highly commended in the Quirky Awards 2023) sustainable packaging from Tishwish, Royal Mail’s international tracked & signed service with extra insurance, plus the new US 10% import duty (and Royal Mail’s 50p fee for handling this for me). All this brings what landed in my.bank account down to £242.52.
That’s before I even buy the materials for the veil itself.
Hard costs for veil materials
I make enough veils that I can buy many of these in modest bulk – not exactly the economies of scale big manufacturers see, but, for example, I can halve the cost of tulle by buying it in 50m rolls, knowing I’ll get through it. So, the cost of the raw materials of this particular veil are £26.52, just under 7% of the purchase price, bringing the total going to me to £217.
So let’s consider the time it takes to turn a pile of tulle, thread and ribbon into a Happily Ever After fingertip veil. It takes approximately three days to cut, embroider, sew and assemble to completion, so call it 24 working hours, based on an eight-hour working day.
I set my hourly rate at £75, but the time taken to make this veil for £217 slash that to just £9 per hour, which isn’t even minimum wage.
How much per hour
However, most of the time required to make this veil is for embroidering which my machine (theoretically at least) can mostly get on with without me. So, let’s say only a quarter of those three days requires me hands on. That brings my hourly rate to a more palatable £36 per hour, but still less than half what I should be charging (more on this here).
But, and here’s where it gets a bit tricky to calculate again, we need to consider the cost of that beautiful embroidery machine, and all the other equipment I need to make the veil.
What I bought to make my veils
Embroidery machines are EXPENSIVE. I bought mine, an entry-level industrial multi-needle embroidery machine (swoon), for £6,000 a couple of years ago. It literally cost six times more than I paid for my car (priorities, my queens). For context, the next model up is £10,000. Even my first (now back-up) embroidery machine was £1,200 seven years ago, and that only has a single needle, meaning I have to rethread it myself for every colour change, which is every three minutes or so for this veil.
The software I use to create and edit my embroidery designs was £900 and I’ve since paid a further £250-ish for the latest edition. There’s also my Cricut (£300) which even actually works sometimes, but I do have to swear at it a lot first.
A few further costs not included in the image above are my business insurance (public liability, professional indemnity, stock in trust, etc) which is another £500-odd a year; machine servicing at around £200-300 a year and miscellaneous business costs including phone/WiFi bill, mortgage, etc.
As tricky as it is to put a fair price on my work, I think I usually get it about right. I only employ myself and I feel well compensated, so that’s a decent measure, plus I absolutely adore my job.
If you think I should be earning more for what I create, please consider that the next time you see a veil or wedding dress on an ultra-fast fashion site for next to nothing, and think about what the person who actually made it will earn from it.
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?
How did THIS become a time of sheer joy, in which I was willing the tyre guy to take his time rescuing me?
The hard shoulder of the M25 with a flat tyre is not the best start to a Saturday evening, especially when the RAC guy discovers the spare wheel you’ve had stashed in the boot for eight years doesn’t even belong to – or therefore fit – your car.
I’d had a brilliant day, the first of three on a tea-charged corsetry course (www.moodycorsetry.co.uk), and had foregone having a wee before I left because I figured I could last the 50 minute drive home, even after several cups of tea throughout the afternoon.
Ten minutes in, a lot of smoke from my front nearside wheel announced I should have gone when I’d had the chance. When the RAC’s ETA was two hours, I hopped a fence, scrambled up a bank and found some trees where I could cop a squat in the rain and have a good think about my choices.
A 90 minute wait for the RAC bled into a short 45mph limp on a neon orange loaned wheel and a further hour’s wait for the emergency tyre man at Cobham Services. Blue and shivering from the cold, I parked as far as I could from the backfiring, revving engines of a boy racer meet and tried to find consolation in an overpriced chai latte.
But then the cavalry arrived. Not the tyre man, but my beautiful bride Charlotte dropped her full wedding album. And oh my goodness, I could have sat shivering in the middle of that boy racer meet all night. Because LOOK.
I hope you enjoy these pics as much as I did, wherever you are to see them.
Couple: Charlotte & Sam (@worldof_char and @sarnuel) 26/07/25 The longest veil I’ve ever made, at five metres (just under 200″), with bespoke embroidery and trimmed with exquisite appliquèd lace.
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.
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
“Do you make wedding dresses for men?” To answer an increasingly FAQ, I make wedding dresses, veils, bridalwear* FULL STOP. For whoever wants it. Women, men, non-binary people, everyone.
I don’t care what your wee comes out of; just don’t leave any on my loo seat.
You are very welcome to, but don’t even have to, tell me how you identify, what you were assigned at birth or whether that differs now, whom, how many – or even whether – you’re marrying. If there’s consent in your relationship, there’s no judgment, kink-shaming or awkward questions here.
Oversharers are always welcome (hello, kindred spirits!) and the only things I ask all my customers to tell me relate purely to the tasks of designing something you will love and making sure it fits you perfectly:
1. Are you anticipating changing your weight, shape or size before you wear what I’m making you? These don’t make it impossible, but need to be factored in. For example, are/will you be:
Pregnant or trying to conceive?
Breastfeeding?
Undergoing surgery?
Taking medication such as hormones or steroid therapies?
Dieting?
Body-building?
2. What else will you be wearing? Bring everything to fittings that changes your shape, size or height including:
Padded bras, cups or inserts (I have a well-stocked basket of boobs you can try if you don’t have your own);
Padded pants;
Shape-wear, corsetry, binder, etc;
Prosthetics;
Shoes.
*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.
Perhaps we should be rivals, but we don’t see it that way. There’s plenty of work to go around and we need to know who we can recommend when we’re fully booked. And you can’t work in weddings and not have at least one back-up plan if something takes you out of action in peak season; last year for example, just as I recovered from Covid, I broke my arm. The year before, I’d picked up brides when a dressmaker friend broke her leg.
We have Facebook groups, WhatsApp groups and Christmas parties. We celebrate each other’s new shop openings, dress designs, birthdays and business anniversaries.
More tellingly, we are open and vulnerable with each other. We ask for advice and help. We admit when we don’t know the technique for something or have never used a particular machine or stitch.
Even better, within minutes usually, someone provides the answer and willingly, voluntarily, steps in to teach what we need to know.
Last month, I wanted to know how to do a delicate edging stitch I’d seen at the V&A’s Chanel exhibition. Unfortunately in that case, it turned out I would need two new machines: a picot hemming machine and a time machine, because picot hemming machines haven’t been manufactured for a century, BUT it was dressmakers in my network who told me this.
Anyway. I’m going to go against the sisterhood grain here and call someone out, albeit not by name.
I’d made a veil a bride not local to me who was having her dress altered by someone else. I’d made her friend’s wedding dress a few years back and included a bustle hook as standard, and she asked her seamstress to add one to her dress. She even described quite specifically the type she wanted (there are several).
When she went to pick her dress up, there was no bustle hook. Instead, the seamstress handed her these three safety pins.
This is not a bustle hook. “Just use these,” my bride was told.
There are bustle pins you can buy, but I’ve never recommended them. Figuring out which bits of many layers to attach them to, usually at the point of the wedding when most people have had a few sherberts, is not simple. Worse, they make holes in the fabric, and my bride asked whether this would happen.
“Yes,” was the response, “but hopefully no-one will see them.”
Pick. My. Jaw. Off. The. Floor.
I want to give the seamstress the benefit of the doubt. We all have off days. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she was rushed. Maybe she didn’t actually know how to bustle this dress but she’a a professional seamstress workong with a bridal boutique. Maybe there was a reason she couldn’t do it that hasn’t occurred to me, because I can’t fathom why she recommended this.
I’m not local or available in time so couldn’t do it myself but, predictably, someone from my needle ninja network stepped in within hours to add the bustle hook (thank you again, Tina).
A member of our Facebook group said of she found out the safety pin seamstress was a member, she’d be kicked out.
Another customer, a tattoo artist, was in awe when I told her about how supportive dressmakers are, and was rightly envious. She told me that her industry was rife with rivalry and bitchiness.
We are so passionate about what we do and seeing it done well. Keep your safety pins for emergencies, not your bustles.
