Dresses, An Origin Story (feat. Mom)
Rocking the fancy dress and baseball cap YEARS before J Crew started doing it…
I was in second grade, and all I wanted for Christmas was the black velvet dress with white chiffon sleeves. Ok, that’s not true, I probably also asked for like 3 barbies and an American Girl Doll (spoiler alert: I wasn’t getting it), but this dress was pretty high up there. This was not some super-special thing- it was, in retrospect, an exceedingly average party dress (so average, we couldn’t even find a picture of it). But IT CAME FROM THE STORE and that’s all that mattered.
See, around Christmas and Easter, our mom would take us around the stores, where we’d point out dresses we liked. She would then painstakingly recreate them for us in the fabrics of our choosing. EVERY holiday, like a g.d. wizard. Mom was a master of poofy sleeves and sailor collars, and we loved it.
My hair and my skirt are the same shape, which was important in the early ’90s
That is, until the fateful Christmas of the aforementioned black dress. As usual, my mom started to suggest ways we could improve it when she made her version- special colors or prettier flowers (this dress had a couple little rosebuds at the neckline); maybe a nicer chiffon for the sleeves. But my mind was made up. I had to have THIS dress, the “real” one. A homemade version would not do. All my friends had storebought dresses- why couldn’t I? (Baby’s first economic inferiority complex)
My mom acquiesced, probably because it was $20 at Target and it would save her about 30 hours. So I got my store-bought dress and proudly donned it for Christmas Eve Mass. I felt very wealthy and sophisticated, with my polyester chiffon sleeves. I had arrived.
Well, turns out my friend Sarah’s weird older sister, Lori, had also arrived. IN THE SAME DRESS.
I was horrified. Even at 7 years old, I knew this was not ideal. The only time I’d ever worn the same outfit as someone else was for portraits at Olan Mills with my sisters, for which we’d sport matching tie-dye jumpsuits or white Easter hats. That was one thing. But to be wearing the same dress as Lori?
As I fumed in my pew, I vowed that this wouldn’t happen again.
A happier Christmas, when the only matching gals in church were the Wisniewski sisters. Our bangs are so blunt, they’re almost fashion.
I was never foolish enough to turn down a handmade dress from my mom again- and once I got old enough to use a sewing machine without stitching my fingers together, she began to teach me to sew. Together, we made prom dresses, recital gowns, dresses for school events. My closet started to become a timeline crafted from cloth and thread, each hanger marking both a major milestone and a leveling up in skill. Simple circle skirts with wobbly hems gave way for dresses made from the “Advanced” patterns at JoAnn Fabrics. In turn, those were supplanted by designs of my own making (with various degrees of success), and then finally, led to an expensive 4-year degree in what essentially boils down to ‘Fancy Dress Studies.’ But it all started in the craft room, next to my mom, watching her work her magic.
Now, as Nick and I have been sharing the news of our engagement over the past couple months, it tends to go a little something like this:
“Congratulationsareyoumakingyourowndress?”
And of course, the answer is yes. But just to be safe, Lori is not invited.
Some additional samples of my mom’s work:
Me and Kirsten at our best and cutest. Can’t get enough of these two dresses- good job, Mom.
Easter: Freakiest bunny, cutest dresses.
Still the dress I remember being the most excited for- it had the sickest roses on the butt and I was all about that illusion neckline.
And of course, the fine-a$$ lady that made it all happen. How f***ing Christmas-chic is it to coordinate the green belt and black dress with her red-clad daughters??? Thanks, Mom, you’re the best and I love you!
