Like I’ve said before, my mother was a talented artist, crafty and creative. I had the most imaginative costumes growing up, so I kept the tradition and transformed my kid’s playroom into a fantasy room like Narnia-armoire-meets-Alice-in-Wonderland type of world.
When I was about ten, I came back from school to tell my mother that the birthday party I was supposed to attend that same day suddenly became a costume party, there on the fly, because the birthday girl threw a tantrum over breakfast and her mother went along with the brat’s wishes. We are talking about the early 80s, with no access to the internet as we know it, no social media to get inspiration from, no online shopping, and just a few hours to come up with an outstanding costume.
My mother accepted the challenge just for me because she did not want me to be the only one without a costume, even though she did not sympathize with the parents' management of the situation. So, how do you make a memorable outfit that looks and feels breathtaking in just a couple of hours? You get creative.
As I do here in Chicago, back in Quito, Ecuador, where we were posted* at the time due to my father's job as a diplomat for the United Nations, my mother had an atelier filled floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall with raw materials: papers, fabric, paints… You name it, she had it! Sewing a dress would take longer and she said: “How about a long puffy fairy dress? If it was today, we would use the term “Fairycore”, which describes to the T’s what she meant. All white, puffy, like a fairy princess. I was so excited that I could not wait. And then she added: “Made of paper.” My ten-year-old brain could not process the idea. I imagined myself covered in newspapers. I understood that we were to make a point with the “last-minute-costume,” but it was too much for my undeveloped neurons to understand. I frowned and she said: “trust the process.” And so, I did, after all, she was a brilliant mind. An hour later she called me into her atelier. She had her haute couture mannequin covered with a light muslin fabric. She retrieved a wand from my toy bin and said a bunch of magic words as she revealed the dress. Astonishing! It was an all-white, very detailed, and tailored dress made of thick crepe paper, which gave it sturdiness and flexibility at the same time. It fitted me like a glove and it looked like out of a bridal magazine. I became a magical fairy with the touch of a wand of my (god) mother.
My mom was undoubtedly an avant-garde artist for her time. If I were to picture it nowadays, I'd think of Isabelle de Borchgrave and her ability to turn "simple rag paper" and create the illusion of haute couture with her Papiers à la Mode collection back in The Baker Museum of Artis Naples exhibit back in 2014, or the Baroque Elegance of her 18th Century exhibit at the 2023 Bergamo Brescia House Museum.
Needless to say, everyone was in awe because my last-minute costume looked like it took days to become tangible. And my mom saved the day once again like she always did. I guess that solving problems was her staple.
So I guess that this story set the tone and became a part of the idea board for my wedding dress and suite. I had white crepe flowers custom-designed for my invitation, mimicking the dress guipure that we hand-picked together. Mom made my wedding dress and it was a one-of-a-kind whimsical piece of art that has perpetuated in time and that reminds me of her patience, her dedication, her eye for detail, and all the special moments that brought us together while designing this magic dress and bringing it to life. The stories behind the pieces and the intentional details come together magically to create perfection.
* They used to refer to the location as the “Destination Job” which got me thinking: is that the reason why I adore a nice Destination Wedding?
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