"Here Comes The Bride!"

Recently I went with my future daughter in law, K, and her mother, to choose K's wedding dress.

She looked gorgeous; on glimpsing his bride, my son will be enchanted.

And now I'm remembering..

My wedding dress was white satin; it had sleeves made up entirely of lace daisies.
A year later, I sold it to a twelve year old Rose Queen; she dyed it pink and wore it with a tiara made of tinsel. She rode on a milk float and conquered the world. Well, she made waves in her village, at least..
BUT NOW I wish I'd kept my dress, let it hang prettily for ever at the back of my wardobe amongst jeans and sweaters and everyday things....

They're emotional, lovely things, wedding dresses.
There are stories attached to wedding dresses.

Someone dear to me once told me how, on moving into a flat in East London, she decided to strip wallpaper. Beneath several layers, she found a wedding dress, pinned and flattened to the wall. It was damp, yellowing and musty, but nevertheless, it was someone's wedding dress and why it should be there, hidden away beneath purple stripes, orange flowers, it was anyone's guess..

Then another story: one morning in St Ives as we sipped coffee by the harbour, we were joined on our bench by an elderly lady. She was scruffy, graceful, with the dignity of the very old and the bearing of the once highly priveleged. Her skin was tanned and wrinkled, and her hair, long and white and braided. And her eyes had that wonderful faded blue of the once very beautiful.

I slurped my coffee and stole glances.

I peered at her long paint-splattered fingers, at her stained silk scarf glittering with sea greens, aquamarine, the yellowness of golden sands. I stared at her silver ballet slippers, scuffed and muddy, and at the dark military coat she wore buttoned to her neck, despite the new delight of a warm April day.

And then she spoke: " So warm!" she said and her voice was a flute, a melody: "So welcome, this sun, isn't it?" and she unbuttoned the coat, pulled it off and I stared, of course, and she laughed, of course, and her laugh was rich and vibrant like the air itself: "You're looking at my dress, my dear. It's my wedding dress and I wear it for Spring. I wear it because April has come.I wear it because I remember my husband's love.."

And then she stood up to show off her dress, its lace and ribbons, its sash, its furbelows, all its prettiness.Then she smiled, a wide and lovely smile, and she touched my face with her bony fingers and then she sat for a while watching sea and gulls and boats while sun shone and we sipped coffee silently, sitting peacefully by the harbour..

**This painting ( Lady Lever Art Gallery, Port Sunlight) is " Wedding Morning" by John Henry Frederick Bacon ( 1866-1913). It was bought from the Royal Academy by Lord Leverhulme as an advert for his Sunlight soap. In his advert, soap replaced the clock on the mantlepiece and also the china on the table...

Critics varied in their views; the painting was described as " an essay in lighting" by one and as " hackneyed" by another.