Watching my wedding clothes as they are dragged on the floor

My husband was desperately trying to meet a deadline this morning, so I got my daughters to play upstairs while I did some badly-needed clothes weeding.  He had the downstairs to himself, nice and quiet so he could concentrate on his work.

At some point, while scooting hangers from side to side in the closet, I remembered that I have been promising my girls that we’d look at my wedding clothes and that they could try them on.

Without too much trouble, I found the gorgeous cape that a close friend made for me to wear over my wedding outfit (a white close-fitting sweater with gold thread woven throughout and a creamy white floor-length trumpet-flare skirt, both very simple pieces by Nicole Miller).  The cape is creamy white velvet, with a deep red satin lining.  The red is the color of garnets, my birth stone.

My dear friend Nancy had worn a cape when she got married, and I had loved it.  Also, I thought a cape blowing in the wind would be very romantic.  Dwayne and I were married in Carmel, CA, on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Djuna tried on the cape first.  Before I could say anything, she lifted up her hand — with the cape on top of it — to wipe her nose.  I winced.  But I didn’t say anything about it because she looked so excited to be wearing the cape she’s only seen in pictures up to now.  I told her to go down and show her father.

She headed down the stairs to show Daddy, and I stood watching her and the cape, my pretty, pretty cape, as it dragged on the floor behind her.  Then she came back upstairs to give the cape to her sister so she could drag the cape behind her on the stairs.

Remembering that my own mother used her wedding veil — to my grandmother’s horror — to make a mosquito netting for my fancy English pram, I watched Dinah sashay down the stairs to show Daddy the cape, and I figured, well, what else are wedding clothes for, for goodness’ sake?