Archive for March, 2009

Dresses are a hard subject for me. For years, I haven’t worn dresses. Generally I don’t feel like they suit me; sometimes they’re too frilly, too sexy, too little, too much, or just plain unflattering. The only dress I seem destined to wear is the ill-fated bridesmaid dress. These dresses are generally not my favourite, but there has been one notable exception.

The very first time I was a bridesmaid was for my sister Sarah’s wedding. She was getting married to a man we barely knew who she had met on a student exchange in Spain. Jose Luis was a friend of the student she was boarding with, and he had all the tell-tale signs of a bad choice for my sister – he was almost ten years older, had never been out of Spain, did not speak English, had no more than a grade 7 education, and was an unskilled labourer. Sarah was 19, spoke four languages fluently, was a gifted student, and was hopelessly in love. When she told me that she had decided to marry this man, at the age of 17 and in no rush to get married myself, I didn’t receive the news with much optimism. But like most sisters, Sarah never listened to me, and within a few weeks of her announcement, the wedding plans were finalized. On April 24, 1990, she would marry Jose Luis Sanchez in Mijares, a tiny town in the mountains of central Spain. I would be her maid of honour and – the best part – I could choose my own dress for the wedding.

Frankly, shopping has never been my thing, and I seem to have deleted from my memory all the recollection of the shopping marathon we undertook to find me a dress. But I remember absolutely everything about the moment we finally found it. Although my regular wardrobe was all shades of black and grey in plain fabrics and lean silhouettes, the dress that caught my eye was a rich turquoise jewel-tone made of raw silk. And it was enormous. An elegant strapless bodice supported a full, layered skirt that would have seemed at home in the grandiose setting of “Gone With The Wind.” Stepping into the dress, I felt as if I was stepping into another world, a world of ruffles and romance. It seemed impractical for the steep cobble-stoned streets of Mijares, but my mother and sister both agreed. This was my dress.

On the day of the wedding, my grand, formal, over-the-top dress was the perfect costume for the day that was nothing less than a fairy tale. Guided by four musicians, the wedding party paraded through the narrow streets toward the church, while the townspeople lined the streets in celebration and hung out their windows to share in the event. In every moment that followed, from the church to the town square, to the dinner and reception, I could not have felt more blessed – that I had been given an opportunity to inhabit such a decadent gown in such a charming place on such a magical day.

The dress is long gone now, hopefully being enjoyed by another young girl. But Sarah and Jose Luis have been married for 18 years, Jose Luis is my brother in every sense of the word, and their daughter Avila is the love of my life. With the sweet memory of my beautiful dress, the fairy tale continues.

Amanda Clyne, Toronto, Ontario