Making the Cut

Yes, the Archives has seen a hiatal absence from me as I enter into the month of my nuptials. The Bohemian and I wed on November 29th and my creative focus has been honing in on a little notebook full of lists.

I’ve been told that this wedding business is often aided by the act of surrender, which I got to practice the day before Halloween. Seems the seamstress I gave my wedding dress to, did not write in her notes that I only wanted the front of the dress hemmed, thereby leaving the back to train behind me – one of my favorite features of this long-sought-for gown.

Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”

So there I was in Jeb’s bedroom. He’s trying on his Halloween costume inspired by the Scream (No, he’s not seen the horror film. Yes, he got an art history lesson on Edvard Munch) and I’m putting on my hem-hacked wedding dress through tears. We were quite a pair standing there, side by side in the full length mirror.

Me, digesting my train-less state and he, heart-high, mask mouth frozen in a howl, nestled against my wedding laced chest. I’m being hugged by thin arms in a black robe, as words come from behind the stricken face that smells of processed plastic.

The voice of an eight year old saying, “It’s ok, mom. The dress looks beautiful. You look like a princess.”

I take a deep breath. “I know. It’s going to be fine. I’m just feeling disappointed. It’s not the way I was imagining it would be.”

I’ve been warned about of this. A bridal moment when things don’t go as perfectly planned. Seven inches of my wedding dress’s fabric are in the recycle bin of the tailor shop and there’s no undoing the cut. I can freak out or move on.

Jeb’s mask, nuzzled at my chest is forever frozen in a silent scream. Looks like he’s got the horror part covered. Guess my part is to “oh well” and move on.

Besides, in the midst of news reports on the destruction of Hurricane Sandy, this flubbed alteration episode seems petty. Millions were without power, and people lost lives, homes, and businesses. I just lost a little of my fashion flair.

The seamstress, she tries to right it. Offers to have me bring the dress back and reinsert the fabric. We’ll have to add lace to camouflage the seam. She’ll need the dress for another two weeks. As my schedule fills, it looks hard to carve the time to bring the dress back.

Yes, I had envisioned a trail of lace flowing behind me and no, that is not my current hemline. But the mantra of this wedding has been to keep it simple. Cut out anything extraneous.

And in the end, I choose the path of least resistance. I had a good cry for five minutes. Mourned the loss of a vision unrealized. Now I’m just accepting. Ok, next. I’ve got a book of lists and more checkmarks to pencil in.

Wedding dress? Check.

Hey, without a train, maybe there’s less to trip me up.

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