Dresses I have Loved and Lost

An old friend sent me a photograph the other day of my mother at her mother’s second wedding. It was touching to see the new-to-me picture of my beautiful mother but when my eye wandered to the background, I saw my friend wearing my prom dress! I remembered then that my mother had loaned my Jr. prom dress to her to wear for this event when I was away at college.

A few weeks ago, I went searching for images of this demure mint-green chiffon dress, my first formal. High ruffled collar with a chaste bow at the neck, fetching see-through puffed sleeves, and the part I loved best:  the long chiffon overlay just barely hiding embroidered flowers underneath. The following are dresses I was careless with, loaned out, gave away, or they simply didn’t make the cut during moves to new apartments and houses.

Next was my Gunne Sax prom dress, also junior year of high school, 1973.  Wanting something different because the soiree was to be held at a hotel dressed up like a castle, my mother found a fantastic cotton dress from Gunne Sax, by designer Jessica McClintock, the woman who dressed my generation in nostalgic but upscale “granny dresses”.  And the example my mother bought for me was first-rate.

Long and beige with fancy and whimsical “rick-rack” outlining the sleeves (which ended in romantic points on my hands), my dress left granny behind and edged into King Arthur’s Geneviere. And by the way, Gunne Sax dresses are currently bidding up to $1000 apiece on eBay.

Also worth mentioning, is a dress I can only recall with a tear in my eye, – the purple cotton dress with the red rick-rack that my mother bought with a secret intent.  There is a heartrending story to go along with this frock which I wrote about here.

For some reason, green dresses appeal and the reason may lie within the folds of my Sr. Prom dress.  Again, selected with the help of my fashionable mother, this dress was much different than the ones my classmates wore at the time. Instead of Little-Bo-Peep inspired frocks, we found a very sophisticated, long, v-neck green floral with butterfly sleeves. The colors were vibrant and just missed an upholstered look with its contemporary styling.  There was also a very fine veil of crinoline under the skirt for fullness which enhanced the waist and kept the dress feminine despite its bold colors and pattern.  I wore it with bright white platform sandals and the look was reminiscent of 1970’s Yves St. Laurent-boho-at-Versailles.  I know that sounds grandiose but this dress was special.

I once had a lovely cream knit dress, the bodice of which was smocked and form-fitting.  The balloon sleeves came to my wrists and held fast with hidden elastic.  At the end of the smocking a small dirndl flared out, short and child-like and I felt lucky-to-be-young-and-alive in it.  I wore it to my grandparents’ anniversary party with t-strapped shoes in bone.  Before the party, my mother said, “Wait until your grandfather sees you in that dress”.  At first, I thought she disapproved of its shortness but later that night my shy grandfather spoke the most touching words when he said he could not take his eyes off me.

I wore another green dress as a young working woman. This hue was more of a grassy one which made it perfect for late spring. What I most loved was the fabric which I wish I knew the name of – a cotton blend but with the feel of voile. It had the teeniest wooden buttons, from the Peter Pan collar all the way to where the deep hem began, a self-tied belt to cinch the waist and a lovely swishy skirt that you could hear.  For underneath, I bought a long nylon half slip and matching camisole with just enough scratch to announce its lacy presence peeking under the open collar.  I still remember the venerable old shop in town where I bought it which may have been the most modern piece they ever carried, having been a clothing purveyor for over 100 years.

Next in line of course, was my wedding dress. We found it at a bridal shop on the second floor of the new mall.  It was nothing like today’s mermaid, sheaths, and strapless styles with a high collar and long sleeves.  Dotted with dainty floral appliques, each with a tiny rhinestone in the center, it was very demure.  What I loved was the wide hem of accordion pleats.  My eye travels to those pleats whenever I see a picture of the gown.  It’s gone forever but I do know what happened to this one – after the divorce I stuffed it into my daughter’s dress-up box and she played with it for years – even wearing it one Halloween as a costume.

Glamour often advertised maternity clothes with small line sketches in the ad section at the back of its magazine.  No one at the time displayed their pregnant form with skin-tight clothing as is done today – most maternity clothes were tent-like.  But the dress I spotted, although full and flowing, had a slimness to it and I ordered it through their catalog service.

Turns out, it wasn’t a true maternity dress after all and was made by a British designer whose name I can’t recall (not Laura Ashley). Still, it was perfect for my changing body. I loved the cheerful polka-dots sprigged all over the navy blue background, the white pique collar and the long thin red bow tie.  Wearing red patent leather pumps with it, I felt like Princess Diana, who had given birth just a year before.  It was one of only two maternity dresses I had. I mail ordered again for an unusual two-piece pale green dress with cabbage roses that had a knit collar and cuffs. I have kept both of Glamour’s ad sketches in a scrapbook.

My sister bought me a silk moire gown in the most luscious of colors for her evening wedding.  Depending upon movement and light, the dress was either grey or orchid.  Empire-waist with a wonderful flow, it had a square neckline which I filled with a delicate diamante chain that also caught the light. To cover my bare arms, I added a grey cashmere shrug and wore silver sandals with rhinestone buckles.  I still have this dress tucked away and although I never wore it again, it is so timeless, it could be trotted out today.

In more recent years, I found a happy Liberty-print summer dress. It’s short with modified puffed sleeves and is darling – a real 1960’s Junior High art teacher kind of dress –  simple, hip and bright.  I may pass this one on to my granddaughter one day.

I lovingly think of other dresses that are long-gone but too numerous to describe here.  A peach qiana formal from college, an embroidered white dress worn in third grade, the blue velvet my grandmother made me which you can read about here, and a few others.  Except for the Liberty shift and the gown my sister bought me, the ones lost to time are especially on my mind whenever I  visit a really good vintage clothing shop.  It is there that I get starry-eyed with imagination and remembrance of all the beautiful dresses I have loved.

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