Another loss, but planned at least

Yesterday I wrapped up the dress in this photo in brown paper and gaffer tape and sent it, courtesy of R, to an address in Kent. Its final destination (if it makes it, that is): Burundi, central Africa, to a wedding dress rental shop in need of stock.

I'd been rather a slack wedding dress shopper. There was too much flounce, too much choice, too many gleeful shopping assistants camping it up. I'd had fun trying some on, but always ended up in the department store cafe, dressless, guzzling another cappucino and the clock ticking.

So I asked my designer friend Jeanne to make me one. "What did you have in mind?" she asked, looking me (rather rudely) up and down.
"Umm. Something simple but classy. Not shoulder-less. Something that doesn't make my bum look big."

Soon after that I came to her flat with my arms full of oyster-coloured Duchess satin from John Lewis. (I had learnt that no-one really gets married in white, it's always not-quite-white: hence oyster, pearl, etc.) And some properly white, Maribou feathers. "How about this for the trim?" I gushed. "You'll look like one of Santa's little helpers," she replied waspishly. As the fittings progressed I discovered that she wasn't deliberately rude or blunt - she just had an instinct for what looked good and she wasn't afraid to tell the truth. I was grateful for that instinct. Still, like a truly neurotic bride-to-be, I burst into tears.

Not only did I scrub up quite well, but Jeanne added some flourishes of genius: there were little built-in hooks to hide bra straps, an invisible zip, and because it was December, the whole thing was heavily lined and very cosy indeed. (That might be a problem in Burundi, come to think of it.)

We had a wonderful day, and I loved the chance to wear such a beautiful frock. But that was 3 and a half years ago, and though precious and lovely it was still just a frock, mouldering in an attic. I feel much happier about it ending its days working for a living. I just hope it's to the taste of some small-chested, big-bummed Burundian ladies.

The monkey saga continues, though the news isn't good. More later.