Saturday 31 August 2013

At least it wasn't red


I was about to say that compared to the previous post, this one will be about lighter things, but I'm not sure that would be appropriate.

Choosing a wedding dress is always difficult - not that I have ever had to - and since they are usually only worn about three times these days, the bride has to make as big an impact as tastefully possible, the design a delicate balance between displaying the maturity and worldliness which is desirable when entering a contract of marriage, and the virginal modesty that the groom looks for in a wife. I wonder if the back of this dress has been cut-out and replaced with a veil of thin lace?

A business woman in Bath was on the front page of our local paper last week, standing in the kitchen of her '£1 million' home (that's just about any home in Bath these days) which she has furnished entirely from discarded articles found in rubbish skips. She says in the article that she has - somehow - made a 'chair' from her wedding dress, as she couldn't bear to leave it in a box in the cupboard after only one day's use.

Being our pretty useless local newspaper, there is no photo of the wedding dress chair, so I don't know how she did it.  Being a bit of a practical sculptor, I have an image of the fabric, soaked in polyester resin and stiff enough to support someone sitting on it, even if they do cut themselves on the razor-sharp edges of resined lace.

Talking of being stiff enough to support someone sitting on it, I am off to the Somerset Levels again today, to attend a one-off exhibition in which H.I. has a few paintings, in the house of a friend of ours.

The show has been put up by her son and daughter who, I am beginning to suspect, have left it far too late to make a success of it. This is the first art exhibition they have ever organised, so I expect it has been a steep learning-curve (to use an irritating idiom) for them, and I hope that they will make a more professional job out of the next one, if there is a next one.

I may be pleasantly surprised, but I had my doubts when I noticed that the daughter - in an email flyer she sent out three days before the event - had spelt her own name incorrectly in the email contact details...

12 comments:

  1. I suppose if you're trying to inform your future husband that he's about to marry a strumpet, it's a pretty good way of doing so!

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  2. Dear Tom, maybe she is a member of the Femen-group - here modestly sort of hiding her décolleté?
    As to exhibitions: I wish H.I. that everything will be alright. As long as the date and address is right...

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    Replies
    1. There's probably a Pussy Riot going on in there.

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  3. Replies
    1. Oh my ... a hangover and then I read where I've been last night! Damn. And this is why you are being gifted a signed copy of my book, Mr Stephenson.
      In my defence, that comment was not aimed at the content of your post but the photograph of THAT dress (and possibly a bit of midnight grumpy maudlinisms about why no one will marry me. Self explanatory really.)
      :~)

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    2. I'm glad it's not only me who types up drunken messages at night, then cannot remember doing it in the morning. I try not to post at night now, for that reason.

      I'm sure I would marry you if I was about 25 (30? I don't want to insult you) years younger and living somewhere in the Southern Hemisphere, but I'm not sure you'd marry me, even then.

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    3. 20 would do ...
      Still grumpy.

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  4. ouch! that looks uncomfortable.

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