“Ha. I could do with losing fifteen pounds.” She looked back at the table where the delicious scones sat invitingly on a round plate. “But I’m not interested in being model-thin. I don’t think I can be.”
Laura sat up straighter, not an easy thing to do on a bean bag. “Listen to me. Every bride thinks she’s too fat. But I know bodies, you have to in my job. Your figure is the kind that looks amazing in feminine clothes. I hope you don’t take this wrong way, but your curves are the kind that men find sexy.” Laura had read enough books about how to attract men.
“I’ve always wished to have a figure like yours.” Millie grinned back. “You’re tall and willowy and I bet you could eat anything and never gain an ounce.”
“Did they make you feel fat at the dress fittings?”
At Gloria’s, they were told to never ever make a bride feel anything less than perfect even if she looked like a bucket. But big fashion houses had far too many jumped-up garment fascists and bitchy assistants, and they would have totally missed what made Millie gorgeous.
“I don’t think it matters,” Millie answered. “I could be really fat and it wouldn’t show inside the monstrous dresses they put me in.”
Laura’s brain was racing now. At last they were getting somewhere. What a bride hated about a dress was always much more telling. “A wedding dress should be a personal thing, as personal as a choice of husband, probably more because one couldn’t tell a man by his appearance but a dresswasthe appearance.”
“I’m not that kind of woman. A Dior gown says, ‘Look at me I’m the most important bride in the world!’” – She mimed inverted commas – “I’m not. This is not false modesty. I know I can be beautiful, but not like that. I’m the kind that you grow to like when you know me, and in a dress like that, you can’t see me for all the mountains of lace and froth and the architectural couture.”
Laura agreed. There was something very unique about Millie; her personality was clearest in the cottage where she preferred to live. The aroma of drying herbs. The terrace outside was a natural haphazard collection of potted plants. Millie was spontaneous and lively and a part of this lovely place.
Before she could think better of it, Laura got up and went in search of her sketch pad and coloured pencils. There were heaps of lavender on the biggest table. Choosing a single stem that had a perfect shape, she touched the pencil to her tongue to wet it and began drawing. Then she moved on to a tray spread with sage; using a pale silver green pencil, she traced the curling long leaves.
“Would you like a cup of hot chocolate with chili?” Millie asked from somewhere behind her.
“Please.” Laura didn’t even look up from her sketching. When Millie came over with the steaming, spicy mug, she stood for a minute, watching. “You’re very good at this. I never had an artistic bone in my body.”
Laura looked up from the bowl heaped with tiny orange berries. All around her was beauty and yet Millie didn’t think she was artistic. That was another important characteristic about the woman, she was very self-deprecating. No wonder she hated to be decked out in a frou-frou dress. “You’d really be happier with a simple summer dress.”
“Are you joking? I would love to get married in a beach dress. With no one around but immediate family and a couple of witnesses.”
“So why don’t you?”
Just for a moment a wicked gleam shone in the other woman’s eyes. Then it was gone. “For one thing, the wedding is in early March, so it’s likely to be cold. I think appearing in a light beach dress would put the seal on my reputation as a lunatic. The press would go to town on us.”
Laura said nothing and went on with sketching some leaves waiting for Millie to come back to serious considerations.
“I don’t think white would suit me anyway, and every other bridal gown is ivory these days. It all feels so…” Millie struggled to find the word.
“Generic?”
“It just says BRIDE in capital letters.”
“Have you thought about antique cream? Or pale champagne…?”
An image was developing in Laura’s mind. Something to do with the fields of swaying grass and wild flowers outside. She turned to a clean page on her sketch pad and quickly outlined a long, slim dress. “If we used a soft chiffon so it’s very lightweight, it would just drift down…” She drew in a graceful mermaid skirt and showed it to Millie. “If the lining beneath was silk but painted along the hem in the shapes of” – She flipped back over the previous page – “ some of these herbs and flowers here. Just a scattering along the hem and maybe swirling up along the back as if they’d just fallen naturally.” She was getting very excited as she coloured in tiny flowers and leaves dancing along the bottom. “The overall look would still be bridal, but as you walk down the aisle, the two layers of fabric will shift and make the flowers look like they’re swaying in the breeze. And maybe a coloured sash around the waist, lavender or apple green or peach. Very subtle. You’ll still look like a bride, but it’ll be… it will be more…you.”
Laura went on talking, her pencil flying over the page drawing shapes. “And we need something of the cove here, the sea, maybe a thin, simple necklace of seed pearls. I think that would be more you than a large statement necklace.”
There was a sniff, and Laura looked up, worried.
Millie eyes shone with unshed tears. She tried to speak but nothing came out and she reached for a box of tissues. It took her a long moment to wipe her eyes and blow her nose.
“Can you really do this?” she said finally. “Can you really?”
“Easy.” Actually it wasn’t but it could be done. It would be an amazing challenge and the kind of project Laura loved, creating a look inspired by the bride herself.
“Where would you even find fabric with such…” Millie pointed to the drawings on Laura’s notebook. “Where?”
Nowhere. It didn’t exist. She’d have to paint it. It wasn’t hard, but she would have to source the right materials first.
This was it, the kind of work she loved. And this time she would make it perfect. It would be her creation from painting the fabric to finishing the entire look.
