Amid pain, it’s OK to seek out beauty
As we battle the coronavirus pandemic, rites of passage are passing us by: graduations, proms, bar mitzvahs. And with weeks dragging into months, thousands of couples also face difficult questions over what to do with their wedding celebrations.
I have heard many brides wrestle with feelings of guilt mixed into their sadness. Is it right, they wonder, to still dream about a beautiful day, and yes, even a beautiful dress, while people all over the world are suffering and dying?
When I moved to New York City in August 2001, I was a starry-eyed 18-yearold. Breathlessly excited to embark on my fashion design studies at the Fashion Institute of Technology, I could have never imagined the unspeakable trauma I was about to watch unfold. In the ensuing days and weeks after 9/11, as Fashion Week got canceled and talks of war got louder, a fundamental question bloomed in my mind. In a world that is so capable of hurting itself, what is the point of dedicating my life to pretty dresses?
Pain has a way of shaping us. Beauty has a way of speaking to us. But these messages and how they relate to each other are not always immediately obvious. As a young person, I couldn’t decipher exactly the purpose or direction of my dreams, yet I resolved at least to not be driven by fear. I hoped for my work to cultivate human connection.
After college and a few years of being chewed up by the garment industry, a series of life events forced me to stop and reimagine my career. I found myself more humbled than ever, and my only remaining motivation was the deep love of the craft that I had known as a child at my mother’s feet. Cautiously, I started making simple wedding dresses out of my Brooklyn apartment.
I found myself fueled by a simple, viable hope: If I could dedicate myself to making beautiful things that bring me joy, some others out there may gain joy from them as well. Perhaps in this way I could support myself and my two young sons and eventually give good jobs to a few others.
As I used my skills to help women to feel their most beautiful, each bride helped me to discover the connection and inspiration I had been seeking for so long. The encouragement my brides poured over me helped me to believe again that I, too, was worthy of all kinds of love.
And with this healing, I began to open myself up to the possibility of meeting the right kind of life partner. When I serendipitously met Michael Peppard last year, there was no way I could have guessed that soon I would find myself completely in love — and later in pandemicinduced lockdown — with him. Just nine months after we met, we decided to marry.
We set our ceremony to take place Dec. 30, 2019, in the mountains of Steamboat Springs, Colorado, the last spot we had camped during a memory-saturated summer road trip.
Date and details set, I figured making my gown would be no problem whatsoever. But I felt nagged by the urge to be unique, to design something memorable and inspiring. Imagining a wedding gown as a way not to transform but to reveal a woman’s true beauty has provided me endless inspiration. However, when I turned my gaze to the mirror, it became cripplingly difficult to decide how exactly to dress myself.
There came a morning just one month before our elopement when I had to give myself the same “talk” I often give my clients: Breathe. Reduce the noise, focus on your vows, keep the energy around your gown light.
With my newfound peace of mind, I gravitated toward a length of ivory French lace. I opted to create a streamlined silhouette referencing the Western pioneer women of the late 1800s, who were my ancestors. My Brooklyn team deftly tailored the custom sleeves. I finished off the look with an ivory organza overskirt .
I love what I wore, but much more importantly, I love that I am now married to my best friend. I’m utterly grateful that we have each other to lean on through these very hard times.
A wedding day itself comes and goes. Sometimes it runs as planned, sometimes we have to bend our visions dramatically. For most of us, it will be both beautiful and flawed, just as we are.