Part One, in which a friend asks a favor.
“I need you to sew my wedding dress,” my friend, Cindy, said during a break at a work conference recently.
I nearly spat my coffee out laughing. “No!”
“One, my skills aren’t wedding dress appropriate,” I said. “Two, you’re a demanding bitch and impossible to please.”
She’s my only friend who wouldn’t balk at such a statement. We have that kind of relationship where we can be that blunt with each other.
It’s true, though. Cindy really is demanding and, sometimes, impossible. Where I usually put up with everything and muscle through whatever unpleasantness comes at me, Cindy flat out says, “This is not acceptable for these reasons,” and gets the issue dealt with. She wants what she wants, she gets what she pays for, and she makes sure people follow through on their commitments. It’s made her not well liked at our job, but I’ve always admired that about her.
It also makes me apprehensive about the prospect of sewing her wedding dress.
“Yes, I am. I know,” she agreed. “I just want something simple that’s not a princess thing or a slinky club dress.”
You’d never know that Cindy was even getting married this November. The wedding isn’t a topic she brings up and when someone else does, she quickly responds, “Planning’s going great!” and changes the subject. As far as she’s concerned, this is about her and her fiance and they don’t want to be bothered with throwing a huge ceremony to impress everyone they know. Their solution was to throw a destination wedding in the Bahamas, thus ensuring a good time for themselves and a very intimate wedding party.
“Besides, Tom is wearing khaki shorts and a guayabera,” she continued. “I’m not standing next to him in some puffed out ball gown.”
I’m still resistant. The only other person I’ve sewn for, other than myself, if my boyfriend. And that was just a pair of pajama pants and a big, plushy ushanka. Plus, I know Cindy.
“Cindy, even if I make something worthy of Vera Wang, you’re going to have a problem with it.”
“I just want something simple,” Cindy repeated. “I promise I won’t be bridezilla.”
I hear her, but sill feel as if Ming the Merciless has asked me to sew a new shiny red robe of doom.
The project could be good, though. I tend to not really push myself to learn advanced techniques or do things like French seams. There’s a lot that I know how to do and just don’t do because I want to hurry up and wear it. I put a lot more care into sewing those pajama pants and ushanka for my boyfriend than I put into anything I’ve made for myself. Stands to reason that sewing for someone else will probably make me a better seamstress overall.
“I don’t know how to design, so we have to use an existing pattern,” I finally said. “If we find one you like, I’ll sew it.”
So, I’m sewing a wedding dress. She insists that she wants something simple, which in turn should be simple enough to do.
In Part Two we learn the subjective nature of words like “simple,” “beachy,” and “flowy”.