For most brides, finding the perfect dress is top of the to-do list the moment the engagement ring is firmly in place. Having dreamed about it since they were little girls, they want something that makes them feel, even for a few hours, absolutely incredible. Often it's the most expensive item of clothing a woman will ever buy, to say nothing of the sentimental value. But what happens after the big day is over?
It's a quandary I faced after getting married in September last year. My wedding dress is the most beautifully made piece of clothing I've ever owned - and probably cost more than the rest of my wardrobe put together (thanks to my very generous parents). So, overjoyed as I was to wake up next to my new husband the morning after our wedding, I felt a twinge of sadness as I looked over to my beloved dress draped over a hotel chair and realised I would never wear be able to wear it again.
Growing up, my mum's wedding dress hung in a wardrobe at my Grandma's house. I used to enjoy dressing up in it, and vaguely thought that one day I might wear it myself. Gorgeous as it is, however, when I started planning my own wedding I realised that the long-sleeved, high-necked style was not for me. I did borrow my mum's veil, but the dress seemed destined to stay in the wardrobe forever, and I didn't want the same fate for mine.
The average bride now spends around £1,000 - £1,500 on their dress - an eye-watering amount to blow on something that you will wear for less than 24 hours. But, despite the price, the big white dress has become such a key part of the day that even the most resolutely un-princessy bride can get caught up in the desire for a fairytale gown.
It hasn't always been this way. Traditionally, brides wore their Sunday best to wed, usually in shades of brown, blue, pink, grey and even black. Queen Victoria set the trend for white by wearing a dress of snowy satin and lace for her wedding to Prince Albert, which was said to represent her purity. Other women followed suit and, as disposable incomes increased, it gradually became the norm to splash out on a garment that would be worn just the once.
Understandably, many brides are so attached to their bridal outfit that it becomes a treasured item, to be wrapped lovingly in tissue paper and stored away as a family heirloom. But, having forked out so much, there's an increasing urge to get more out of the dress.
Some brides choose to sell it on, recouping at least some of the original cost and giving someone else the chance to enjoy the dress too. The internet has made it easier than ever to do so, with numerous sites for women to list their gowns - and brides-to-be to find a bargain.
At the more extreme end, some opt for a 'trash the dress' photo session. This involves wearing the dress in an unexpected setting to create some stunning and unusual images. Cornwall's beaches and countryside offer perfect scope for spectacular trash the dress photos and a number of local photographers now offer the service.
There's also a rising trend for wedding dress parties, where married women get together for a night of flaunting their bridal gowns. They started in the US (where else?) but have been picked up over here, particularly as a fun idea for a charity bash.
I was too sentimental to pass my dress on to a stranger, or to trash it in the name of art, and the wedding dress party felt slightly too 'Miss Havisham'. But equally I didn't want to hide my gorgeous gown away - I wanted it to see more life. I liked the traditional idea of keeping it for special occasions; unfortunately, few occasions I go to call for a floor-length, ivory number with a dramatic train.
My first thought was that I could dye it a different colour and have the train removed to create an elegant evening dress. So I called Anna D'Souza, a Truro-based wedding dress designer who often re-works vintage and second-hand dresses for modern brides, to pick her brains. She was enthusiastic about the idea of finding a new use for my dress, but explained that, while silk can take on a new colour quite successfully, the man-made satin, lace and beads of mine would make it almost impossible to dye.
However, Anna said she could shorten the dress. As the design was slightly 1920s in feel, with a slimline skirt, we decided that if we took it to just below the knee it could pass as a flapper-style cocktail dress. There was nothing I could do about the colour but I figured that, with the right accessories and the right occasion, I could pull it off - after all, white isn't just for brides.
Anna also mentioned an old custom of using part of a wedding dress as a christening gown. As I had recently found out that I was pregnant, keeping the remnants of the dress to make something for the baby really appealed.
It was nerve-wracking leaving my dress for Anna to take her scissors to it. Although I was convinced that it was better to cut my dress up and use it again than hide it away in its original form, I felt much more attached to it as a whole than I had realised. And it was hard to think that soon half of it would be nothing more than a pile of severed fabric.
But when I went back to collect the finished item there was no doubt that I had done the right thing. The revamped dress is just as beautiful as the old one but the shorter hemline has given it a completely new life, and I can see myself wearing it at a summer party. A very special summer party admittedly, and not for a while - my pregnant bump is now so large I could only just squeeze myself into the dress to check the length, and there was no chance of doing it up. But it's a great incentive to get back into it post-birth.
And, as well as my new dress, I came away with yards of lace and satin from the rest of the skirt and train. Some of this I still intend to use for the baby, but I also spotted some exquisite handmade lace boleros in Anna's studio, so I'm hoping there will be enough left for her to make one of those for me too.
Like the day itself, my wedding dress is now just a memory, but hopefully I've turned it into something that will carry on bringing me happiness for many years to come.
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
If you decide to keep your wedding dress as an heirloom, ensure you take a few key steps to ensure you find it in pristine condition - rather than a yellowing, rapidly disintegrating heap - when you decide to take it out for a trip down memory lane. Firstly, get it cleaned by a specialist wedding dress cleaner and store it in an acid-free box. Handmade in Tavistock, The Empty Box Company (emptybox.co.uk) provides a range of sumptuous storage solutions to keep your dress in top-notch condition. Adorned with beautiful paper, ribbons and lace, the boxes are made from specially milled board that is pH neutral and filled with acid-free tissue. Then, here's the trick: don't consign your pretty box to the attic or garden shed - keep it in a room with a consistent temperature and moderate humidity. Under your bed will do just fine.
words Alice Wright
Copyright Wed magazine 2013
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