Chapter 9 The Dress
Chapter9 The Dress
The Mother of the Bride
Of all the traits passed from mother to daughter, the one that Alexa was most proud of was her daughter Penny’s ability to
make things happen, quietly and gracefully. Alexa had watched her own mother, Leni, welcome tourists from all over the world,
those seeking meals after closing time or a room for two that they could share with five people, and her mother had accommodated
these strangers as if they were family. Leni would commandeer sightseeing guides or boat tours on the spur of the moment for
their hotel guests. She almost never said no and almost always succeeded in making the visitors’ trip memorable. She had a
network of others in the trade, from bartenders to cabbies on Patmos to innkeepers on other islands, in Athens and the Peloponnese,
not an easy task in the days before the internet. They worked together to keep the tourists satisfied and the economy humming.
The guests appreciated the effort so much that they sent their friends and relatives from Germany or England or Australia
or Canada to their small island for vacation instead of the splashier Greek islands like Santorini or Mykonos. It was playing
the long game in what travel experts would call word-of-mouth marketing now. The currency of human connection.
Alexa herself absorbed the lessons of hospitality and used them to her advantage in her Hollywood career, saying yes to any request and then figuring out how to make it happen afterward. When she started Odyssey, she learned that high-income clients had high expectations, like special shopping hours at boutiques, meals created just for them by the chef, a tour of the vineyard that went into the cellars normally closed to the public. She had to make those experiences happen in new cities all over the world. She learned to work from the ground up. Her signature move? Picking up the phone and speaking to the shopgirl or the restaurant manager as if that person were the CEO of the company. Her tone said, “I respect you and we’re all in this together to make something special happen.” She knew that her daughter had watched her and learned to speak to every individual with the same attitude to create opportunities where everyone could benefit even if it required extra effort.
When Alexa and Penny approached the Kalliope Moon trunk show, the line stretched down Spring Street and around the corner.
Eager shoppers stood holding their iced coffees and their cell phones, waiting for their turn to view the merchandise inside,
clothing and housewares that would look at home in the Hamptons or Ibiza or Capri. Or Montecito. Two women in navy blue monitored
the line, allowing a select few in at a time. Alexa watched as Penny approached them with a broad smile and open arms. She
could hear a few words of greeting in Greek, reestablishing the connection that they had made years ago in Athens when Penny
was still leading tours and would bring her clients into the boutique after hours for what could only be described as a cocktail-fueled
shopping frenzy.
Her Odyssey patrons snapped up caftans and palazzo pants and dresses of all shapes and sizes in Mediterranean-inspired colors
and patterns. Some shipped entire sets of dishes or sheets and towels back to their homes in Dallas or Palm Beach or Dana
Point. The shop owed Penny and Penny owed the shop. The circle of commerce closed.
And now, all of that back-channel planning, scheduling, and communication was paying off. Today, Penny was the client and she was going home with an exclusive Kalliope Moon wedding dress.
She turned to her mother, her proud mother, and said, “They’ve been waiting for us.”
Sofia, who’d managed the shop in Athens for over a decade, nodded with recognition at Alexa. But today, instead of speaking
with the familiarity of one working woman to another, she treated Alexa as her honored guest. It reminded Alexa so much of
her own mother, who would have treated a stranger in her modest hotel on Patmos with the same care. Sofia cleared a path and
ushered the mother and daughter past the gaggle of New Yorkers waiting their turn. “Madam Diamandis, Mademoiselle Diamandis,
welcome to Kalliope Moon SoHo. Please follow me. May I get you a coffee? Cava?”
***
“Oh, Penny...”
This was the moment that Alexa hadn’t known she was waiting for. The moment her daughter, the heart of her being, stepped
out from behind the curtain in the small showroom that had been reserved for them, in the dress that would become her wedding
dress.
Kalliope herself was there to assist them, and there was no doubt about which of the dresses would become Penny’s. After hugs, kisses, and small talk about mutual friends in Athens, the designer listened to Penny describe her dream dress. And then she disregarded the bride’s wishes for simple and sophisticated. Instead, she brought out a stunner from the back room. It was a silk and lace confection with a skirt of many layers of flowy fabric, gentle pleats, flutter sleeves, and a deep V neckline. The color appeared to be cream at first glance, but as Penny moved around the room, layers of various shades of blue, seafoam white, and blush peeked through, giving the skirt the effect of rolling waves. Hints of lace highlighted the bodice, including the deeper V back of the dress. Scattered around the bottom of the dress were handsewn crystals in rose, blue, and silver. It was a completely unexpected choice by Penny, who favored tailored clothes and neutral colors. It was a romantic but modern mix with nods to both her Greek heritage and her beachy California upbringing. It looked like it was made for her, save for a few alterations.
“You’ll never guess what it’s called,” Penny said, stepping up on the riser after allowing Kalliope to add a pearl and silver
accent belt at the waist and then a similar headband with a veil that put Alexa over the top emotionally.
“Penny’s dress?” Alexa guessed through tears.
“Practically. It’s called the Penelope! Can you believe it?”
Alexa could. In Greek mythology, Penelope was the loyal and clever wife of Odysseus, the Greek hero who took his sweet time
coming home from the Trojan War. During the decade of her husband’s wandering and philandering, Penelope held down the home
front, staying loyal to her husband while fending off young suitors with a clever trick. She vowed to marry again when she
had finished weaving the funeral garment for her late father-in-law. She wove by day and unraveled her work by night, thus
delaying another marriage indefinitely. Eventually, her scheme was revealed by one of the servants.
While Penelope was often written off by readers and scholars as too loyal and faithful of a wife, Alexa admired her steadfastness
not to marry again and her clever way of staying single. Creative, gentle but firm in her resolve. That’s how Alexa thought
of her daughter, who had made her way in the world through her gentle manner, her creative brain, and her firm resolve to
get exactly what she wanted out of life.
As Alexa stared at her daughter in her creamy sparkling ocean dress, she knew that she must want every bit of the life she had described last night—as Chase’s wife, his political partner, a Queens dweller, and a weaver of dreams. There would be no talking her out of that, she knew now. Loyal, faithful, clever, creative Penelope. Her Penny.
“What do you think, madam?”
Penny looked at her with the same expression she used to get her first car. “Mom?”
She nodded at her daughter. “It’s perfect. I love it. We’ll take it. Yes?”
“Yes.”
Neither one of them had asked the price.
“Now, madam, shall we move on to our mother-of-the-bride dress?” Kalliope asked, filling Alexa’s glass with more bubbly.
“Absolutely. Apolytos,” Alexa agreed, swept up in the romance of it all.
From the Desktop of Dearly Beloveds and Betrotheds
Dear B & Bs...
Some weeks, my mailbox resembles group therapy more than wedding etiquette. When that happens, I scuttle my regularly scheduled
content for a Very Special Episode of Your Aunt B.
This week’s Group Therapy Topic: Difficult Brides. (No, I won’t call them by the other name, a derivative of that of a very angry prehistoric reptilian monster, because I think that slur is all kinds of misogynistic. And probably other awful things as well.) If you are a Bride-to-Be or identify as the Bride in your coupling, this short list is for you. Please understand, I know that weddings can be stressful. It’s a new life experience that involves a host of skills from budgeting to diplomacy to menu planning to very strong opinions on typography that you might not have previ ously developed. I am on your side, Brides, giving you a wide berth as you make your way through this virgin territory. (Wink, wink.) I encourage others to do the same, allowing grace for the crazy that may come before that dear sister/friend/cousin walks down the aisle.
That said, you must do your part, Ms.Bride, to minimize the friction and maximize the love. A few rules to bear in mind:
You’re not the first person to be married, and you won’t be the last. Sorry, dear one. You are part of a long tradition that
stretches back thousands of years. A wedding is two people committing to each other until death do them part surrounded by
the family and friends who will support them on this journey. It’s not really your day. It’s simply a day. If you understand your place in this continuum, you will find the perspective you need to proceed with civility. Honor
tradition humbly.
The people you include in your wedding, like your bridesmaids, should hold a special spot in your heart. Respect them and
their boundaries. Remember, their primary purpose is to bear witness to your relationship with your future spouse. They don’t
work for you. They shouldn’t go broke being your friend. And they are real people with feelings who can only forgive so much.
Be kind.
Details fade, but the vibe doesn’t. Modern brides face a cavalcade of choices from the ridiculous (position of the hand-lettered signs indicating the porta potties) to the sublime. (To wear a wedding veil or not? Yes, wear a veil because it’s your one chance and veils are magical.) Resist the temptation to get so lost in the particulars that you forget the purpose of the day. As the years go by, the lasting memory won’t be about the appetizer choice, but the overall feeling of the wedding. Was there unity? Was there joy? Was there love? Those are the most important details.
Big Kiss & Wedding Bliss,
Your Aunt B