Emilys wedding dress was still hanging in the closet, but the marriage itself had long since gone up in smoke. Still, the story that came with it felt real enough.
When the new houses wardrobe started groaning under the weight of too many coats, Emily swore to Tom that shed sort it out: toss the junk, give away or sell what she didnt need (remember that little tale The Fashion Sacrifice?). So she spent an hour standing there, moving pieces from one hanger to another, justifying each one in her head: Ill need this, thats for a walk with the dog, and this ones just in case theres a charity ball.
The pile earmarked for the bin was embarrassingly small. Everything seemed important, needed, almost like a family heirloom.
Then, from the back of the wardrobe, a fabric cover peeked out.
Whats this? she muttered, squinting. Blimey! Its my wedding dress!
Not the sleek blue Chanelstyle suit shed worn at the town hall the second time she married, but the dress from her first wedding the very one that had travelled with her across the Atlantic, a relic from another life.
Emily had first tied the knot at twentyone, which by todays standards is almost teenage, but back then she was already considered a bit of an oldmaid. Shed started catching puzzled, judgmental looks from friends, sympathetic comments from married mates, and worried glances from her mum and Gran.
Enter the suitor: a decent bloke from a respectable family, almost on his own, a year older, finishing university. She said yes. He was goodlooking, fell head over heels for her, her parents gave their blessing. What more did you need for happiness? Some wild romance?
Dad always said passion was just a writers excuse, that a family is built for everyday life, not for novels. So they planned a modest wedding in a café no limousines, no grand halls (and honestly, where would they get a limo anyway?).
When it came to outfits, the adventure began. Tom managed to snag a suit with a voucher from the Newlyweds Boutique, Emily got lucky with shoes, but the dress turned out to be a total flop.
Back then, brides looked like overwhipped meringues stiff taffeta, layers of ruffles and bows the size of a corncobs propeller. It was sweet, a bit funny, sincere and pretty, but Emily didnt want to look like that. No floorlength veil, no sweeping train down the London streets. She dreamed of a dress that was special, both elegant and practical not just for the wardrobe, but for real life.
Her mothers seamstress suggested a white batiste dress with tiny blue flowers and a corset. Emily froze: she was already a touch pregnant after the registry office paperwork. Shed hidden the news from her parents, but a stiff corset and morning sickness just didnt mix. She mumbled something about the flowers and backed out.
Luckily, her grandparents from York swooped in. When they heard their beloved granddaughter was getting married, they decided the dress would be their gift.
Emily waited for the parcel with a mix of excitement, joy, and nerves. When she finally opened it, she could hardly believe her eyes: a simple yet elegant dress, very much in the spirit of the 1920s soft fabric, loose cut, horizontal pleats at the waist, a skirt just below the knee. No lace, no sequins just a light veil and thin gloves that gave the whole look a quiet, noble modesty.
Tom insisted on the veil he wanted everything to feel real. He later took it off, carried her up to the sixth floor, and the two of them, exhausted and a little tipsy, collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep straight away. By halfpast six they had to dash to the airport for a flight to Scotland, their honeymoon destination.
Three years later the young couple moved to the United States. Of course the dress came with them. It never got worn again, except for a couple of friends borrowing it for tiny events, while the rest of the gang sighed with envy.
When the marriage fell apart and Emily relocated to France, she tucked the dress back into a suitcase just in case.
Now, decades later, she stood in the wardrobe and thought, Its time to sell it. She snapped a few photos, wrote a short description and posted it on Gumtree, the British version of eBay where you can buy anything from a coffee maker to a hamster. Price: £85 enough to show it wasnt a cheap bargain, but not so high as to scare people off.
To her surprise, it sold the same day. The buyer was local, so they arranged to meet at a café in the town centre, no shipping needed.
Emily was already sipping a cappuccino and nibbling a croissant when a young woman breezed over about twentyseven, ashblonde hair, blue eyes.
Oh my, thats me when I was younger, Emily thought, smiling.
The girl turned the dress over in her hands, cooed, and chatted nonstop: Im from Poland, studying pharmacy, my fiancés Spanish and still in university, working parttime. No one to help us, but well manage. Were doing a Gatsbystyle wedding for our friends fun and glittery. Your dress is perfect, just what we need!
Emily grinned. Thats brilliant. Im glad itll help. No need for money, just take it.
She wiped away a tear and mused, Maybe this dress will bring you real happiness. As for me, looking back, life wasnt half bad love, two wonderful sons, travel, laughter. Not a Hollywood script, but it worked.
The girl left, and outside a fine drizzle fell, as thin as a veil. Emily watched the street and thought about how happiness comes in many forms. Sometimes its like a dress not brandnew, but still yours. The important thing is that, at least once, it fits you just right.
She gave the nowcold cappuccino a little stir, smiled and said to herself, Better give the wardrobe another proper look theres still plenty in there.
