God knows

God knows there is nothing wrong with me. I mean I am perfectly capable of sewing this silly stitch. I cannot believe they called me to design and create it. Dear God, it is beautiful. The silk organza from the fashion house in Paris arrived six-weeks ago and I am still in awe. Even as I handle it and look at it every day, for hours on end. Pure white, I mean like a fresh snowfall in the Rockies white. Stunning, almost glowing like stained-glass lit from the sun. A translucence that New York’s houses do not have.

God knows this is my chance, my true expression of self. It pours into the dress. Likely as important as my own wedding will be, or even more. At least for today. It is long, flowing, elegance wrapped in silk. Pure classic style, fine lines, a perfect fit and not too deep of a V-neck. It is Lady Cornwell, after all. Everyone knows she is the “tasteful” sister.

Lady Cornwell called me personally about four months ago. She requested an interview and at first, I almost hung up. I mean really, who uses the actual phone to contact people anymore. Especially royalty. I mean, don’t you have people for that? But I answered that day. Something told me to get it. Even now, I have no idea why I answered, but here we are. Months later. Lady Cornwell and I have met about six times. Really, who am I kidding? I know exactly how many times we met and what she was wearing each time. Funny, but I adored every minute of it, even the stressful bits that she struggled to explain exactly what she wanted in the first meeting.

I asked her once, “why me?” She smiled shyly and said she just knew, had a feeling. I thought it was interesting at the time. Even now I believe God created this space for me, maybe for her too. Don’t get me wrong, my work has already been shown at a few events. That star at Cannes in 2021, the politician’s wife in 2022, “pandemic suiting” they called it. Another stunning creation of a simple well-tailored suit. She returned it the day after the event. And now, years later, I think I understand why. Politics being as they are, appearances, I suppose. We are from two very different sides of the tracks, heck, I’d even say that we are miles of train stations apart. But still, I believe this was another opportunity that God placed in front of us. This one, I think, was for her. She loved the suit, I think she still does, but will not speak of it again. Silly, really. At least she did not bad-mouth it and destroy my business. I think she could’ve at the time. But here I am with Lady Cornwell’s dress in my hands, caressing it like a lover. It is beautiful and I know it will break my heart to pack it off to Lady Cornwell, even though I know that is where it belongs.

My fingers are moving at a pace I cannot keep up with. The beading and embroidery work is all by hand, of course. I decided to complete it myself. I have great tailors that assist me, work for me, but this one was just for me. There was never a question. I love the intricate work, the focus and stillness it brings to my mind.

People, I think, are never really still. We are always in motion, even sitting our minds race with the next day, task, plan, or detail. It can be exhausting, and we don’t even know it, so accustomed are we to the supposed “value” of being busy, getting ahead. The beading helps me truly escape, focus on one thing, minute details that must be done perfectly.

It is a blessing and a curse for me. I love the creative side of thinking, planning, and doing. But I hate the misery and angst of the end. The job is never good enough, at least for a few weeks. I think it is the tension release from the end of the project. The loud critic in me questioning my design, ability and craft. Ach, enough of that, the dress calls.

In my hands, the dress moves, beading is very tedious work, and this design was hand-detailed by Lady Cornwell. She loves her family, flowers and butterflies, so here we are. All the beautiful things she cares so honestly about, detailed on a train that is ten feet long. The opulent beads are small but mighty in light and reflection. They glow as the fabric does. I found them at the most interesting place. A Native American bead shop in Santa Fe. A quiet, yet busy place. It was a great little shop. Not very big, but piled with amazing beads, pots, crafts, and other crafting items. Tucked in the corner was a bunch of beads in a big clay pot, like the pot they handcrafted so many years ago. It looked old, worn, used but not “cheap or broken” more like loved and care for into old age. It was beautiful, I bought it and lovingly placed it on my “respected” shelf, where those items I am honored to hold sit.

The beads were in the pot among a bunch of other beads and mess. I bought the pot of beads hoping to find use for them, maybe with the dress, or anything else. It was a great deal, and I remember I was excited to get back to the studio with my find. Even as I sit here, beading I can feel the weight of Native American women in the beads. Sewing, I feel them guiding the placement of the beads. It really is a beautiful feeling; I can’t begin to describe it. To do so would somehow, invalidate the women, the feeling, so I hold it tightly in my heart and thank them every time I see the pot.

The beading was almost complete, and the embroidery finished already. I am close to the final fitting and presentation to Lady Cornwall. I am all the things; scared, happy, joyful, grateful, and fully freaked out for her arrival. I know in my heart this is the perfect piece. No other person knows about the beads, the way, I believe God works, or how the days flew by to create this art, this passion, this one-of-a-kind wedding dress. All I know is that I believe Lady Cornwall will love it, be grateful for her day, and cherish her life to come…God knows.