The Wedding Outfit…
What is in a ‘Snowball’?
A story based on Bridesmaids & Weddings
- It is not as dull as it sounds! -
Some passages contains language that some people might find offensive. This story is based on my life & these are the first draft chapters of a particular part of my life – But mostly it is about the peculiarities of growing up in my family … Don’t judge me until you have read it all!
The Wedding Outfit
Chapter 1
Circa – late 1990’s
Standing in front of the ‘thin’ mirror, in my favourite shop, Mango, St. Leonards Road, Windsor, looking back at the reflection of myself, I would like to say admiring myself, but that is not for me I struggle with how I look. But ‘I think’ this is an ‘OK’ look and it is what I want; a long black large sparkly jumper that fits over my now seven month bump.
I have been standing in front of this ‘thin’ mirror for just over thirteen years, or so, on and off, it is one of my favourite places to be, trying on bespoke clothes, in this little boutique, in the town I went to school in. The buzz has never abated and I hope it never will. Clothes are one of the very few things that I can honestly say that my mother and I have in common, otherwise we have very different opinions on most things, which makes our relationship complicated – to put it mildly!
I find that it is always important to give the outfit a second glance and some balance so I move across the floor to the ‘fat’ mirror, which I never liked standing in front of for precisely the reason the name suggests – it makes you look fatter than the thin mirror! But it is an important barometer. Before being pregnant, I would look at myself in the thin mirror first, then if I liked the look, which inevitably I did, I would move to the fat mirror, to check out how bad I would look in the outfit if I looked fatter. To most people this would not make any sense, but to me it makes perfect sense, I think it might just be a female thing? It is like the feeling you get when fitting into a new outfit that is one size smaller than the size you usually go for, it is a free positive!! Today it seems a bit mad standing in front of the fat mirror as I am heavily pregnant, so I am obviously going to look fat/pregnant in either mirror, but I have to do it, it is part of the process!
My mind wonders and I glance at the reflection behind me and I watch my mother rootling through the clothes on the display stands. I brought my mother with me on this occasion, we are not good shopping buddies, for many reasons which I will explain later or will become apparent as I tell you this story.
My mother is working the dress shop as she usually does with a sort of forensic mania that you only see in someone who has a compulsive obsession to find something first that no one else has seen, her eyes are flickering and scanning from one item to the next, rummaging at speed through the careful hung clothes; she reminds me of Guilty our cat when he has enthusiastically pounced on a mouse, he just throws his paws around in all directions, punching the ground trying to catch something that has already escaped. This is normal behaviour in a dress shop from my mother.
Earlier today, another customer who was in the shop had a lucky escape. The lady had come in to try on a very expensive thin blue leather coat that had been put by for her to try. This elegant young woman had excitedly and carefully put the coat on, rolling the soft leather sleeves up her arms, she then swayed in delight at her image from side to side in the fat mirror, she looked stunning. This was not lost on my mother, who had stopped searching for a minute and was observing with interest. This young woman, was clearly weighing up the cost of this expensive ticketed couture item, it was certainly an investment piece. She made the fatal mistake of taking it off and carefully tossing the coat on the chair in the boutique. Rookie mistake! My mother was across the room like a sprinter, snatched the coat up and was forcing it on over her arms onto her shoulders. My mother is a tall slender woman, the coat size was for a petite frame, but that did not stop my mother’s efforts in try it on. This poor young woman was shocked as she had not relinquished the coat, she was just simply enjoying the moment of toying with the idea of purchasing such an expensive item. It was an embarrassing moment, I was going to have to intervene.
Moving closer to my mother, with my back to the woman and the shop owner, I mouthed, I think more than clearly; “Take it OFF!” My mother looked at me, and did her usual thing, shrugged her shoulders in defiance, pulling the collar up around her neck, the thin leather straining… I am used to these episodes of resistance so I repeated, “Take it off,” she swung backward and forward, the powder blue pelts following her movements; “take it off – NOW!” I am pretty sure that the ‘NOW’ was audible to the two people standing behind me … Nope I could tell she was in ‘non-compliant mode’. This happens with my mother if she feels I am challenging her in any way, a small example of this is when my mother tells me that I will like something, for example a film; I will say that I have seen it and I did really like it. She will tell me that I did like it, I will say I didn’t and she will move onto the actor in it who she insists I like, I will say yes he/she is okay and my mother will say I knew you would like that film! There is no easy way out!
I move to ‘low tactics’! Turning to the young woman and the shop owner Roz, I say, “You haven’t finished with this coat, have you? You really must buy it, it looks amazing on you.” Turning to glance at my mother, half smile on my face; “Take it off – Mum, this lady is going to buy it!” I have embarrassed her now, this is not going to end well!
Throwing her head to one side smiling, she peals this beautiful coat off, leaving one arm inside out and tosses the relieved coat back on the chair from where she had stolen it… “So sorry, I didn’t realise you were still interested in it.” She did! Balance is restored albeit with a bit of an atmosphere left in the building, Roz picked up the coat, pulled the arm back through. The young woman, who had nearly been deprived of her coat decided immediately that she wanted to purchase it and the deal was done with Roz – I think my mother’s hijacking had most probably helped seal the sale!
In Mango, the clothes are always displayed beautifully with the hangers each placed exactly 2 inches apart, there is usually only one of each piece on the rail, the other sizes are kept upstairs out of sight for when they are needed. My Mum had now resumed her forensic investigations of the display, pulling each item of clothing from right to left, the hangers scraping against the rail above as she sorts through them at an alarming rate, having got to the end of the first rail of clothes they are all swaying hanging on the left side of the rail as if in a summer breeze all symmetry gone. My eyes moved across the white interior of the shop to the owner Roz, a petite lady with wonderful short spiky hair, she is beautifully dressed in one of her outfits that she has collected over the many years of owning the shop. She too is also watching my mother, with I think, relatively good humour considering her carefully laid out clothing display was being deconstructed in front of her, but I guess that is her job.
Reverting back to my reflection… I like this jumper and it is what I want for the occasion and it has stood up to the fat mirror test and just made me look pregnant which is what I am, after all! I think it will work well with my tight fitting maternity black skirt, with a slit up the side. I inwardly smirked, she will go mad when she realises that I am actually choosing my wedding outfit…. devilment takes over. “Mum, I think this jumper would be great for my wedding day outfit.” She stopped ferreting for a tiny moment, turned to look at me
“Don’t be so ridiculous Natalie, you are not wearing anything like that when you get married!” Roz glanced at me and pulled a face and shrugged her shoulders. I guess she was thinking the same as me, I am after all a fully grown adult, pregnant with my first child, not living with my mother but with the man I am about to marry!! – And I will damn well wear what I please. My mother, you see has obsessed over my wedding day for years, meticulously planning each detail, depending on what year we are living in and what are the current trends when it comes to Bridal wear. I have never been consulted!
I realise of course that I am going to have to tell her and Trevor, my father at some stage that I am getting married in just over a weeks’ time in a registry office. It is not going to go down well and it will come as an enormous shock to my mother particularly. Inwardly I shrug, I am not telling her today, I will wait a bit longer. I am buying this jumper as my wedding outfit. “I will have this Roz, thank you.” My mother continues to ‘frisk’ the clothing, she is not interested in the black jumper. She’s moved to the glass shelves where Roz displays all her accessories, Mum bends down to the floor under the shelves and picks up one of a pair of fantastic orange and pink shoes with a splayed out heel, flips them upside down to check out the size, mum has large feet a size 7-8, she kicks off one of her shoes, balancing on one leg and forces the too small shoe over her toes, then puts her foot on the ground with her ankle hanging over the back of the shoe, she bobs her head from one side to the other observing the ‘look’ and the shoed foot moves in tandem with her head from left to right. I look at her face and she pulls that all too familiar upside-down grimace. To the uninitiated, they could take this look as a confirmation that my mother does not particularly like this shoe, but I know better – she likes the shoe a lot, but is internally downloading if she will buy it and what is the best deal she will get if she does buy it and what will she wear it with. In the same moment she kicks the shoe off and it lands haphazardly back in the same spot where it was originally on display, but this time it is on its side, I wince, but Roz ever the professional, is over there in a shot carefully up righting the shoe and putting it back on display. Don’t get me wrong, it is not that my mother is intentionally being rude or disrespectful, it is just that she is in ‘feeding frenzy mode’, with the clothing, the pretty things on display in front of her, she is in the zone! And she has clearly spotted something else.
She has moved onto the third shelf up from the ground, this is where Roz keeps the belts and handbags, top shelf is usually reserved for smaller items like sunglasses, gloves and jewellery. Hawk like, Mum has seized and unravelled a dark brown thick suede belt, holding it to her waist, this type of accessory is a staple of Roz, my mother already has a number of these, but in different colours, she has even given me the colours of the ones she has bought and does not particularly like. This is something that amuses my soon to be husband. Mum will very kindly offer to give me some of her clothing, on occasions when she has had a clear out, I love this when it happens, lots of the items are not for me, Mum is tall I am short like Trevor. Trust me, there is no one that shops or has a wardrobe like my mother, it is like going to Selfridges, she has everything in every colour. So, occasionally, she gives me items of clothing and I adapt them to suit me. I will then wear the adapted item when I see her and she is always be a bit fed up that she gave them to me in the first place! And wants them back! It is normal!
I move over to the rail that has been disrupted by my mother, sliding the outfits back into, more or less the position close to where they were originally. Lingering on a couple of items that I lust after, however with my baby bump I have no chance of fitting into, I am at that stage in pregnancy where I want my shape back to where it once was.
Mum is standing at the thin mirror, and there is! The grimace face, she moves to the fat mirror to take a look at the belt against her, she crumples up her top over the belt, to give it ‘a look’ then pulls her top back down and goes for the ‘nipped in’ waist look. Yup!! I can tell she really likes this, she is twisting to the right and left admiring the look. The fat mirror does not matter to my mother, she has supreme belief in her looks, and she is and has always been thin and stunningly beautiful. “What do you think Natalie?”
“Yes it is nice mum – but don’t you have lots like that?”
“No Natalie, not like this – not in this colour!” – Then it is out of her mouth I can’t stop it and I did not see it coming!! She said it, loud, bold and clear – The *N* word. But in its full literation!!! And she continues; full throttle; “It is *N*-brown Natalie.” The women behind me that had entered the shop a short while earlier and who was up to this moment also moving the hangers from side to side, froze. Roz, usually the consummate professional, mouth has dropped open….. Oh God no…
“Oh my God, Mum you can’t say that!!!” On reflection I realise that this is a grave mistake! Saying can’t to my mother is never a good thing and we have only just got over the blue coat incident, I know she will argue the point to the death, no matter even if she knows she is wrong.. This is the most acutely alarming moment…
“What do you mean Natalie – of course I can say it! This belt is *N* brown!” She waves the belt at me! “That is what it is called, Natalie, *N* brown, *N* brown!! That is the colour of it!”
“Oh My God!! Stop saying it – you can’t say that!”
“For Goodness sake, what do you think I am saying? That is the name of the colour, really Natalie!”; she shrugs her shoulders, at the nonsense I am making of it, - yes really! She continues to enlighten me; “I had pencils called *N*brown when I was a child! It is a very nice colour, don’t look at me like that – stop making a fuss!” There is a look on her face it is impossible for me to distinguish, if she has realised that she has made a colossal hideous mistake or if she really is that ignorant to what she has just said and keeps repeating? She continues, slightly flustered, but she is determined at all costs to fight her corner, “Natalie, everyone knows that is the name of a colour, it is quite normal! *N* brown!” Oh for Fuck sake STOP!! – I give her my hardest stare – I hope it looks like ‘Shut the fuck up mother’ sort of stare…. She opens her mouth …
“MUM – STOP SAYING IT!!! YOU CAN’T SAY THAT NOW IT IS NOT A COLOUR ANYMORE!!!” I charged her and try to wrestle the belt out of her hands, in the vain hope that this might just stop her from continuing, but she’s not having of it, she is holding firm as I yank one way and she yanks the other. She snaps the belt away from me and moves away.
“You think you know, everything Natalie, but you don’t, I can tell you that for years they have been calling it …. “ Oh my God – what the fuck, she is saying it again, what is the matter with her?
“STOP!!” STOP –“ And for real emphasis; “STOP IT - NOW!”
She responds calmly to me glancing toward Roz and the other stunned shopper, by way of an explanation. “Natalie, you are being silly! Everyone knows …..” And she repeats the word over and over again for clarity I presume? “This name is used all over the world”, Oh my God now she is going ‘global’! “On colour charts, paint cans, chocolate for example, haven’t you ever seen it on paint cans? It is used all over the world – as a colour, it is perfectly normal – everyone uses it!” This is one of my mother’s things, she is now trying to broaden the appeal! I am beginning to think that she has either lost her mind completely or has been in my brother’s bedroom one to many times smoking one of his funny smelling cigarettes… When she comes out of his room, happy and dancing, usually this prompts Trevor to ask me – why is your mother so happy? Which is to be fair a rare occurrence in their relationship!
As you can imagine I am acutely embarrassed… I just want to get out of the shop and shut her up! “Please stop Mum! And no you haven’t seen it anywhere recently, stop saying it!!” Her hands have gone to her hips and she is shrugging her shoulders. Again she starts rattling off various items and products that were dark brown, except she did not call them dark brown! It is excruciating. Now I am getting cross, I give her my best stare, you know the one that your parent gives you when you are young and it means be quite or else! It is not working she is adamant that she is right! Shouting now, “LOOK MUM!!! You can’t say it now, on any level! It is offensive, very, very offensive AND it is RACIST!! STOP!!”
This seemed to shake her from her endless listing, she looks shocked, finally!! “Racist – Natalie, what on earth do you mean, I can promise you it is a colour and there is nothing wrong with that? Me - a racist, don’t be so ridiculous, everyone knows I am not a racist!” To use Trevor’s phrase when he wants her to stop – ‘I think the penny had dropped!’
“You can’t say it Mum, it is racist and it is rude and it is unacceptable, we are going, now!” She stopped and stared for a moment, she looked generally a bit shaken. She turned to Roz, who had now moved over to her other customer and was trying to ignore the scene that was unfolding in her shop.
“For Goodness Sake Natalie, how could anyone think I am racist? I mean, I go on holiday to Barbados every year for nearly six months of the year!??” Yes you could not write it – except I am! Oh God this is not happening to me!
“You young people!” Now I knew that she wants a way out, my mother never calls anyone young, she is one of the young people, I don’t think that she has really ever seen herself over the age of about 30 – at a push! “You young people are always changing things, one never knows what is going on, all this new language, you are always changing meanings, making people look silly, I have no idea why you do it Natalie, it is very difficult for people!!” It has clearly escaped my mother that changing any meanings of any words is nothing to do with me – But somehow she skilfully makes it my fault!
And now for the curved ball! A complete change of direction!
“Roz did you know that Natalie won’t let anyone read her Vogue magazines?” To be fair this statement is absolutely correct, even if it had little to do with the belt’s colour. Roz and her customer just looked from me to my mother. “What person is so mean as to not let people read their magazines? Natalie won’t, she hides them out of the way.” I have no idea why I attempt to defend myself in these situations, but I always fall into the trap!
“I don’t hide my magazines!!”
“Yes you do Natalie! You always say that I can’t flick through your Vogue magazine, when I am at your house! Look Roz has some Vogue magazines there on the shelf,” my mother again turns to Roz; “Do you stop people from reading your magazines Roz? – I am sure you don’t?” Roz just looked bemused.
“Of course Roz let’s people read her magazines Mum, that is what they are there for! For God sake!”
“Oh that is kind Roz, Natalie can’t bear anyone to even touch her magazines, and she doesn’t share!”
For God sake – “I do!” This is classic ‘my mother’ – And what is worse is that I engage with it which makes me look like a 5 year old!
“You don’t, look what happened last week – You took the magazines out of the room!”
Just for the record I am not a – Magazine hider! – In the main!
“I DON’T HIDE THEM MUM! I JUST HIDE THEM FROM YOU!!” She winces for dramatic effect at my statement. I mean really, what sort of a daughter hides her Vogue magazines from her mother? I am a monster!
I try and calm my comments; “Look I don’t hide them from you, mum, I take them away from you because you lick your fingers when you turn the pages, which smudges the ink and you fold down the edges of ‘my’ magazine before I have even read them, you know I collect them!” Roz and her customer wince, now, looking slightly revolted. This honestly does not make my situation any better, I now look like I am making out my mother to be unsanitary – which she is not!
The outcome, after a few more harsh comments about my lack of magazine sharing and we are heading for the door!
If only I had had half a brain cell I would have just paid for my jumper and forcibly removed my mother from this poor woman’s shop after the first incident, about an hour and a half ago. My mother to Roz and her bemused customer is still listing all the other magazines that are not in my collection that I don’t let her read either! I can’t win!
I purchased the black jumper as my wedding outfit, I am going to tell her one day very soon that I am getting married, a week on Friday. Based on today, now is not the right time to approach it. My mother purchases a number of other items, not the belt and nothing further is said to me and I think that Roz was happy to get us out of her shop.
Never a dull moment!! …
Chapter 2 – Coming soon!
