My Italian Seamstress

2.16.2011

I picked up my dress yesterday. This is the most I'll let you see of it. 


Hidden under there is the dress that made my mom cry. Twice.

As I mentioned before, this dress fit me perfectly, and due to my short time frame I was allowed to purchase it off the rack. The only alteration it needs is some hemming. 

My mom's friend's mom is a professional seamstress. Has been for many years. She's legit. How do I know? She has an accent. 

People with accents are always legit. 

(Unless it's a guy using a fake British accent to woo women before taking all their money. I don't trust those guys.)

My mom and I arrived at Italian Seamstress's house (does it make make me a bad person that I don't know her actual name?), and the cutest old lady ever answered the door.

"Eh...hello?"
We introduced ourselves, and she slowly led us toward the back of the house. 
"Dis is, eh, my room. You change now."
I pulled my dress out of the bag and slid it on. They had a bit of trouble zipping it up, but we got it on, and when I walked into the living room, she looked at me over her spectacles and pointed a wrinkled finger in the direction of the kitchen.
"Good. Now you stand on my kitchen table."
Apparently she was serious, because within minutes I was standing in my wedding dress on this adorable woman's kitchen table. She made me circle slowly, while she peered through her glasses with a critical eye. 
"You want, eh, to wear dese shoes?" She looked pointedly at the flats I was wearing, which peeked out the bottom of the dress.
"Yes, these are the shoes I was thinking about wearing."
"Dey no good."
I looked nervously at my mom, who shrugged.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes, because, eh, dese are pink, no?"
"Well," I said, trying not to sound stupid, "they looked cream in the store."
She grimaced. "Oh." Then she waved her finger in the air. "Turn."

It took her less time than I thought to pin up all four layers of my dress. When she was done, she helped me off the table and made me walk slowly for her to see how the hem fell at my feet.
"It is, eh, better, no?"
"Yes," I said, "much better."
"When, eh, is de date?"
"May 14."
"Good. Because, eh, I need some time to, eh, work. En you want eh bustle too?" (When she said it, it sounded like bousle.)
"Yes, I need a bustle."

She fixed me up just right, and a half hour I left, feeling confident that she was the perfect lady for the job. Now I just have to stick to my strict diet of eating whenever I feel like it. It seems to have worked for me so far. 


And I definitely need to get different shoes. Judging from her reaction to my other shoes, she probably won't even let me take the dress unless I promise to wear something satisfactory to her taste. I'm not messing with her. 

After all, she has an accent.

3 comments:

  1. Oh totally legit. I've never met a seamstress who didn't have an accent. Don't let her boss you about the shoes though, if you like them keep them. I know plenty of brides who wore colored shoes & looked FAB.

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  2. Thanks for the support! I wasn't the hugest fan of the shoes anyway, though, so I think I'll give her this one. For now.

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  3. I laughed out loud at "She's legit. How do I know? She has an accent." Absolutely brilliant.

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