Wedding Dress Alterations Quotes

This is Luke’s favorite thing to say about me, to remind me. I’m a survivor. It’s the finality of the word that bothers me, its assuming implication. Survivors should move on. Should wear white wedding dresses and carry peonies down the aisle and overcome, rather than dwell in a past that can’t be altered. The word dismisses something I cannot, will not, dismiss.

And then there was Joss. I met him in a dimly lit office, where he regaled me with tales of adventure, swashbuckling, shootings, spaceships, and narrow escapes. Um, where do I sign? He gave me a new identity, a costume, a gun, and a long brown duster for a cape. I remember that meeting so well; it was like a superhero "origin" issue. I remember Joss looking at Polaroid photos of my first costume fitting, holding up the one with the duster and gun saying, "Action figure, anyone?" Never in my wildest. Like some sort of super-team benefactor, Joss made superheroes out of all of us, complete with a super-hideout spaceship. During filming, we'd all retreat to our dressing room trailers and emerge like Supermen with our alter egos. The boots, the suspenders, gun holstered low on my hip... with a flick and a spin of that wicked awesome coat over my shoulders, I became someone else.

When, soon, they join in their happy wedding-bonds— and wedded let them be—in pacts of peace at last, never command the Latins, here on native soil, to exchange their age-old name, to become Trojans, called the kin of Teucer, alter their language, change their style of dress. Let Latium endure.

This is his favorite thing to say about me, to remind me. I'm a survivor. It's the finality of the word that bothers me, its assuming implication. Survivors should move on. Should wear white wedding dresses and carry peonies down the aisle and overcome, rather than dwell on a past that can't be altered. The word dismisses something I cannot, will not, dismiss.

THE MEETING" "Scant rain had fallen and the summer sun Had scorched with waves of heat the ripening corn, That August nightfall, as I crossed the down Work-weary, half in dream. Beside a fence Skirting a penning’s edge, an old man waited Motionless in the mist, with downcast head And clothing weather-worn. I asked his name And why he lingered at so lonely a place. “I was a shepherd here. Two hundred seasons I roamed these windswept downlands with my flock. No fences barred our progress and we’d travel Wherever the bite grew deep. In summer drought I’d climb from flower-banked combe to barrow’d hill-top To find a missing straggler or set snares By wood or turmon-patch. In gales of March I’d crouch nightlong tending my suckling lambs. “I was a ploughman, too. Year upon year I trudged half-doubled, hands clenched to my shafts, Guiding my turning furrow. Overhead, Cloud-patterns built and faded, many a song Of lark and pewit melodied my toil. I durst not pause to heed them, rising at dawn To groom and dress my team: by daylight’s end My boots hung heavy, clodded with chalk and flint. “And then I was a carter. With my skill I built the reeded dew-pond, sliced out hay From the dense-matted rick. At harvest time, My wain piled high with sheaves, I urged the horses Back to the master’s barn with shouts and curses Before the scurrying storm. Through sunlit days On this same slope where you now stand, my friend, I stood till dusk scything the poppied fields. “My cob-built home has crumbled. Hereabouts Few folk remember me: and though you stare Till time’s conclusion you’ll not glimpse me striding The broad, bare down with flock or toiling team. Yet in this landscape still my spirit lingers: Down the long bottom where the tractors rumble, On the steep hanging where wild grasses murmur, In the sparse covert where the dog-fox patters.” My comrade turned aside. From the damp sward Drifted a scent of melilot and thyme; From far across the down a barn owl shouted, Circling the silence of that summer evening: But in an instant, as I stepped towards him Striving to view his face, his contour altered. Before me, in the vaporous gloaming, stood Nothing of flesh, only a post of wood.

My father had a sister, Mady, who had married badly and ‘ruined her life.’ Her story was a classic. She had fallen in love before the war with an American adventurer, married him against her family’s wishes, and been disinherited by my grandfather. Mady followed her husband romantically across the sea. In America he promptly abandoned her. By the time my parents arrived in America Mady was already a broken woman, sick and prematurely old, living a life two steps removed from destitution. My father, of course, immediately put her on an allowance and made her welcome in his home. But the iron laws of Victorian transgression had been set in motion and it was really all over for Mady. You know what it meant for a woman to have been so disgraced and disinherited in those years? She had the mark of Cain on her. She would live, barely tolerated, on the edge of respectable society for the rest of her life. A year after we arrived in America, I was eleven years old, a cousin of mine was married out of our house. We lived then in a lovely brownstone on New York’s Upper West Side. The entire house had been cleaned and decorated for the wedding. Everything sparkled and shone, from the basement kitchen to the third-floor bedrooms. In a small room on the second floor the women gathered around the bride, preening, fixing their dresses, distributing bouquets of flowers. I was allowed to be there because I was only a child. There was a bunch of long-stemmed roses lying on the bed, blood-red and beautiful, each rose perfection. Mady walked over to them. I remember the other women were wearing magnificent dresses, embroidered and bejeweled. Mady was wearing only a simple white satin blouse and a long black skirt with no ornamentation whatever. She picked up one of the roses, sniffed deeply at it, held it against her face. Then she walked over to a mirror and held the rose against her white blouse. Immediately, the entire look of her plain costume was altered; the rose transferred its color to Mady’s face, brightening her eyes. Suddenly, she looked lovely, and young again. She found a long needle-like pin and began to pin the rose to her blouse. My mother noticed what Mady was doing and walked over to her. Imperiously, she took the rose out of Mady’s hand and said, ‘No, Mady, those flowers are for the bride.’ Mady hastily said, ‘Oh, of course, I’m sorry, how stupid of me not to have realized that,’ and her face instantly assumed its usual mask of patient obligation. “I experienced in that moment an intensity of pain against which I have measured every subsequent pain of life. My heart ached so for Mady I thought I would perish on the spot. Loneliness broke, wave after wave, over my young head and one word burned in my brain. Over and over again, through my tears, I murmured, ‘Unjust! Unjust!’ I knew that if Mady had been one of the ‘ladies’ of the house my mother would never have taken the rose out of her hand in that manner. The memory of what had happened in the bedroom pierced me repeatedly throughout that whole long day, making me feel ill and wounded each time it returned. Mady’s loneliness became mine. I felt connected, as though by an invisible thread, to her alone of all the people in the house. But the odd thing was I never actually went near her all that day. I wanted to comfort her, let her know that I at least loved her and felt for her. But I couldn’t. In fact, I avoided her. In spite of everything, I felt her to be a pariah, and that my attachment to her made me a pariah, also. It was as though we were floating, two pariahs, through the house, among all those relations, related to no one, not even to each other. It was an extraordinary experience, one I can still taste to this day. I was never again able to address myself directly to Mady’s loneliness until I joined the Communist Party. When I joined the Party the stifled memory of that strange wedding day came back to me. . .

Prettiness. Elsa knew that was the crux of it. she was not an attractive woman. On her best day, in her best dress, a stranger might say she was handsome, but never more. She was "too" everything-too tall, too thin, too pale, too unsure of herself. Elsa had attended both of her sisters' weddings. Neither had asked her to stand with them at the alter, and Elsa understood. At nearly six feet, she was taller than the grooms; she would ruin the photographs, and image was everything to the Wolcotts. Her parents prized it above all else.

Jana Ann Bridal Couture | Custom Wedding Dresses San Diego Are you frustrated by the wedding dress buying process and tired of trying on dress after dress with no luck? The modern woman and her strict schedule do not have much time for boutique hopping to find a dress inspired by a hundred pieces you have already seen before. If all wedding dresses start to look the same to you, choose to stand out from the crowd with a custom made wedding dress, handcrafted Jana Ann Couture dress. Blending in is so not your style, so why settle for less? Our bridal boutique is different from the rest. We know that the searches for bridal boutiques in San Diego have increased after the pandemic. This is why our team of design experts has created a collection of flexible creations that can be altered to fit in your bridal shenanigans. We have seen it all, from ruffles to lace to mermaid tails, and there is no job too complicated for us. If you are having trouble finding a dress that is as unique as you, your first stop should be Jana Ann Bridal Boutique. It has never been simpler to find the dress of your dreams. Jana Ann makes all of its wedding dresses by hand, meaning you can be sure of the gown’s high-quality and craftsmanship. Moreover, you won’t have to worry about seeing similar wedding dresses on other brides. Maybe you’ve given up on finding the perfect wedding dress. We want to breathe new hope into your search at Jana Ann Bridal Boutique in San Diego. We have all the trending styles and the ability to create a new trend specifically for you. What are you waiting for? Don’t make do with any San Diego bridal boutique search when you have us only an interaction away! Dreaming of a customized wedding dress? Have Jana Ann onboard to get the most exclusive couture designs for your wedding! Book an appointment now. Call us: (619) 649-2439 #San_Diego_Wedding_Dresses #San_Diego_Bridal_Shops #Bridal_Shops_San_Diego #San_Diego_Bridal_Boutique #Custom_Wedding_Dresses_San_Diego #Plus_Size_Wedding_Dresses #Beach_Wedding_Dresses #Simple_Wedding_Dresses #San_Diego_Bridal_Shops #Bridal_Shops_near_me #Wedding_Dresses_San_Diego #Wedding_Dresses_near_me #San_Diego_Bridal_Boutique #Bridal_Boutique_near_me #San_Diego_Wedding_Shop #Wedding_shop_near_me #San_Diego_Bridal_Stores #Bridal_Stores_near_me

When I sat with clients and opened my mind to them, a taste usually came through. It might be sweet, sour, salty, or bitter. After a moment, it would blossom into a full flavor. The sweet ripeness of apricot, the sourness of a Key lime, the earthy saltiness of Mexican chocolate, the aromatic bitterness of nutmeg. In a flash, a feeling would follow the flavor. Joy. Skepticism. Lust for life. Quiet acceptance. And from that feeling would come a memory, a scene called back to present day. A moment whose real meaning and importance I might never fully know. And I didn't really need to know everything. I used my gift to see my clients' stories so I could design desserts- in this case, a wedding cake- to fit each customer like a couture gown, not an off-the-rack dress in desperate need of alterations. If I got the cake and filling and frosting flavors right, they would resonate with my clients, reaching them in those down-deep places where they would begin to feel that everything really would be all right.

Premier Bridal Studio is your destination for elegant bridal gowns, stylish bridesmaid dresses, and tuxedo rentals. With a curated collection of timeless and modern designs, the studio ensures every client finds the perfect fit for their big day. The experienced team provides personalized service and in-house alterations, creating a seamless and memorable shopping experience. From head to toe, Premier Bridal Studio is dedicated to making your wedding vision a beautiful reality.

Dress Your Fancy is a full-service bridal boutique offering designer wedding gowns, bridesmaid dresses, prom attire, and formal wear for special occasions. With top designers like Allure and Justin Alexander, personalized appointments, and expert in-house alterations, the boutique ensures every client finds the perfect fit and style. From accessories to gown preservation, Dress Your Fancy provides a complete, elegant experience for brides and guests preparing for life’s most memorable moments.