Another little story for you 🙂
‘First day of autumn ladies. I think we should get out the sunburnt orange dresses’
That’s Millie Molloy, owner of Molloy’s Weddings and my boss. If mannequins can have bosses that is. I don’t have a name like Mille and her two assistants I’m just me. A mannequin. I can think and see but little else. I’ve worked in a few stores over the years but this one is my favourite. I love the dresses I get to wear. I have lots of different styles but also such beautiful colours like the dress I’ve just been given; the tulle and satin the colour of orange leaves just fallen from trees.
The Bride is here with her gaggle of friends. This is their fourth fitting so far. I believe the term is ‘bridezilla’ but it seems harsh. She seems very stressed, everything must be perfect and just so and the same goes for her bridesmaids. The dresses must be the same length and same style. There were tears when one girl needed wide straps adding to her beautiful dress to hold up her ample bosom. The physical appearance seems to be uppermost on all these girls’ minds. I hear them talk of dieting and wanting to be in smaller sizes than they are. Is this what it’s like to be a real woman? The need to always be perfect?
Oh The Bride has Her with her today. Her is a bridesmaid but she comes in separately sometimes to look at the wedding dresses. I hear her talking to Millie about her own dream wedding and the dress she would have if only He would ask her. She has such sad eyes. I’ve seen them both, Her and Him as I stand in the shop window; me looking out and seeing everything, Her looking in and seeing only her distant dreams and Him looking like he wishes to be anywhere else except where he is. The unasked question is obvious to everyone and even The Bride puts aside her to-do lists to offer sympathy now and again.
Last week she tried on the dresses again. Her favourite is a 1940’s style with lots of fringing with no back and covered in beads and embellishments. She looked like a beautiful dancer missing her dance partner. She’s hinted that she may buy it anyway as it’s a timeless piece that can be worn any year but I think maybe not for any man. Is this again a human thing? To buy something that may never be worn may never even be seen. Hidden away somewhere along with the remnants of a broken heart.
Also in the group is the Sister: a lady who has no partner, no soul mate. I see Sister all the time; she walks past once a week. There is a hospital, homeless shelter and a court room nearby so maybe she goes past on her way to work. The Sister has hopeful eyes though rather than sad ones. I know from the wedding gossip that she is on her own but hopes one day to marry again, that her life partner is out there. When she stops by each week I can see her looking at the dresses through the window, mentally working out which one would suit her, which one would make her look old and trying to decide on the one that would showcase her timeless beauty the best. She seems to like the straighter sheath dresses that fall elegantly straight rather than the full bodice and lace of some of the dresses. Not for her the giant puffball and hooped underskirts. Will she ever meet her One? It’s not a concept I understand.
The assistants will talk to me while they change my clothes but I can’t call them friends. I wonder what they would do if I ever spoke back to them. Or the ladies as they remark on my dresses as they feel the lace, the beads, the satin.
‘That’s it. Everything is spot on. I can’t wait for next week’ trills The Bride. And then they are gone in a sweep of perfume and laughter. The Bride, finally finding the perfection she desires, Her; the sister wondering if the wedding will finally prompt Him into asking the Question she so desperately craves and Sister, so happy for her sibling but wondering when her own Knight in shining armour will appear. This is love; this friendship is what makes the world go around. If I were human this is all the love I would ask for.