THE DRESS
PART ONE: THE FITTING
10:47 AM — Bridal Boutique, Manhattan
The dress hung on the velvet stand like a ghost waiting to be inhabited.
It was white. Not the stark white of artificial perfection, but a soft ivory with barely perceptible pearl undertones. The fabric was Italian silk with hand sewn Alençon lace along the bodice and train. The neckline was simple a modest scoop that would frame her collarbone. The waist was fitted, showing the shape of her body without compromising elegance. The train was long enough to be dramatic but not so long that it would be burdensome.
It was, Lucia had said when they’d first selected it, “a dress for a woman who knows who she is.”
Aria stood in the fitting room wearing only her undergarments and a silk robe. The seamstress a woman named E
