amo { I love } simple wedding dresses

I've been fussing and fretting over the details of my wedding dress since summer vacation began. When I chose the dress this spring, I loved the shape, cut and style, but one piece of it was not as perfect to me. Even though I didn't like this one part of the dress, I knew it was easily fixed, and made the purchase. Besides, I didn't want to have the same exact dress as every other girl who bought that dress.
It turned out not to be as easy as I thought. The mechanics of the change are simple enough, but choosing a replacement was not. I've looked at dozens of options and found only a few I liked. I'm a very DIY person, and my goal was to make the change myself, instead of buying something pre-made. A lot of brides would think I'm crazy for daring to alter something myself on the sacred, holy wedding dress. My opinion: it's a dress, I bought it, and if I don't like something then I ought to change it or arrange to have it changed. Besides, it's not some revered designer's creation; it's a bargain dress from a wedding chain, a fact which probably encouraged me to "fix" it. Having the ability to change it myself, I did. I wanted to have the work of my own hands and ideas as a part of my dress, my presentation to my husband-to-be. I've had over 26 years to daydream about my wedding day, and I've never really been romanced by any traditions for their own sakes. I very nearly swore off a veil, but talked myself into the reasoning behind it. I do appreciate the idea of a bride presenting herself at her glorious best to honor both her husband-to-be and God who binds them together. I want to put as much of myself into my presentation to my husband-to-be.
Back to my dress and the irritating matter of the thing I didn't like. In the end, I've decided not to have a "thing" at all. Ripped it off myself (carefully) and realized it was much better without anything there at all. I decided this after looking at pictures of simple wedding dresses and falling absolutely in love with the quiet elegance of a gown that allows the bride to glow in her own natural beauty and joy. I don't know why it took me this long to figure it out - when I went dress shopping months ago, every time the consultant asked about my taste, I said, "No ruching, no assymetrical anything, and nothing over-the-top. Lace and beading are okay, but in moderation."

The thought had occurred to me early on not to have a "thing" but I felt like there was some rule that I had to have one because all the others did. Well, all the others do not. I've been to a few weddings and have been distracted silently critiquing the bride's dress. The most beautiful weddings I've been to are the ones where I find myself entranced by the bride. Not her dress, not her veil, not the decorations. Her. I want to be a bride who captivates my groom. He may be curious about my dress now and in the days and hours and minutes leading up to my appearance at the chapel doors, but I want him to see only me when I arrive. This whole time I thought I was frustrated with the dress, but I've really been frustrated with myself. I don't like fussing over details that just don't matter. It can be an effective distraction, even fun, but really - who cares? On our wedding day, I intend to wear my ivory gown, my diamond ring, my prerequisite "somethings" including his mother's pearl necklace, 1940s-style blue pumps, and my grandmother's art deco cameo ring. And that's it. No sparklies, no bling, no special effects. After deciding this, I am so excited about wearing that dress.

Not that I'm having second thoughts about my dress (I've been through that already anyway - I'm over it) but here are some more gorgeous simple dresses I can't stop looking at. The first one below is discontinued to my knowledge, but it was a favorite years before Andy proposed. The designer is Anne Barge and if I had the means I would have blindly chosen any one of her dresses and been the happiest little bride. Seriously, visit her website. I dare you to find a dress that you wouldn't wear.

http://www.annebarge.com/

http://www.amsale.com/

http://www.rivini.com/

http://www.watters.com/

I simply love the dresses at Watters Brides. One of my best friends is wearing a gorgeous gown by this designer. The dresses there are reasonably affordable too, which makes them even better!

http://www.lelarose.com/

http://www.annfrances.com/

This one is a little less simple than most I've included here, but I found it so breathtaking I had to include it. I love the billowy, airy fabric that practically defies gravity. This is a dress right out of a fairy tale. Love it. http://www.lelarose.com/

http://www.reemacra.com/

http://www.ariadress.com/

Italian Born

To my knowledge, there isn't a drop of Italian blood in my veins. But I was born there, and my parents raised me under the influence of the Italian culture they enjoyed for several years while my dad, an Air Force veteran, was stationed there for a the better part of the eighties. They cooked Italian food, decorated with Italian art, taught me Italian words, and talked about life there. I've always felt very Italian, and not one bit Oklahoman. Of the many places we lived, and we lived in some fascinating places, I've always had the feeling they loved Italy the best. I only wish I could remember it. I've grown up feeling Italian and thinking Italian, and I guess you could say I consider myself a first-generation Italian.

(And there go my fiance's eyes, rolling in embarrassment.)

But if he thought about it for a second, one could make the argument that, like me, he is displaced too. Andy has confessed many times that despite being born in Oklahoma, he doesn't feel at all Oklahoman either. He was raised under the influence of the wild Colorado mountains. His parents took him and his younger brother camping and backpacking their entire childhoods, and the gravity of that influence became obvious to me not long after we began dating. Among Andy's belongings are books about Colorado and backpacking, camping paraphernalia, stacks of t-shirts emblazoned with the names of mountains and their elevations, photos and posters of the breathtaking Rockies. It's my opinion that it's not the soil on which your feet stand, but the landscape in which your heart finds peace, comfort, and passion that makes you belong somewhere. I'm hugely grateful that Oklahoma became our limbo or middle-ground between our hearts' homes, so that we were able to find each other.

Naturally, I've feathered my nest with Italian touches. I will say it's very difficult to find decent Italian-looking items in Oklahoma. You can find "Tuscan-inspired" merchandise all over the place, but it's often just short of tacky, if not totally tacky. Seeing print after print of watery Venetian canals and rolling cyprus-dotted fields with hazy piazzas in the background, gaudy mass-produced dishes with a "Tuscan design" is almost akin to being Latino, wanting to reflect your culture in your home, and, frustratingly, finding little more than sombrero-topped figurines. I have to be careful with my choices so as not to smack my guests in the face with the overwhelming presence of Italian influences. Admittedly, I have a handful of items that actually say "Italia" or "Venezia," and I honestly adore the sign in my kitchen that announces in bold red, "Bella Cucina, Buon Appetito". Many modern homes are built with Tuscan roofs and Tuscan kitchens, full of glossy golden brown granite counter tops and arched doorways. Fine. But my kitchen is closer to the actual size of an Italian kitchen - tiny. (Though my parents would quickly and loudly tell me that their Italian kitchen was at least half as big as mine and much less equipped. I hear you, Mom and Dad. But you get my point. The Tuscan-style kitchen built in a Midwestern American suburb two years ago is FAR from the true Tuscan kitchen that has cooked a few hundred years' worth of meals and is probably overrun with scorpions from time to time.)

When I own a house, my kitchen will be small and full of food where you can see it. It will be decorated by the colors and textures of earthenware and copper, with the smells of formaggio, pomodori, and pane (cheese, tomatoes, and bread). Banged up copper molds will hang on the walls, and my kitchen tools will hang over my stove. My pots and pans will hang over a counter top somewhere in the middle. It will look less like this nonsense:

and more like this: 

You probably think I'm crazy for wanting an old kitchen. And for the most part, I agree. It is the 21st century after all, so a dishwasher and refrigerator are acceptable appliances. (Though I lived most of my life without a dishwasher, so I won't feel impoverished without one.) But I want it to wear with pride the meals that have been cooked there - the scratches of the knives from slicing through bread and vegetables, the lingering scent of bruschetta toasting in the oven, the starchy water stain on the metal pots from boiling pasta noodles. I look forward to being in my kitchen at least three times a day, accumulating precious hours cooking for my family, filling their bellies with good wholesome food and their heads with memories of crazy old Mom, who always thought she was really Italian. 

Make Your Own Milk Glass

My Nana always filled her home with beautiful antiques and vintage heirlooms, from china cabinets, to porcelain dolls, Depression glass, blue onion china, and my new favorite, milk glass, named for its color and luster. 

I once thought it was an artistry from the early- to mid-twentieth century, but after quick research, I was surprised to learn that this art was developed in 17th century Italy. It was made in all colors, but white became so popular it received its own title, originally being called opal glass. Usually opaque, but at times translucent, the name milk glass wasn't used until recent years. 

All kinds of items have been made in milk glass, from dishes and lamps to jewelry. The most valuable pieces are decades, if not centuries old, while the more recent "Depression" milk glass, while still valuable, is less so. But the good news is that these beautiful pieces are surprisingly affordable. You can often find 20th century milk glass in any antique store, and I know that next time I'm in one with money to burn, I'll be sure to pick up a piece to start a collection. 

Here are some pieces I found on my favorite vintage and handmade website, Etsy, that you can drool over and buy today, assuming I haven't snatched it up first. :) 

Antique cameo pin from Ceiltiques, $5.99

Vintage Brooch from The Roaring Thrifties, $14.63

1930's necklace from I Love Luci, $45

Vintage earrings from Lucra, $9.50

Pedestal box with lid from High Street Market, $28

Two candleholders, compote, and vase from The Boomin' Granny, $25 

Fruit bowl from Mallory Jane, $18

Vases from ImpulseART, $24

Hobnail lamps from KP Dreams, $48

Hobnail vases from Fragile Kats, $17.99

English hobnail pedestal bowl from Whozitwhatzit, $20

Hobnail bell from Mom's Antiques 'n Things, $6

Hobnail collection from Rew Star Gazer, $24

Hobnail wall sconce from Dirty Birdies Vintage, $25

Ruffled hobnail compote from Theresa J Too, $24

You can make your own "milk glass" with any clear glass container you find at home.   I did this with a spaghetti sauce jar and acrylic paint. No paint brushes required, no mess! If you have kids, let them help!

First, choose a clear glass container. If it has a lid, that will make the job a lot easier, but it's still do-able without one.  I do strongly suggest you choose a container with a small opening at the top, not a wide bowl or vase. You will be coating the inside of the container and you don't want your paint to be obvious by being able to see inside easily.

 

Pick your shade of white paint. Between titanium white and warm white, I chose the cooler titanium. Warm white was just too off-white, and milk glass is pristine in color. 

Squeeze a generous amount inside the jar. The idea is to shake (if you have a lid!) or roll the container to completely coat the inside. That way you have the glossy glass texture but with the gorgeous milky color, whereas painting the outside would leave a matte paint texture. Only use enough paint to coat the inside, not so much that you have a pool of it at the bottom of your container. Be sure to completely coat all sides so that any light coming through doesn't betray any streaks or missed spots. For this reason, I did keep a paint brush handy because the thick acrylic paint stubbornly refused to drip to some areas, so I spread it around a bit. Perfection isn't necessary; from the outside all you can see is white. When it dries, you may find it necessary to touch-up a few places, especially around the top where light can make streaks and missed spots obvious. 

Now you have your own handmade "milk glass"! Be creative and make more with your favorite colors for an eye-catching collection. Use these as a vase for wildflowers or simply display in your kitchen window, bathroom, or anywhere you want. Happy crafting!

Retrospective

In the mid- to late-nineties, when Nick at Nite actually ran vintage programming from the early golden days of television, I was an avid viewer of shows like "I Love Lucy," "Leave It to Beaver" and "The Dick Van Dyke Show." 

I loved the crazy shenanigans the characters got into...

 the husband and wife relationships that always found humor in marriage...

the then-traditional family values and roles in the home...

...and of course the crazy shenanigans characters got into while in their then-traditional roles...

...and I think most of all, the loving relationships between husband and wife...

There is so much I love about the side of the 1950s these beloved television shows illustrated. I recently began re-watching "The Dick Van Dyke Show" on Netflix (my, how in-home entertainment has changed in the last sixty years) and felt my eye constantly drawn to the interior design of the Petrie home and Rob's New York office. It was the dawn of the suburb, post-World War Two, when baby boomers were settling down and trying to create quiet, simple lives, while experimenting with the new advances in technology, like electric appliances in the kitchen and televisions in the living room. Both home interiors and exteriors reflected this wave of streamlining, progress, and futuristic innovations, as the country blasted into space exploration and had big visions and hopes for the new frontier. Despite the threatening shadow of the Cold War, it seems to me that optimism was high as scientific advances were made in all areas of life. Jobs were plentiful, and education was improving. Cars were polished, powerful, slick, and sturdy. Homes were large and functional. 

I love the long sleek lines of 1950s and '60s interior design and architecture, the simple forms. Furniture was low and long, and patterns were usually not busy, but when they were, they had a comforting repetition. Right angles, geometric shapes, clean lines, and symmetry ruled the themes of design. Wood and metal, often brushed, were popular textures. Everything was polished and refined. I found some of my favorite examples of 1950's looks around the home. I found a lot of modern concepts that reflect the looks of the '50s, whose brighter more confident and pure colors appeal to a 21st century audience. I've noticed recent design has echoed much of the mid-twentieth century design, perhaps because that was a time of looking forward into the new space age, and now we've arrived at the period of time our parents and grandparents recall as their own. See if you can tell which photographs were taken in the fifties, and which could have been taken yesterday.