"Last Train Out" by Mamie Morgan: Unexpected Style
In 2021, after leaving a 15-year academic career, I opened an independent bridal boutique called Opal with local photographer Julia Sears. Appropriately, I’d met Julia years before when she shot our wedding. But before that, she photographed us for our engagement at an old ivy-covered gas station on Highway 8. We were nervous, and she was privy to the fact that my fiancé loved Selena Gomez. Before we knew it, Julia pulled from her purse a tiny speaker and began blaring “Hands to Myself.”
The bridal shop was a longtime dream of Julia’s, and I initially joined simply as an investor, but the day we signed our lease, we found out -- Surprise! -- she was expecting her first child. We pivoted our roles, as they say in the business world, one of those umbrella terms known to paraphrase so much. In short, I learned a lot about wedding gowns in a very (emphasis on very) brief time frame. I’m still learning.
For those who’ve not sidestepped from academia to bridal at 40 years old, let me tell you what happens: Your friends and family ask concerned questions. The uncle you only see at Thanksgiving wonders if you’re exhibiting signs of a mid-life whatchamacallit. The guy you dated eight billion years ago and for only a few months approaches you at the bar of your favorite lunch spot, where you’re innocently eating chicken tenders because you possess the culinary palette of an elementary schooler, and muses: “A bridal shop? Don’t you think that’s a little silly?” You do not think it’s silly. You also do not, much to the chagrin of your inner wishes, throttle him.
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We know that style is personal, that it’s inherently expressive. Now that I’m in the field, what I value most and am learning to appreciate more acutely are the many gears at play when actually enacting one’s style, bringing that style to life. First, there’s the cross-section of history as it relates to current trend or moment. I’ll never forget my confusion when a few years ago we began seeing teens and tweens wearing Nirvana t-shirts that they’d procured from mainstream stores. It was the same Nirvana I loved as a kid in the early ’90s, reimagined, and definitely rebranded.
There’s also the undeniable financial component. Years ago, I loved a column in a popular fashion magazine that showcased a look -- from clothing to shoes to accessories -- you could get for under $50, one for under $500, one for under $1,000. As someone who never had much money, I always gravitated to the least expensive look, because that’s where, in my opinion, real scrap and ingenuity and creativity begin
Inside our shop, people ask less about who they are, and more about how they envision and subsequently want to present themselves on a very particular day -- one that’s often magical, but also expensive, pressurized, and highly sensory (not unlike a trip to New Orleans if you ask me). And if the human getting married has brought along their mom or best friends or coworkers or siblings? Well then you add to the mix a Greek chorus of folks who also carry ideas regarding how the person hunting for a wedding dress should present and express on that special day.
Sometimes, a bride arrives armed with Pinterest boards and other forms of inspiration. She knows exactly what she’s after and leaves with that very dress, or leaves to continue the search for it. More often than not, though, the bride who comes in looking for rustic walks out in modern chic. The one looking for traditional romantic might leave in editorial edge. I love when the unexpected occurs, as it’s almost always accompanied by the person in a wedding gown saying some version of this to themselves: “I’ve never seen myself like this before. I never could have predicted I’d choose something like this, not in a million years.”
Sure, brides often cry when they find their dress, just like on reality television shows. And sure, it likely has to do with the love they have for their partner, their nerves coming into fruition, etc. But I’m convinced it’s also because they’re seeing themselves in the present as both a reminder of who they’ve been and a confrontation with who they want to be on a given day in their lives, at a given moment.
Sometimes, when our pit bull/Boston terrier mix meets a new person, she’ll pull her raggedy, gnawed-on tire over and drop it at their feet. Or she’ll roll onto her back and stick out her hind legs and display the scars from double cranial cruciate ligament surgery. Or both. And afterward, always, she slowly backs away into a sit, not-so-subtly proud of herself. She seems to be insisting: “This is who I am,” which is her style, which is her way, which isn’t silly in the slightest.
This article originally appeared on Greenville News: "Last Train Out" by Mamie Morgan: Unexpected Style
