The Dress Maker Novels & Stories

Gibson stepped forward to pat his back, attempting to soothe him. “You—you keep coddling her!” he scolded, furious at their lack of accountability. Xena, seeing her grandfather’s genuine anger, shrank behind her mother, muttering resentfully, “It’s just a dress. I’ll buy her another one!” Haley raised an eyebrow and said calmly, “This dress was a gift from my mother. It was custom-designed by the renowned designer Gracia, made specifically to my measurements. There’s only one in the world.” Gracia was globally recognized for his exclusive evening gowns. He only designed for private clients or for runway shows, and his creations were never mass-produced or sold in retail stores. Each dress st

Lynette cries, releasing the corset and letting me breathe, “I have to make sure it clings to her like a second skin! There’s no going back after this. When I am done Mrs Sinclair will thank me.” “Wait… what do you mean there’s no going back?” I croak out, turning to face her, “Are you making my final dress right now?” Lynette blinds me with a perfect smile, “Of course I am. I only do one dress per customer.” My heart thumps as I process what she’s saying. One dress? I only get one choice? “But what if… what if I don’t like it as much as I would like something else?” I’m gentle, but you would think I just told Lynete that she’s the stupidest dressmaker I’ve ever met with the way her face cru

Racks of clothes are rolled in alongside boxes of shoes into my room. I stand up from my vanity chair and walk towards them with glee that immediately turns into a frown. “What the hell are these?” The dressmaker comes out from behind the racks and stands in front of me. “I asked you a question. Are your lips sewn shut?” “They're the clothes you requested for my lady.” “I asked for Bold, dark and Hot and you give me this? This– this plain boring nonsense? How am I supposed to stand out and make my presence known with these colours?” I yell at her, removing and flinging the clothes on the floor.

It was so much, I lost count. "if you ever get stranded and need money, just sell this gorgeous dress and you're set for life. So, don't ever leave it behind. " could still remember the joke my dress maker made the day I was testing the dress out. What did she mean that I shouldn't leave it behind? The dress is completely armless, exposing most of my upper breasts. The sleeves is embroidered with lacy patterns. My eyes crosses the ring embedded on my finger again and my heart sunk.

She uttered enthusiastically. Soon they arrived at the shop Vivian was referring to. The displayed dresses are elegant, and the shop has both men's and women's clothing. “Not bad,” Latton commented while checking the clothes on the rack. “Welcome to our store. All of our clothes are made to order, the dresses on the display are only samples, and we have an in-house designer who could draw the dress you need.” The store clerk says. Vivian smiled at the clerk and began taking a few clothes with her. “I want to try a few styles. If I want any of them, I’ll call you.” She replied.

“Nobody will be able to look anywhere but at you with that dress on.” The older woman who designed the dress turned crimson at all the appreciation and praise. “If Mademoiselle likes this one,” she spoke with a faint Creole accent, making me wonder if Micah had imported some of these dressmakers from further out than he had originally confessed, “perhaps she might like this other piece that I brought, you know, just in case.” “I don’t know,” Micah muses in the way that he does when he is only pretending not to know. “She may be too tired to try on one more dress…”

I didn’t want him to think I didn’t appreciate it. “I know the perfect place,” Mrs. James replied. “There is a designer and dressmaker’s shop just out of town that makes the most exquisite creations. I’ll be getting my ball gown there.” “I think I know exactly where you are talking about,” I said, giving Victor a sly look. If only I dared to tell Mrs. James that was where I purchased my wetsuit. But I did agree with her that the shop had fabulous clothes. “I’ll be sure to see that Daisy gets to the shop to choose her gown in time for the ball,” Alex assured her. “Thank you for your advice, Lily.”

It had been a long time since anyone saw him last but Elena assured me he checked on her regularly. “I don’t like to buy dresses, instead dresses she made for me. I have a seamstress, she’ll design styles for you that you would never see on anyone else’s body, c’mon.” The seamstress store was far at the extreme of the market but it was a big place. The woman sold all sought of material and I had to admit that it was a thrilling feeling to pick the material you want your dress to be in. “You can check this one out, I’ve used it before and I loved it,” Elena recommended. I held the material and it was smooth to touch, “Let’s check another.”

he admitted grumpily. When we got to the dress store, it was even worse. Alex had brought me toAtelier Harmonique, a beautiful store in midtown, where they made bridal dresses for princesses and visiting dignitaries. It was astonishing. I’d never seen such rare and beautiful clothes. There were corsages made from 19th-century lace, beautiful skirts and blouses made from fabrics you just didn’t see anymore, like velour and crenalin.

A smile creases his weathered face as he remarks, "It feels like this dress was made for you, my dear. You wear it with such grace and beauty." Elizabeth's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. However, curiosity tugs at her, and she looks up at the store owner, a touch of solemnity in her voice. She inquires about the dress's history, wanting to understand its origins and the stories it carries within its seams. The owner's expression softens, and he sighs deeply. He reveals that the dress once belonged to a young girl who dreamed of wearing it to her prom, a milestone in her life.