How I found my wedding dress, by Ella Alexander
In a new series, brides recount how they ended up choosing their wedding gowns. Perhaps the most exciting, but overwhelming, sartorial decision you will make in your life, there is plenty to learn from those who have been through the process – from the pitfalls you must avoid to how you know when you’ve found ‘the one’. This time, author and Harper's Bazaar contributing editor Ella Alexander opens up about how she chose her gown for her Sicilian wedding.
I can pinpoint the exact day I thought I’d found my dream wedding dress. On 4 May 2013, Keira Knightley married James Righton in a Chanel couture pale grey bustier dress that fell to the knee. She skipped out of the French town hall that she’d got married in hand in hand with her husband, wearing sunglasses and a pair of ballet pumps. I loved everything about that look – how at ease she seemed and how, although beautiful, relaxed and unconventional her dress was. You could imagine it being worn again, which she did in the years that followed. It wasn’t dramatic, nor did it seem incongruous with what she might wear in her ordinary life – and, crucially, it looked like a dress to dance in. The dress I ended up wearing on my wedding day couldn’t have looked more different to Knightley’s, but the spirit was the same – non-traditional, quietly beautiful and with maximum dance-floor mileage.
As any bride will tell you the pressure to find the perfect wedding dress is immense. I needed to find, not one, but two outfits. My partner and I were getting married in Sicily in a city that we both love, but legally we needed to tie the knot in the UK first. We settled on Lambeth Town Hall in the heart of Brixton, a bus ride from where we live with our young son, where we hosted an intimate ceremony for 17 close family members followed by lunch at a beloved Italian restaurant called Maremma. Sicily would be a bigger celebration – a ceremony led by one of our best friends, followed by a giant knees-up in a baroque palazzo.
The dress I wore to my London ceremony was easy to find; a Monique Lhuillier full-skirted, midi-length style sourced from The Outnet. I ordered a style in white and red, but settled on the red. It was the colour that I truly fell for – I’d had a notion about wearing a red wedding dress ever since I’d watched Gone With The Wind as a little girl and saw Scarlett O’Hara in a dazzling rouge number. I found a pair of Ganni taffeta mules to give it a contemporary edge, and we were done.
The second dress was a more winding journey. I never thought bridal boutiques would be my bag until a PR friend suggested I visit Halfpenny London, an intimate bridal store in Bloomsbury and a favourite of celebrities and fashion editors. My appointment there transformed the way I thought about wedding dress shopping – I tried on styles I never would have considered after the gentle, thoughtful suggestions of founder Kate and her knowledgeable staff. There was one gown that I really loved – a white halter-neck style with a sweeping cape. I had gone from thinking I’d be a whimsical, low-key bride in a relaxed, knee-length dress to a bride that fancied herself as a marital version of Superman.
As the weeks went on, I still hadn’t bought the dress. It wasn’t that I didn’t love it, I did, but something held me back. My mum, clocking this delay, questioned why, in this quest to find the perfect dress, I hadn’t asked “the big fashion designer in my life”. At the time, I was co-writing Zandra Rhodes’ memoir, Iconic: My Life In Fashion In 50 Objects. Zandra was a long-standing friend, but I was nervous about approaching her. I didn’t want to seem greedy or presumptuous. Also, I knew that Zandra didn’t produce in-house anymore, designing only via collaborations with other brands. She is also one of the busiest people I’ve ever met and, as someone who is constantly telling her to sit down, I didn’t want to add to her workload. Perhaps most crucially, I didn’t have the budget that her pieces commanded.
In the end, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. I loved the thought of wearing a dress by a friend, it felt personal and right for our story. If wedding dresses are ultimately a mix of style, individuality and emotion then this would be a perfect fit. Zandra’s aesthetic has always resonated with me – her Seventies dresses are a blend of beauty, romance and whimsy. Hers are dresses that are made for twirling. They transform everyone into bohemian fairies in chiffon, from Bianca Jagger to Princess Diana. They’re also supremely comfortable, and would allow for multiple rounds of pasta in Sicily. I spoke to Zandra who asked if I’d be open to borrowing something from her archives. I jumped at the chance – who wouldn’t want to get married in a piece of fashion history?
A few weeks later, mum, my son and I met at Zandra’s penthouse where she had pulled together a rail of white dresses, dating from the Eighties back to the early Seventies. Again, I tried on everything – demure off-the-shoulder numbers numbers and full-skirted Eighties looks, before finding ‘the one’: a floor-sweeping chiffon dress with billowing sleeves and a plunging neckline dating back to 1973. It was covered in my favourite of her prints, ‘Field of the Lilies’, which she conceived on her first trip to Japan in 1971. It was delicate, ethereal and dream-like. “I think Donna Summer wore the same style on the cover of one of her album covers back in the 70s,” said Zandra casually, as my jaw hit the floor. I loved it.
Zandra generously suggested that she embroider pearls and crystals round the neckline and at the ends of the sleeves. She covered some of the fabric with flower-shaped sequins “to catch that Sicilian light darling”. She darted around me like a pink-haired pixie, taking my measurements, pinning and tucking where necessary. She cinched my waist in with a satin ivory-coloured sash, which I wasn’t sure about until I saw it on. I asked if we could lower the neckline so I could look more like Bianca Jagger in the plunging Zandra Rhodes dress she had worn for a night out with Mick in the 1970s (as if the neckline was the only thing stopping me from looking the same). Zandra raised an eyebrow, but agreed. I couldn’t believe any of it – I still can’t. My son kept it real by squashing biscuits into her rainbow-streaked floor. It was so different to what I imagined wearing – there was so much more fabric, I was much more covered – but it was exactly right. I felt like me, but a superlative version. I didn’t want to take it off.
Three fittings later, we talked about accessories. Zandra’s whip-smart assistant Jordan suggested I consider Elsa Peretti jewellery. Elsa and Zandra rose up at similar periods, and were part of the same New York Seventies fashion scene; it felt like a great match. Tiffany, who exclusively sells Elsa Perretti’s sculptural, distinctive pieces, agreed to lend me a necklace – a gold open-topped bottle pendant, an excellent complement to my lily-covered gown. For a bag, I chose an ivory-coloured stone drop design by Stone & Mason, which was big enough enough to fit my phone and came with a jade roller ideal for depuffing the morning after. When it came to shoes, I wanted something chunky to offset the lightness and femininity of the dress – Terry de Havilland’s gold rock 'n' roll infused platforms were just the ticket. Zandra and I talked about veils, but – after both agreeing that I was far from a blushing bride – she put me in touch with acclaimed milliner Piers Atkinson. Piers, who is known for making avant-garde headwear for Lady Gaga and Rihanna, very generously and skilfully created a subtle, intricate headpiece made using millinery veiling, crystals, sequins and printed organza that matched my dress. Without sounding like a cliché, I felt like Cinderella.
When it came to the day of the wedding in Sicily, Zandra insisted on coming to dress me. She correctly judged that I wouldn’t be able to use an iron to her standards, so did it herself. My family, Zandra, her friend Marjorie and I shared arancini round a big Italian table before we walked to the eternally beautiful Palazzo Biscari, where the ceremony and reception was held.
Strolling through the streets of my favourite city with my family into a courtyard I know so well to marry the man I love was truly the happiest I’ve ever been. I am sure I will have even happier moments ahead, but it’s good to acknowledge joy whenever it gives itself to you so fully. As for the dress, it came alive that day – all clothes need people to give them life, but ZR pieces are designed for movement. It’s very hard not to dance in Zandra’s dresses – they are made for spinning, those sleeves are designed for big movements and big moments. They are made for fun, as proven by the Prosecco that may or may not have been spilt on it in the early hours of the morning as my guests and I spun and shimmied around the dance floor. We gave those fresco ceilings quite a spectacle that evening (I’m not sure UK garage or Take That have ever been played in those historic rooms before).
I know not everyone has a fashion designer friend to lean on when it comes to their wedding dress, and I am one privileged and grateful newlywed. But what every bride does have access to on their wedding day is a look that makes them want to twirl. Aim for that, and you won’t go wrong.
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