It is at such times as your daughter’s wedding that you discover designers you had no idea existed and realise how much happier you were before you knew they existed.

The very idea of Mother-of-the-Bride seems to direct such designers to come up with vivid colour, garish patterns, shiny fabric, feathers, frills and extremely large hats… (a bit anti-social for those forced to sit behind you, don’t you think?)
Why?

Now, if I were a twig, which I ain’t, maybe one or two of these furbelows and ruffle-trimmed items might look half good – or not. Not is my best guess.

How did I manage when my son got married?
Well, that was easy, actually. Sons always want their mothers to look like mum/moms, and mine in particular prefers me to look as if a naughty thought has never entered my head. Hmm.
So, dressing for his wedding was easy – a trip to Armani and a sharply tailored suit – in a pretty embossed silk, I have to say, though plain ivory – no patterns allowed, of course. I did manage a bit of outrageous road kill on my head, though ;-O

But I am now forbidden anything that remotely resembles an office get-up – i.e. tailored suit.
And, btw, as if anyone in their right mind would allow me within a mile of an office – but that’s another story!

Something feminine, mummy, says Wiggy, who is directing the show –
Moi in satin and lace? I don’t think so!

More to follow – if I can stand the strain

Have a good one, ladies – with narry a big ‘at in sight!

Sxxx