Back The Wedding Dress Maker
Chapters (60)
  1. The Wedding Dress Maker
  2. Also by Leah Fleming
  3. The Wedding Dress Maker
  4. Copyright Page
  5. Dedication
  6. Contents
  7. 1
  8. A Wednesday Afternoon in May 1949
  9. Early on Friday Morning
  10. September 1937
  11. May 1949, Friday
  12. September 1939
  13. May 1949, Friday
  14. Dressing Miss Forsyth, June 1942
  15. May 1949, Friday
  16. 2
  17. Rae, 1944
  18. Summer 1944
  19. May 1949, Friday
  20. August 1944
  21. May 1949, Friday
  22. Ten Days in March 1945
  23. On The Tenth Day, 1945
  24. May 1949, Friday at Noon
  25. Park Royal, Spring 1945
  26. May 1949, Saturday Morning
  27. 3
  28. Snapshots from The Royal, 1945
  29. May 1949, Saturday Morning
  30. Hogmanay, 1945
  31. A Secret Outing
  32. Saturday, Midday on Shap Fell, 1949
  33. 4
  34. February 1946
  35. Nothing To Write Home About, March 1946
  36. Homeward Bound, July 1946
  37. Saturday Afternoon in Kendal, 1949
  38. 5
  39. In the Winter of 1947
  40. The Texas Rangers, Autumn 1947
  41. Spring 1948
  42. Saturday Teatime in Kendal, 1949
  43. 6
  44. Dancing on the Green, Summer 1948
  45. Showdown
  46. Christmas 1948
  47. Window Shopping in Kendal, May 1949
  48. 7
  49. Into 1949
  50. Forks in the Path, March 1949
  51. Late Afternoon in Kendal, May 1949
  52. 8
  53. The Same Saturday Afternoon at Brigg Farm
  54. Staying On, June 1949
  55. 9
  56. Back to Griseley, June 1949
  57. On Carrick Sands, September 1949
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. Author the Author
  60. An Invitation from the Publisher

Vida shook her head vehemently. ‘She’s right, it’s time for you to move on from the factory floor but not to this, girl, sewing up dresses for millgirls. It suits me for the moment, I’ve seen the big time and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. But you need experience of the better end of the market first, where the real money is to be made – the carriage trade in Harrogate or Ilkley. Get yourself some experience there in retail fashion, get to know your customers and what they want.

‘Arnie and I were only thinking the other day that when the coupons go there’ll be such a rush for decent clothes and new ideas. Everyone’s so fed up with threadbare suits and coats. The garment factories will be spinning for years, just wait and see.’

‘But I don’t want to make utility clothes. I want to make the stuff of dreams and glamour and hope for the future… beautiful gowns, couture concoctions with yards of material, all flounces and furbelows, silks and satins, buttons and bows…’ Netta had slumped over the table for the brandy had gone to her speech as well as her knees. ‘I want to make Cinderellas into princesses not pumpkins. How can I do that with ration books under my nose?’

‘I know warehouse garments are like gold dust, expensive to buy and scarce to order with all the restrictions on purchase and export, but where money dwells there’s always a way round restrictions, believe me. You’ll just have to be patient, one step at a time. Learn your trade in a quality retail establishment, that’s a start. Look in the Post, smarten yourself up and go for interviews. See what comes up.’

‘But if I made a simple collection of unusual gowns and hired them out together: Scarlett O’Hara ballgowns and Bette Davis cocktail and party frocks?’ Netta was carried away with her ideas, already in the realms of fantasy. It was Vida who splashed cold water on her dream.

‘Not so fast, love, keep it simple and safe. Think big ideas, yes… just start slowly, focus on finding the right clientele. Who would want such stuff round here? Where would you get the capital outlay for materials, workshop equipment and saleroom hire as well as advertising? I’m sure I could get you wholesale on materials and I could give you a hand with the sewing sometimes. It’s a grand idea making dresses for Yorkshire princesses but hold yer sweat and start off at the bottom with the top people. That’s my advice for what it’s worth.’ Mrs Bloom paused. ‘Have you seen Arnie lately? He’s behaving very oddly. I don’t like the look of him.’

‘Perhaps he’s sickening for something,’ muttered Netta, stifling a smile. Vida Bloom looked wearily at her over her glasses.