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My Mother's Wedding Dress: The Life and Afterlife of Clothes
A wonderfully evocative memoir about what we wear - that goes far more than skin deep
335 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 2006
11 people are currently reading
196 people want to read
About the author
Justine Picardie
26 books117 followersJustine Picardie is a British novelist, fashion writer and biographer. She is the editor-in-chief of Harper's Bazaar UK and Town & Country UK. Her 2010 biography of Coco Chanel (“Coco Chanel: The Legend & the Life”) was shortlisted for the Galaxy National Book Awards.
Her eldest son is Jamie MacColl, the guitarist for Bombay Bicycle Club.
Ruth Picardie was her sister.
Her eldest son is Jamie MacColl, the guitarist for Bombay Bicycle Club.
Ruth Picardie was her sister.
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 29 reviews
July 26, 2015
Some very moving reflections in this book, which I read most of somewhere (quite possibly a bookshop) and then lost, but longed for long afterwards because it was so compelling. Giving it 4 stars on trust until I find it and skim it again
October 18, 2022
An interesting mix of personal and fashion history. Picardie is a great writer who can weave up an engaging narrative for the reader.
August 31, 2017
Enjoyable reflective book, probably a 3.5 really. It is a bit bitty and you could dip in and out of it although I read it more or less straight through. Justine Picardie is a fashion editor, and there is quite a bit about the fashion industry in this, but there are also memories of clothes in the past, and family history, some of it a bit inconclusive. The wedding dress of the title was a black cocktail dress, and somehow it eventually disappeared. Loss is one of the themes of the book, particularly the death of the author's sister Ruth. There is some unevenness between the personal stories, the literary stories, and the stories about fashion interviews (I think publishing in this form must be a way in which the bits which couldn"t go into the PR controlled interviews could come out! )
April 10, 2009
A disappointing and uninteresting read. Although Picardie attempts to embellish us with recollections of clothing and the meaning of that clothing in her life, it stops short of the mark.
I found the whole novel rather boring and mundane. However, given the inside look at the fashion industry and Picardie's somewhat funny and quirky lists such as: "Cocking a Snook" and "How To Wear Red Lipstick"; I would recommend this novel for person's of the higher fashion industry who can appreciate the history, feeling and eschalance of our daily dress. Someone who can perceive and appreciate the physical, tactile and emotional sensations of our daily dress.
I found the whole novel rather boring and mundane. However, given the inside look at the fashion industry and Picardie's somewhat funny and quirky lists such as: "Cocking a Snook" and "How To Wear Red Lipstick"; I would recommend this novel for person's of the higher fashion industry who can appreciate the history, feeling and eschalance of our daily dress. Someone who can perceive and appreciate the physical, tactile and emotional sensations of our daily dress.
November 7, 2019
Some people have commented that this book is 'shallow' and, it probably is, because it is a book about clothes. Why we wear them, why we choose some colours over others, what they mean to us and how a particular item of clothing sometimes takes on a life and story of its own. We associate emotions with clothes, we remember people through the clothes they wore and which we may keep after their passing for sentimental reasons. This book explores our fascination, or lack of it, with clothes and the connection between clothes and literature.
Woven into this narrative are many personal glimpses into Picardie’s life and family and her encounters with designers such as Donatella Versace and Karl Lagerfeld.
This book has its faults, like too many parentheses and over-long ones at that, and there are a couple of chapters that go into too much unnecessary detail but, overall, I really enjoyed reading it.
Woven into this narrative are many personal glimpses into Picardie’s life and family and her encounters with designers such as Donatella Versace and Karl Lagerfeld.
This book has its faults, like too many parentheses and over-long ones at that, and there are a couple of chapters that go into too much unnecessary detail but, overall, I really enjoyed reading it.
August 4, 2025
Delightful reflections on clothes and the memories they hold. Picardie draws upon various sources, historical and contemporary (at least when this was first published). The most potent sections are based on interviews with fashion leaders. Although ancestral stories are weaved into the text well, I feel the Brontë ring story is the weakest. I did enjoy learning more about the Black Sash, a group I was previously unaware of. From activism to fashion drama, there is something for everyone here.
Read
December 17, 2010My mother’s wedding dress, the one she wore when she married my father, hangs in my closet, It is a creamy yellow-white, off the shoulders with a friendly young lace around the arms. It’s almost as though it was made for a sweet sixteen or southern cotillion, some tradition naïve and long since frown out of. I’m not sure what to do with my mother’s wedding dress, or with Justine Picardie’s book of the same name. Both share a dilemma that makes it difficult to determine whether they’re treasures or trash. Both take up space with an irrelevance that is unable to effect the heart-hurt which prevents me from dealing with them promptly and pragmatically.
Justine Picardie, author of this flimsy, fascinating non-fiction, is also a columnist, novelist, and formerly the features editor of British Vogue. My Mother’s Wedding Dress, the book, hangs with the pomp that frequently irritates me in mainstream fashion magazines like Vogue, and is a reason I don’t read them much. Often, it’s the suffocating sound of timelessness, ritual, and deep solemn value draped around expensive and exclusive commercial culture that bugs and alienates me. Fortunately Picardie’s book about her mother’s short black wedding dress and other frocks and accessories from life, fiction, and history also crackles sweetly with sincerity and a frequently winning sense of humour.
It’s difficult to critique her for giving in to the sense that clothes haunt our conscious and unconscious memories. Clothes are there when the fire is lit, when the marriage goes under, when the rebellion starts. This writer can’t seem to escape the paradox that while they are not important at all, they are crucial at the same time.
My own mother’s wedding dress, her first, may just be a sad dusty remnant of a failed youthful love, or it might be an anchor to my own existence: I am the one good thing that relationship wrought, they agree. So maybe I keep the dress alongside stacks of other memorable unwearables out of loyalty? There is certainly no logic to the closet space I let it take up, except as evidence in defense of my own life’s worth against all the anger and embarrassment of two kids who married and divorced before they finished college, with a baby left between them when the dust settled. This dress agrees that yes, there are no mistakes; yes, yes, it was all for the best. It’s these tangents of self-in-clothes that this book is about, and if you don’t need more, it’s enough. Unless it isn’t.
Other reviewers have very accurately pointed out that the research in this volume is slim at best. If she had wanted more information, that information was available. She could have gone to find it. Rather, she wanders, deliberately bemused and questioning, in order to keep the book full of missing, lost, and unknown things. Some reviewers, writers who share Worn’s passion for facts and serious research into fashion, have even called the book disgraceful. And it does do a disservice to fibre and fashion history by not stretching for perspectives beyond the bubble of the author’s personal experience. Her world is one in which politics, history, and facts all bend and reflect against the surface of oneself, rather than extending and triangulating outward to give us a truer sense of the shapes of things. But still. There is another kind of value here, and every time I delve into the book to find the bits that bothered me, I find I am also drawn into things that don’t quite connect, but resonate.
The references traces of clothes in literature, not-quite reflections of her most personal and painful experiences, and then foils them at the end of each chapter with odd, funny, poignant lists about fashion. These dos and don’ts are as subjective and personalized as the rest of the story; (ir)relevant, enjoyable, occasionally irritatingly frivolous but completely relatable. This sense of relation, of being related to a stranger encountered in text, is the positive side of the bubbly subject effect, and maybe writing that aims for this and achieves it shouldn’t be critiqued for not being something else. The book is as silly as a dress, an emotional matrix that’s far from an objective analysis of anything. For lovers of editorial and first person narrative, and the true, painful, artful lives of “great” designers and models, this book will be an indulgent pleasure. It’s not a comprehensive anything but, instead, offers many little vents and slits and windows into the questions and worlds that inhabit our clothing.
Picardie’s book is not good historical materialism. It’s not good research, or concrete theory either, but it makes sense to me. It is about doubt rather than proof. It is a kind of trauma writing, suggesting again and again that whole worlds might exist beyond reason, hard facts, and rational lines. Picardie wants this badly enough to leave the edges of her thought raw and unfinished, and reaches for it as she reachers for her sister, her mother, all the people who have died or grown up and made life sometimes seem a little sad and empty in their passing, like a uniform discarded… Or my mother’s wedding dress.(reviewed by Risa Dickens)
Justine Picardie, author of this flimsy, fascinating non-fiction, is also a columnist, novelist, and formerly the features editor of British Vogue. My Mother’s Wedding Dress, the book, hangs with the pomp that frequently irritates me in mainstream fashion magazines like Vogue, and is a reason I don’t read them much. Often, it’s the suffocating sound of timelessness, ritual, and deep solemn value draped around expensive and exclusive commercial culture that bugs and alienates me. Fortunately Picardie’s book about her mother’s short black wedding dress and other frocks and accessories from life, fiction, and history also crackles sweetly with sincerity and a frequently winning sense of humour.
It’s difficult to critique her for giving in to the sense that clothes haunt our conscious and unconscious memories. Clothes are there when the fire is lit, when the marriage goes under, when the rebellion starts. This writer can’t seem to escape the paradox that while they are not important at all, they are crucial at the same time.
My own mother’s wedding dress, her first, may just be a sad dusty remnant of a failed youthful love, or it might be an anchor to my own existence: I am the one good thing that relationship wrought, they agree. So maybe I keep the dress alongside stacks of other memorable unwearables out of loyalty? There is certainly no logic to the closet space I let it take up, except as evidence in defense of my own life’s worth against all the anger and embarrassment of two kids who married and divorced before they finished college, with a baby left between them when the dust settled. This dress agrees that yes, there are no mistakes; yes, yes, it was all for the best. It’s these tangents of self-in-clothes that this book is about, and if you don’t need more, it’s enough. Unless it isn’t.
Other reviewers have very accurately pointed out that the research in this volume is slim at best. If she had wanted more information, that information was available. She could have gone to find it. Rather, she wanders, deliberately bemused and questioning, in order to keep the book full of missing, lost, and unknown things. Some reviewers, writers who share Worn’s passion for facts and serious research into fashion, have even called the book disgraceful. And it does do a disservice to fibre and fashion history by not stretching for perspectives beyond the bubble of the author’s personal experience. Her world is one in which politics, history, and facts all bend and reflect against the surface of oneself, rather than extending and triangulating outward to give us a truer sense of the shapes of things. But still. There is another kind of value here, and every time I delve into the book to find the bits that bothered me, I find I am also drawn into things that don’t quite connect, but resonate.
The references traces of clothes in literature, not-quite reflections of her most personal and painful experiences, and then foils them at the end of each chapter with odd, funny, poignant lists about fashion. These dos and don’ts are as subjective and personalized as the rest of the story; (ir)relevant, enjoyable, occasionally irritatingly frivolous but completely relatable. This sense of relation, of being related to a stranger encountered in text, is the positive side of the bubbly subject effect, and maybe writing that aims for this and achieves it shouldn’t be critiqued for not being something else. The book is as silly as a dress, an emotional matrix that’s far from an objective analysis of anything. For lovers of editorial and first person narrative, and the true, painful, artful lives of “great” designers and models, this book will be an indulgent pleasure. It’s not a comprehensive anything but, instead, offers many little vents and slits and windows into the questions and worlds that inhabit our clothing.
Picardie’s book is not good historical materialism. It’s not good research, or concrete theory either, but it makes sense to me. It is about doubt rather than proof. It is a kind of trauma writing, suggesting again and again that whole worlds might exist beyond reason, hard facts, and rational lines. Picardie wants this badly enough to leave the edges of her thought raw and unfinished, and reaches for it as she reachers for her sister, her mother, all the people who have died or grown up and made life sometimes seem a little sad and empty in their passing, like a uniform discarded… Or my mother’s wedding dress.(reviewed by Risa Dickens)
September 3, 2019
Nice premise, but it all seemed very self indulgent and I gave up.
June 25, 2022
I really enjoyed this but Picardie needs to seriously reduce her use of parentheses!
May 1, 2011
The subtitle of this book drew me to it immediately: The Life and Afterlife of Clothes. Luckily I was looking through book titles in a list, not covers in a book store, because its pastel pink and blue looks like boring Chick Lit, and the fashion illustration is not one I find alluring–something is off in the pose of the woman, and you can’t see any detail on the dress. I learned my lesson not to read a book by its cover with Linda Grant’s
The Thoughtful Dresser (a simple mannequin in a paper dress on a red background, not too brainy nor breezy), which did not live up to my expectations. This book is, quite frankly, what I expected that book to be: interesting and lovely.
Justine Picardie is confident of her extensive knowledge of fashion today, including designers, themes, infrastructure, attitudes and history. Somehow, though, she has managed to take the best of that impressive experience and stay human at the same time. She doesn’t drop names, she mentions fascinating individuals in the context they belong in (whether Karl Lagerfeld or a curator at a small museum). There are no between-the-lines assumptions of the reader’s wardrobe, only of a shared affinity for clothing and their meaning. I imagine her in a cafe, one moment meeting with the editor of Elle, the next, asking the barista where she found her vintage earrings.
The pieces of this book that pull it into the memoir realm are deeply personal and wonderfully nostalgic. Many chapters discuss the death of her adult sister, flitting back and forth to clothes the two wore as children, traded as college students, and passed between one another in her sister’s final year. Some sections dig for clothes in classic literature, the author’s career, her family’s genealogy, or English history. We all have a spiderweb of clothes memories, each wisp made of an era, a place, a relationship. The tails of that web lead off to cultural associations, heirlooms, movies and books, and Picardie has pulled many of hers together here.
The only bump of a chapter, a bit out of place, is on an interview with Donatella Versace. While it’s a good story, it feels as if it could be thrown into any glossy magazine, but instead landed here. The chapter that will stick with me the most is certainly one that quotes letters between Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald. I actually may have to read them, since Zelda evidently regularly wrote things like this, before Christmas:
“Your closet is full of lovely silver packages. It looks so sad to see your clothes getting dusty on their hangers…if you come back…I will let you play with my pistol and you can win every golf game and I will make you a new suit from a blue hydrangea bush and shoes from pecan-shells and I’ll sew you a belt from leaves from maps of the world and you can always be the one that’s perfect.”
That is the sort of thing Picardie delighted me with on these pages. She didn’t say anything revolutionary about fashion. She didn’t analyze all that much, or declare. She just told me stories of clothes in her life, on her back, in her books, in her family. And while I sometimes do enjoy declaring and analyzing a bit further than that, it is stories like these that leave lasting meaning. Just as the stories in my own clothes do.
The Thoughtful Dresser (a simple mannequin in a paper dress on a red background, not too brainy nor breezy), which did not live up to my expectations. This book is, quite frankly, what I expected that book to be: interesting and lovely.
Justine Picardie is confident of her extensive knowledge of fashion today, including designers, themes, infrastructure, attitudes and history. Somehow, though, she has managed to take the best of that impressive experience and stay human at the same time. She doesn’t drop names, she mentions fascinating individuals in the context they belong in (whether Karl Lagerfeld or a curator at a small museum). There are no between-the-lines assumptions of the reader’s wardrobe, only of a shared affinity for clothing and their meaning. I imagine her in a cafe, one moment meeting with the editor of Elle, the next, asking the barista where she found her vintage earrings.
The pieces of this book that pull it into the memoir realm are deeply personal and wonderfully nostalgic. Many chapters discuss the death of her adult sister, flitting back and forth to clothes the two wore as children, traded as college students, and passed between one another in her sister’s final year. Some sections dig for clothes in classic literature, the author’s career, her family’s genealogy, or English history. We all have a spiderweb of clothes memories, each wisp made of an era, a place, a relationship. The tails of that web lead off to cultural associations, heirlooms, movies and books, and Picardie has pulled many of hers together here.
The only bump of a chapter, a bit out of place, is on an interview with Donatella Versace. While it’s a good story, it feels as if it could be thrown into any glossy magazine, but instead landed here. The chapter that will stick with me the most is certainly one that quotes letters between Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald. I actually may have to read them, since Zelda evidently regularly wrote things like this, before Christmas:
“Your closet is full of lovely silver packages. It looks so sad to see your clothes getting dusty on their hangers…if you come back…I will let you play with my pistol and you can win every golf game and I will make you a new suit from a blue hydrangea bush and shoes from pecan-shells and I’ll sew you a belt from leaves from maps of the world and you can always be the one that’s perfect.”
That is the sort of thing Picardie delighted me with on these pages. She didn’t say anything revolutionary about fashion. She didn’t analyze all that much, or declare. She just told me stories of clothes in her life, on her back, in her books, in her family. And while I sometimes do enjoy declaring and analyzing a bit further than that, it is stories like these that leave lasting meaning. Just as the stories in my own clothes do.
January 2, 2019
This was a great book to read. It is a very accessible account of the myths surrounding - and the potency of - what we wear. Personal narrative blends into something more journalistic, and the sense of the author's own passion for the subject keeps the book captivating throughout.
Justine Picardie draws from her experience working at Vogue, her knowledge of Victorian literature and her personal memories of clothes, to weave together an engaging and thought-provoking read. Covering everything from a discussion of the significance of white in Charlotte Brontë's depictions of the insane Bertha Mason (Jane Eyre) to a touching account of her difficult interview with Donatella Versace, Picardie manages to connect and discuss the ideas from different realms coherently and fascinatingly.
I would thoroughly recommend this book to anyone who has an interest in clothes.
Justine Picardie draws from her experience working at Vogue, her knowledge of Victorian literature and her personal memories of clothes, to weave together an engaging and thought-provoking read. Covering everything from a discussion of the significance of white in Charlotte Brontë's depictions of the insane Bertha Mason (Jane Eyre) to a touching account of her difficult interview with Donatella Versace, Picardie manages to connect and discuss the ideas from different realms coherently and fascinatingly.
I would thoroughly recommend this book to anyone who has an interest in clothes.
September 10, 2012
This was an interesting and unique memoir on clothes, their history and value (non-monetary) to the person who currently owns/wears it, presented with personal stories and family history. I didn't like how some chapters had extensive summaries on other books & movies in which the plots were recapped in order for the author to make a point about the clothes/fabric/shoes (this bored me). Other chapters went in depth on her family history, insomuch that I would forget the point or the connection the author was trying to make. The chapter on Versace and Ghost Dresses were very moving and the history on the Black Sash political group was intriguing. Parts here and there were captivating and other parts worth skipping over completely. This is the first book I read by Picardie, not sure if I'll pick up another, especially if other works contain as much rambling.
August 27, 2012
An oddly bitty book. I enjoyed some individual sections and end-of-chapter lists, but found paragraph-long parentheses rather wearing. I know I speak like that - and would write like it given the chance - so that is probably just a case of hating my own fault when I see it in another. The part that will stick in my mind is Erin O'Connor's story of catwalk torture rather than any of the never quite resolved explorations of family history inspired by an item of clothing or jewellery, or the descriptions of interviews that read like the bits that didn't quite make it into the article she was writing at the time.
Diana Athill does reflective musing much better.
Diana Athill does reflective musing much better.
May 29, 2007
This is a beautiful book written by a fashion editor from British Vogue. I picked it up while I was in London last year, thinking that it was going to be a light read about the fabulous clothes she wore, but boy was i wrong. It turned out to be about a woman's journey through life and relationships with the clothes in her closet triggering the memories and the adventures. This is a collection of essays, and each one ranges from sentimental to a ghost story. Don't get me wrong, The clothes she describes are fabulous, but so is this book.
August 22, 2010
I have read another short story book by Justine Picardie, a compilation called Truth or Dare; this book caught my eye due to her name and captured my interest. Definitely worth reading if you're interested in fashion or memoirs, as this is also a story of family history. If you pay attention to clothes, they can meaningfully affect you; Picardie captures her emotions and ties them to a lost-and-found list of clothes, with almost jealousy-enducing success.
Not my FAVORITE book, but well worth the time to read through. Plus, short stories are a busy person's best friend.
Not my FAVORITE book, but well worth the time to read through. Plus, short stories are a busy person's best friend.
June 1, 2011
3.5 stars.
Though the cover and title makes this look like chick-lit, it's actually a memoir of sorts; poignant, beautiful musings on how objects (clothes, mainly) anchor us to our pasts and the pasts of our ancestors, and also an exploration of the significance of certain clothing and accessories of literature and of their authors too.
As in most nonfiction books where each chapter is essentially an essay, there were some parts I loved and others that didn't excite me as much. Overall a most worthwhile read, even as someone who doesn't give fashion much thought.
Though the cover and title makes this look like chick-lit, it's actually a memoir of sorts; poignant, beautiful musings on how objects (clothes, mainly) anchor us to our pasts and the pasts of our ancestors, and also an exploration of the significance of certain clothing and accessories of literature and of their authors too.
As in most nonfiction books where each chapter is essentially an essay, there were some parts I loved and others that didn't excite me as much. Overall a most worthwhile read, even as someone who doesn't give fashion much thought.
September 16, 2009
It's more than just a memior of the fashion that shapes Picardie's memories, it's about fashion in literature and its place in identity. The rich detail of the people and clothing allows characters to leap off the pages, where you can smell the Chanel and hear the rustling of silk.
Bella's Sweater is probably one of my favorite chapters in the book. Kudos to the rules listed therein.
It loses a star for some of the lengthier, more boring passages.
Bella's Sweater is probably one of my favorite chapters in the book. Kudos to the rules listed therein.
It loses a star for some of the lengthier, more boring passages.
May 24, 2014
An intriguing concept with an uneven execution. Of course, many women feel that certain items of clothing have more importance than others, and Picardie's investigation into the meanings wrapped up within these items is certainly worthy. However, it's difficult to feel that she didn't have quite enough stories to really flesh this volume out, and as a result some sections are much stronger than others. Nevertheless an enjoyable look through the portable psychology of one woman's life.
January 21, 2016
As someone who can remember clothing from when I was 4 till now at 68 - i can relate to this book so much. At 4 it was a white pique with red organdie. At 19 it was a navy suit with a cream vining flower pattern. I remember my hippie clothes, the tailored navy dress, my lace wedding dress, black business suits, a glorious tartan tiered skirted dress....
The memories just thinking about these clothes are so precious.
The memories just thinking about these clothes are so precious.
July 5, 2010
Growing up I wanted to be a fashion designer, I spent hours designing dresses and outfits. My favorite thing to design idea wise was a wedding dress.
This was a cool journey through clothes. I could have enjoyed it more, it dragged in spots, but I liked it.
This was a cool journey through clothes. I could have enjoyed it more, it dragged in spots, but I liked it.
February 9, 2012
I picked this one up because it sounded interesting. I have always had a fascination with the fashion industry and I thought that the idea of why clothes are so important to us and memory. I really enjoyed this one.
July 27, 2012
Lovely read- if you like family, clothes, literature, memoir...all tied together and beautifully written. She really knows both her fashion and her literature - and how memories can be hinged to clothes-object , much like food or sense of place, maybe more so.
September 3, 2012
Part ruminations on clothes she/her mother/her sister used to own, part random stories, and part literary critiques, this was a random mishmash to me. It spoiled a lot of books I haven't read and flowed really awkwardly. Not a fan.
January 7, 2008
It's just generally very enticing. It's feminine without being profusely girly or whatever, and it has strong family roots as well as amazing dresses =)
Want to read
July 8, 2015July 2015: not available on audio at Mechanics' Institute
September 15, 2008
It was a really interesting book about clothing... I think you'll enjoy it if you enjoy clothes. Only one part is about a wedding dress... it's more comments in general on the meaning of clothing.
May 13, 2010
You don't need to be clothes or Vogue obsessed to enjoy this book. As a self confessed non shopper I took great pleasure from reading the memories and histories various items of clothing evoked.
June 6, 2021
Rereading this again after many years. It’s still reads like a set of Vogue articles but her writing is faultless.
April 28, 2017
I found parts of this book to be very interesting and engaging; but by about page 80, I was done. I went ahead and finished, though I will admit to skimming here and there. The author shares her thoughts on how clothing has impacted her personal life, as well as gives commentary regarding the clothing or accessories of famous figures in history. I especially enjoyed the plethora of literary history sprinkled throughout, but the parts regarding fashion houses, as well as some parts regarding random past ancestors, became boring after a short time. There was a lot of name dropping that the average reader wouldn't relate to much. I really enjoyed the chapters devoted to the Brontes.
Displaying 1 - 29 of 29 reviews