In the bridal atelier the mother, a divorcée bride, leads her daughter into this rite of passage. 

She shares her impedimenta, gathered in preparation to enter into the sacred pact of matrimony. 

 

The paraphernalia has been carefully crafted from personal and family heirlooms,

words of wisdom, and her own regrets - cemented into bound Volumes of Vows.

 

So as not to stumble on her own words, the new bride is offered a pedestal, a pouf

resembling a wedding cake and encrusted with a paste made from the same journal

excerpts that compose the long train of the removable skirt. 

With this accessory she can be her own cake-topper and have a full view of the aisle that

lay ahead of her before she walks to face her partner.  

 

On her head she will wear a Veil of Vows which partially obscures her view in this leap of faith.

Between the folds read promises to the self: 

 

I do …  I do …  I will  …  I will not …

I will not repeat my mistakes 

I will not overwrite my experience 

I will not paper over my feelings 

I do …  I do …  I will  …  

practice,  practice,  practice 

I’m getting good at this.