Monday September 13th:

After a meeting at the Irish Theatre Institute and a lot of shopping in the city centre, we went to the airport and flew back to Paris. Ninon and I had decided that I would take the dress first. So I took it home with me. The first thing I did when I arrived is taking it out of my luggage and your envelope. I laid it down on my bed so she could rest a little after the long journey. Then I went to bed and I thought it would be cool if she had some time to meet my own dresses. So I left her in my cupboard for the night so she could chat, gossip and have fun with the others!

It sounds too cold for me to use “it” because that whole week felt as if I had a friend with me. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to use “she”.

Tuesday September 14th:

That day I decided to take the dress to work with me. I couldn’t wear it because it was too large for me. So I simply put it on the heater behind my desk. I didn’t say anything to anyone but some of my
colleagues asked me about her. What is it? Why is it here? So this is how I told everything about your project and how I loved it! The perfect advertising!
Then I wanted to take pictures with her so I asked one of my colleagues to come with me and take the
pictures. This is where I have to explain where I work: the thing is I’m working in a big national theatre which happens to be situated within an old palace, facing the Eiffel Tour… If you want to know more you
can visit the website www.theatre-chaillot.fr (now I’m doing my advertising!). What I’m trying to explain here is that there where plenty of beautiful pictures I could take! So my colleague and I went to the hall where spectators gather and have drinks before the shows at night, I changed and I asked her to shoot.
The first one didn’t really work because the sun was facing us but I decided to keep it because I thought
it was beautiful anyway. Then I sat on a chair, and I don’t know why, now I think that the picture looks sad. Don’t you think? But I like it though. There were people working around. There was a meeting at
the other side of the hall and technicians were running all over the place, preparing things for that night’s show. I tried to be as discrete as possible and actually wanted to be quick! My colleague, her name isBeatrice, so Beatrice asked for one last photo. She really likes painting and colours in general, so shetold me “please let me take one where we can see the colours and the beautiful flowers near the gold
lights so we can see the contrast”. So this is the little story of picture number 6. Then I changed againand went back to work.
Nothing very special happened next. The thing is, that week was very busy. I had a lot of meetings and working nights. The dress then stayed home a few days until I took her with me again, for the week-
end… Very special week-end for me actually. I like that I shared it with her…

Saturday September 18th:

Before starting the story of that day, I should explain to you another story. A few years ago I went to see a play recommended by a friend. I had the most amazing “theatre time” of my life (and god knows how often I am seated in theatres!). The play had been written and directed by the same man: Wajdi Mouawad. I literally fell in love with him that day! I started reading his others play, attended all the performances related to him (written, directed, and played by him or his best friends). Last summer, the Avignon festival programmed what are reckoned his three best plays. They were played during night
time; the three plays in a row. 12 hours of beautiful drama! I was in Avignon then, but I couldn’t manage to find a ticket. So, imagine, when a few months ago (in March), our director announced that Wajdi would be presenting his three plays for the last time at Chaillot in September… I got crazy! Now, I’m not going to tell you about the day I met him and talked to him, or when I attended one of his rehearsals, this could take ages! To sum it up: on Saturday September 18th I went with your dress to see the 12 hours, from 11am to 11 pm. Imagine what a beautiful time we had… During the intervals, I took a few pictures outside with the Eiffel Tour behind, imagining that the flowers on your dress were replacing the fountains and the lawns. I don’t know if I’m allowed to do it but I also got you a picture of the stage at the very end, during applauses when they all said good bye. It was very intense. If you don’t know that writer, I advise you to read these plays: “Littoral”, “Fires”, and “Forests”.

Sunday September 19th:

Another big event that week-end: we were celebrating my nephew’s first birthday! Your dress and I went to the suburb, at my sister’s place where the (almost) whole family was about to gather. Usually, we don’t spend that much time together (I mean with my brother in law’s family), so when it happens there’s a kind of “importance” in the air, and we love it. There’s another reason why that moment was very important for all of us: a year ago on that September 9th of 2009 (9/9/9, lucky combination of numbers some people say…), the birth has been very complicated, something very unusual and dangerous happened to my sister, something that we still don’t explain, which could have led to both the baby’s and my sister’s death… Fortunately doctors are used to dealing with complicated situations nowadays. It all ended well and both are doing very good today.
As I had done in my office I didn’t tell anyone about the dress. I just put it on the sofa waiting for someone to ask about her. The first pictures show you how people started eating, taking pictures next to her, not noticing her… until my brother in law dared ask! He was a little embarrassed to ask (he always fears he might offend me! And I must admit that I am not an easy person, I’m very huffy!). So this is when I told the whole story again. Everyone listened to me, I was impressed! Then everyone wanted to try the dress on! Thomas (my brother in law) first,

then his sister,

Virginie, and last but not least,
Virginie’s daughter Chloe.

The girls were surprised to see how much space there was for boobs, so they decided to stuff the dress with oranges… Then of course the whole attention went back to Lucas (my nephew). We brought him the cake, the gifts and started drinking champagne. Virginie insisted that we take a picture of the dress with the cake and a glass of champagne so that we could show you how she had been a guest like the others.

I’m very excited! A fashion website doo-lally.com are offering a 1000 euro voucher to the person who finds my Mums dress. They also have four tickets to My Life in Dresses at Draíocht to give away, check it out:

www.doo-lally.com

After a successful, sell out run at this years ABSOLUT Fringe, My Life in Dresses is going on tour!!

This tour is kindly Funded by the Arts Council

Dates: 27th-29th Jan. Unfringed Festival, Limerick

http://www.belltable.ie/

3rd-5th Feb. Draíocht, Blanchardstown

http://www.draiocht.ie/events/my_life_in_dresses/

11th Feb. Solstice, Co. Meath

https://solsticeartscentre.ticketsolve.com/shows/126511542/events

16th April, The George Bernard Shaw Theatre, Carlow

http://www.gbshawtheatre.ie/theatre.php?day=16&month=4&year=2011

My Life in Dresses is part oral history, part performance. Its about how we remember things, how we connect with  people and the world around us.

Who will tell the story of your life long after you are gone? Sorcha Kenny believes her dresses will. Sparked by a  fascination for second-hand garments, she  embarked on a journey to uncover the real life stories behind the dresses lingering in wardrobes all over the country. Like photographs, they are mementos of a treasured past. Join Sorcha and her best friend Fiona  as they introduce  you to  her  virtual wardrobe of stories. The walls can’t talk but the dresses sure can.

Be a part  of the project: (Pre Show cup of tea and chat: 1 hour before the performance in the foyer) Sorcha would love to hear the stories behind your dresses. Perhaps its the dress you held onto from your past. The dress you could not give away because it  has a special significance in your  life,  it triggers a memory. Maybe its the one you wore the day you met the love of your life or perhaps it reminds you of a loved one who is no longer here…… or

Get in touch now! mylifeindresses@gmail.com

The next one was taken 3 years later when she was on her honeymoon in Jersey.

Then the last picture was taken over 50 years after the original when I was going to a wedding with my friends in 2008. I’m also wearing a pair of her lace gloves.

It fit me so perfectly and I felt amazing in it all day. I remember feeling so glamorous and I don’t think I’ve felt so good in a dress since. It doesn’t fit me anymore unfortunately but I’ll always keep it because of the sentimental value and because I know it must have been a special dress to my granny to keep it up in her attic for all those years. It was the first vintage dress I ever wore and I haven’t looked back since! I think that pre-loved dresses have a really special quality about them and have so much soul. The show was really brilliant and I loved hearing all of the women’s stories. It was great to be able to go out to something like that with my granny that I knew we’d both enjoy. Thanks again.

by Beth  Hayden

HI Sorcha,

I was at your show last night in project and thought I’d tell you about one of myself and one of my newest acquisitions. I work in the area of Youth Theatre and just moved to Dublin to take over as manager at Dublin Youth Theatre but my first love was costume design and I love clothes, last year my sister and I set up a vintage clothes stall and travelled Ireland on Sundays dressed up in 50′s dresses with leather gloves and hats selling our stuff, we made no money (I couldn’t bear to part with most of my stock) but had a great time.

My blue beaded dress is very special not because of what I’ve done in it, I’ve only worn it once so far but because of the person who sold it in her shop.

I found it in Oxfam on Georges St at Christmas, it fit me like a glove but had some damage and  a lot of staining. I bought it for €25 euro and immediately took it to the dry cleaners next door with the instructions to clean it if they could but to leave it alone if they thought they would damage it further. I waited a nervous week and when I picked it up it was spotless and perfect. I took it home to Limerick with me to wear at our annual Ladies Wot Lunch Christmas dinner. a dinner date my Friends and I have had since we were in college.

It’s blue rough silk, with heavy glass beading all over the shoulders and bust. The beads weigh a lot and it has some wear on one shoulder from where it was hung on a wire hanger I would say. It looks like someone had it on a hanger and that one sleeve was sticking out of the wardrobe. The label is the most fascinating part and inspired me to try and find some information about the dress shop it came from. Its says “Evelyn Bader Cleaveland and Paris”.

I found some information about Evelyn and her father from an great grand niece and some more online in various articles.

“Abraham Bader, 100, godfather of 150 young men and women whom he put through college, died yesterday in his home, 1316 Argonne Road, South Euclid. Mr.
Bader fully expected to reach his 101st birthday in a few weeks, members of his large family said yesterday. His death came unexpectedly.Born in Zahley, Lebanon, Mr. Bader came to the United States in 1879 and settled in Dubois, Pa., where he was a clothing merchant for 42 years.
Life was good to him in this country, he used to say. To show his appreciation and because he loved children he became godfather to 150 and sponsored
their education through the college level.
Mr. Bader came to Cleveland when he retired in 1920. He was an active man, and his retirement from business did not curtail his other activities.
He was a member of St. Eliah’s Catholic church and a member of the church’s council for many years.
Surviving him are his wife, Cecelia, whom he married 69 years ago; three sons, James, Alexander and William;three daughters, Evelyn, owner of the Evelyn
Bader Dress Stores, Jean and Mrs. Blanche Swann, and 10 grandchildren and 14 great grandchildren.”

So Evelyns father was an immigrant from Syria who imported clothes and fabrics and no doubt was behind Evelyns career in Fashion. He also passed on his belief in supporting young people through education because in addition to his “150 young men and women whom he put through college” Evelyn is also sited as having founded the Lebanese-Syrian Junior women’s league in 1929. The League encouraged young immigrant women to become involved in fundraising for poorer migrant families, the encouragement of the Arabic language among young women and in organising various social activities for its members.

I am totally inspired by Evelyn she was an independent business woman and clearly believed in equal rights for women of ethnic origin and worked to promote these causes. Her great niece with whom I got in contact said that she was a famous designer in Cleveland and that her designs were commissioned from all over the world. Which maybe explains why 60 years later on turned up here in Dublin. Anyway so theres the life of my dress and the woman who designed it. There is a picture of me enjoying my dinner in it, that may be the reason it no longer fits!

Regards

Ella Daly

Looking forward to hearing all your dress stories in the bar afterward

SORCHA KENNY as part of ABSOLUT Fringe 2010

presents

My Life In Dresses

Project Arts Centre :: Cube – September 11th – 18th, 2010 at 7pm (Previews Thur 9th & Fri 10th at 7pm)

Advance Booking Required on www.fringefest.com | 1850 FRINGE (1850 374 643) / Tickets €14/€12 (Previews €10) (Performance duration: 50 mins)

‘Presented as a work in progress earlier this year at Project Brand New, Sorcha Kenny’s new work brought the house down. The full production is hotly anticipated.’ Festival Director, Róise Goan

]]> http://mylifeindresses.wordpress.com/2010/09/09/the-performance-has-arrived/feed/ 3 sorchakenny http://mylifeindresses.wordpress.com/2010/09/04/the-lacey-dress-part-7/ http://mylifeindresses.wordpress.com/2010/09/04/the-lacey-dress-part-7/#comments Sat, 04 Sep 2010 08:49:29 +0000 sorchakenny http://mylifeindresses.wordpress.com/?p=657 Continue reading →]]> The Lacey Dress never looked so good as in these stunning photos, part of Aoife  Desmond’s Diary

Day 1

Aniz comes into the studio and gives me the dress. From the second I glimpse the lace and beautiful peach underdress, I get very excited. I feel that I have been given a very special gift. I place the dress over the back of my green studio chair and somehow it looks right there, so right that I have to photograph it on the spot with Aniz’s camera.

The dress seems to act like a promise of beautiful days and nights to come. The dress demands dancing and fun, days and evenings in idyllic settings. It suggests hanging around in old world gardens decadently sipping champagne. It suggests a self forgotten or put aside. Recent days have been darker, dutifully making endless trips to Cork to get the family house ready to sell. Struggling in this expensive city to survive as an artist, striving to keep the artists quest alive. The dress beckons to a lighter way of living.

Day 2, 3 & 4

The dress still sits in the studio, on the back of the chair. Abandoned as I do who knows what, work on job applications perhaps. Guilt sets in I have not kept my promises to the dress.

Day 5

Off to Cork this time for pleasure. The dress is taken home and carefully packed in my travelling bag. Aine drives us down and we stay in my Aunts house. A beautiful grand house about to be rented out. Another farewell. Still not the occasion to wear the dress. We have a lovely evening swim with Seoidín at Myrtleville strand.

Day 6

And now to Skibbereen to the Cork by South West festival to see Bonnie Prince Billy and Martha Wainright. It feels very good to be home, in Cork and West Cork, familiarity surrounding. Bonnie Prince’s album ‘Letting Go’ had seemed very appropriate when clearing the house with so much of the past to let go of, so many memories. Bonnie’s performance is disappointing and odd, but Martha’s is amazing. Will need to see Bonnie another time. I enjoy the festival though. Jenny joins us and she is always good fun. Again familiarity is surrounding, meeting friends and acquaintances of old. Enjoy wandering and catching the smaller acts. Still not the day of the dress.

Day 7

Now or never, it is my last day with the dress. After a poor nights sleep in the grim campsite we have a riverside breakfast and call to Sarah. Hanging out in her lovely cottage with sea views and a full apple tree. James and Ronan are there and Siobhain comes too in her camper van. Shooting the breeze, reading papers etc Jenny and I finally seize the day and go to Lough Eine for a swim. It’s a sea water lake. We spend a while trying to find the perfect place to swim. Big family groups are at the pier, after driving around for a while , I spy a little entrance and steps leading down. Near by an old man is changing by his van. We have found the place. It starts to rain lightly but we go in anyhow. Good to clear the previous evening and week away. It is a beautiful setting, a kingfisher flies by, ferns come down to the waters edge.

I have brought the dress, I change into it and get Jenny to photograph me. In putting on the dress, I immediately feel that I am a more beautiful woman. The dress has a lovely lightness and a sense of occasion. We eventually drive on and join the others in De Barra’s in Clonakilty for a pint and a bit of trad. Sure you’d have to flirt a little in a dress like that.

By Aoife Desmond

S x

Louise, the dress and a holiday romance – August 2010

When I first met the short dress I have to admit I was somewhat underwhelmed. Maybe it was the disappointment that this dress would never fit me. There would be no opportunity to wear the dress and experience a life with it as part of my skin.

I wasn’t particularly taken with the dress aesthetically at first glance. It looked like it had had better days, a more vibrant period of existence. To me the dress had a peasant sense about it, with a subtle beauty which was not at first evident.

However, the more time I spent with the dress, the more ashamed I felt of my initial disappointment on receiving it.

I took the dress on a journey. A family holiday – parents, sister, brother, sister-in-law, three year-old nephew and myself – driving halfway down France to an old farmhouse for two weeks.

First there was the overnight ferry crossing. It was my first time on such a large ferry and sleeping in a cabin felt like quite the novelty (until I tried to sleep that is). The dress was given the honour and respect of being hung in the cabin wardrobe, which can’t be said for the rest of the clothes in my overnight bag. To my nephew’s delight, we were lucky enough to get to go up to the bridge and meet the captain. The crew on the bridge were slightly suspicious of me when I pulled out the dress for a sneaky photo-op. As Oscar Wilde, the namesake of our ferry said: “Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood.”

Our home for two weeks was a beautifully restored, 200 year old farmhouse in the Vendee region of France. When I hung the dress off a vine which had wrapped itself around the stone walls of the farmhouse, it looked instantly at home. The floral, pink and purple hues of the dress matched the rustic French look of everything in sight. I finally understood what my art history lecturers had meant when they spoke about romantic landscapes as I took in my surroundings.

I spent a lot of time by the very inviting swimming pool which accompanied this wonderful converted farmhouse. Normally it wouldn’t be my cup of tea, but it’s been a tough year and a holiday of doing as little as possible was just what the doctor ordered. I took the dress to sunbathe by the pool one day. It didn’t feel quite right but I thought it gave the dress a bit of glamour. The clothes we wear every day are often presented to us on the pages of glossy magazines in fantasy settings. Many of us buy into the dream, seduced by the possibilities that are suggested between the pages.

On one of my few days of action and adventure, Dad and I drove to the ruins of an eleventh-century Romanesque abbey in a nearby town called Maillezais to indulge my passion for architecture and his for history. The scene which greeted us on arrival was breathtaking and there was an overwhelming sense of the lives of the spaces through which we walked. Down in what had been the kitchen of this once-thriving abbey, I thought about those who had toiled away their lives serving those who passed through these walls. It was there, as I placed the dress on the window-sill to take a photo of it, that I thought about the life of the dress. Where had it come from? Who had owned it and why?

We imbue meaning in so many of our belongings and I longed to know what this dress had meant to its previous owners. The clothes we wear can become vivid reminders of our former selves. The yearly peek at my purple polka-dot Debs dress in all its 1950s prom-style glory, always makes me smile, as I remember a time when I was beginning to believe in the strength and legitimacy of my own ideas. (It also reminds me of a time when I was a size 8-10.) More poignantly, the treasured t-shirts that belonged to my now-deceased brother which I have in my possession contain endless stories of his short but vibrant life.

Unexpectedly, the dress became one of my two confidantes (the other was a cat), during our stay in France. I admit that this might make me sound like a crazy lady, but being in the middle of the French countryside with almost no communication with the outside world (thanks to a reception-less phone and limited internet access); and in the company of my lovely family who I’m not used to spending that much time with in such close quarters, meant that the dress, while obviously inanimate, was a kind ear. Anger was unloaded, tears shed and problems solved in the solitary company of the dress.

And so having spent time with this little dress, I now have my own memories of it and its short time in my life. To my sister’s satisfaction, I can now see the beauty of the colour pink thanks to the dress. For me, it’s been a little reminder to never judge a book by its cover. You might miss something wonderful.

Goodbye short dress..

By Louise Dredge