I knew I could never get married in a dress. I always wanted to wear a skirt suit. My mother wore it to a small wedding in Boston in 1978, so I wanted to wear it too.
After getting engaged two years ago, I immediately decided that my wedding dress ensemble would be designed by Svitlana Bevza of the Kiev brand Bevza. I first met her when I went to Ukraine Fashion Week in 2015 and ever since then she has been my go-to designer. During our initial discussion on WhatsApp, I accidentally mentioned that I wanted to incorporate my mom’s crisp, bold shoulders in Scarface with Michelle Pfeiffer’s white skirt suit, but… we had to make the skirt too long. I am having an Orthodox Jewish wedding officiated by the lovely Rabbi Rodkin of Brighton, MA, whom I worked for during my summers in college.
Although no one explicitly told me I had to dress appropriately for a wedding, my mind was trained to think I should. I covered my hands and knees while working at Rodkin’s camps and schools over the summer. This was my first office job and it was refreshing to learn about the deeper meaning behind workplace dress codes and later Jewish modesty. I still cover myself whenever I enter a religious space or event venue. A wedding steeped in ancient traditions would be no different and I planned to incorporate a fully covered love interest into my look.
No problem. Bevaza’s designs have an effortless beauty and elegance. She would be the perfect woman to wear this look. On a cool night in May, Bevaza was in town for the Met Gala and had dinner with me at the casino. She took my measurements in the middle of a crowded restaurant – including my bust! – then wrote the numbers on a piece of paper. Over the next few months, she worked with a team in Kiev to create the skirt suit.
Belvaza and her team work in dangerous conditions. (Ever since Russia invaded Ukraine, alarms have been sounding and bombs have been falling on the nation’s capital — yet, her team continues to work.) Honestly, I doubt this dress will make it to the U.S.: traveling to Ukraine, mailing is very difficult too. Ultimately, the dress arrived via the Ukrainian postal service two weeks before the wedding. I wore it and it fit perfectly. Bevozar instinctively knows how to cinch the waist and really accentuate the bust.
My heart began to beat faster as I realized there was another factor we had to deal with: the complacency factor. Well, I couldn’t stay under the caravan while I was out. So I went uptown to meet Ornella Flamuri to add a touch of sanctity to this piece. For those who don’t know, Ornella is a namesake: this Albanian is New York City’s top tailor, and her whole family has a My Cousin Vinny-esque lineage when it comes to the art of adjusting clothes. (Her sister, mother, grandmother, etc.) Ornella suggested there should be a panel to cover the collarbone. My friend and former colleague Annie Choi (now a top bridal stylist) and I went to Mood Fabrics to find fabric colors that matched the dress. The idea worked: Ornella fastened tiny snaps to the sides of the dress along the V-neck opening, then fastened the panels to the dress to create a pleasing, dignified drape.
When I finished changing my clothes, I was reminded of the final major garment step in a Jewish wedding: the veil. It’s the most talked-about part of Old Testament history! Rebecca wore a veil when she married Isaac, and of course Jacob married Leah thinking she was Rachel – alas, he couldn’t tell because she had her face covered with a thick cloth.
But I digress. The veil could also be a sheet. It could also be a tissue. Anyway, I needed a piece of fabric to cover my face — and I immediately thought of Batsheva Hay. In her wedding photos, Hay is wearing a thick fabric veil, which she told me was her grandmother’s tablecloth. But there were no boob pieces for me. I went back to Mood Fabrics with Choi and she helped me find the material to make the perfect veil for Hay. The dress is smooth satin, so why not go the totally over-the-top, jewel-adorned milieu route? I bought the crystal-embroidered fabric and brought it to Hay’s Midtown office. There, she and a team member made the piece by cutting and gluing mesh onto it so it wouldn’t slip off my head.
After the ceremony, I removed the paneling and put on my jewelry: an ’80s pearl necklace, ring, and earring set from my mom, and a natural pearl necklace from my mother-in-law. (According to Ashkenazi Jewish tradition, the bride does not wear jewelry during the ceremony.) While removing the panel feels like a minor change to the look, the skirt suit looks completely different without this tiny piece of fabric–dare I say yes. No clothes change required. In fact, the only thing you wear all the time? Cream pumps by one of the greatest shoe designers, Stuart Weitzman.
