“I’d rather be here with you,” she pouted the night before they left for New York to board the ship. “Besides, what if the boat sinks?”
“It’s not the Titanic, it’s the Paris,” he said with his arms around her, loving her more each day. She was sweet and loving and easy to get along with, intelligent, and surprisingly mature for her age. He couldn’t think of a better woman to marry. “Besides, the Paris doesn’t sink, it just runs aground,” he teased her. The ship had had two embarrassing incidents in the past month. The SS Paris had run aground in New York Harbor and had been stuck for thirty-six hours. And eleven days later, she had run aground again in Cornwall, and was refloated two hours later. It wasn’t reassuring. She was a fabulously luxurious ship though, as Louise and Eleanor had experienced the year before when they’d gone to Paris for Eleanor’s debut dress. This time, their mission was infinitely more important. Louise wanted to order her the most spectacular wedding dress they could find, and Charles was fully in agreement, whatever the cost. They wanted the marriage to be the wedding of the century, and Alex was touched by all the fuss they were making. It was all even grander than his previous engagement had been.
Alex and Charles saw them off on the train to Chicago, where they would change trains to New York. Wilson was going with them. Louise had told her to take a few days to visit her family in Ireland while they were in Paris, as she had the year before too.
Eleanor’s mood improved slightly once they left the station. They had a mission to accomplish and Alex had promised to write to her while she was away. She treated the trip to Paris more like a punishment than a pleasure, having to be away from Alex for so long. She cheered up considerably once they were in New York and visited her mother’s cousins. When they were on the ship, the excitement of what they were doing finally caught up with her, and she began looking seriously at all the magazine clippings her mother had brought with them.
They were considering several designers this time. Louise felt that Jean-Charles Worth’s designs had become too extreme in the last year, and too modern, which had been fine for her debut, but not a wedding. She wanted to visit other designers when they got to Paris.
Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel was making a sensation, but she was too controversial, also too modern, focused more on sportswear, and didn’t seem appropriate to Louise for a wedding gown. Paul Poiret was a strong possibility, and had become very important on the Paris fashion scene. Also the houses of Doucet and Paquin. Elsa Schiaparelli had also become very noteworthy in the world of haute couture, but from the magazines Louise had brought with her, it seemed like she was more engaged in trend setting, with knitwear, tweeds, ski suits, swimsuits, and chic trompe l’oeil sweaters that were all the rage. But Louise didn’t think her wedding gowns would be traditional enough, and she wanted to meet with Jeanne Lanvin, an important designer in Paris fashion. She had designed a number of exquisite gowns for her daughter, the Comtesse de Polignac, which Louise had seen in Vogue, and she had a feeling that Jeanne Lanvin might be the right designer for Eleanor’s wedding gown. They were going to make an appointment to see her at her new boutique on Faubourg Saint-Honoré. They had serious work to do when they got there, and by the time they docked at Le Havre, Eleanor was ready to join her mother in their quest for the most spectacular wedding gown they could have designed.
They stayed at the Ritz, as they had the year before. After giving themselves one day to recover from the journey, they walked around Paris enjoying the spring weather, and the next day they embarked on their mission. Before they left the hotel, Eleanor got a telegram from Alex.
“Counting the days, and loving you more every day. Have fun! I love you. Alex.” She left the hotel with a smile on her face, after asking the concierge at the Ritz to send her response. Then she and Louise began making the rounds of Parisian designers.
They started with Paul Poiret on the rue Auber, and looked over a book of his recent bridal designs. The sketches were beautiful but Eleanor wasn’t excited about any of them, which was disappointing.
From there they went to Elsa Schiaparelli because Eleanor wanted to see her trompe l’oeil pullover sweaters. She bought four of them. They were Schiaparelli’s signature pieces and the height of fashion. One was a pierced heart, there was a sailor’s tattoo, a skeleton, and a black pullover with a shocking pink bow, the designer’s favorite color combination. Eleanor was excited about the sweaters, which were a huge hit among fashionable couture clients in Paris, but not about the bridal designs they showed them. She used a lot of visible zippers and modern touches that Eleanor loved for day wear, but the wedding gowns didn’t appeal to her at all.
They went to the Crillon for lunch then, and then to Jeanne Lanvin’s new boutique on the Faubourg Saint-Honoré. The design house had been established for forty years, but the boutique was new. As soon as they arrived, both Eleanor and Louise knew they had come to the right place. Lanvin’s designs were not overly modern, they weren’t flashy or showy, but they were everything that haute couture should be. Aside from the exquisite workmanship, where every stitch was done by hand, the designs themselves combined elegance and youth, opulence without vulgarity or pretentiousness. They were incredibly chic, and exquisitely tasteful, and had a regal quality to them. Eleanor could see herself in a dress designed by Madame Lanvin. She knew it would be very special and just right for the most important day of her life.
The directrice of haute couture met them initially, and Madame Lanvin herself joined them halfway through the meeting. She spent some time talking to Eleanor, getting to know her, and listening to her describe how she envisioned herself on her wedding day, what her dream was, and what kind of bride she wanted to be. Then she made a quick sketch on a small pad, her interpretation of what Eleanor had said, with a little twist here and there, and additional suggestions, as Eleanor stared at the drawing in amazement. It was exactly what she wanted, but hadn’t known before. It was as though Madame Lanvin had read her mind.
“That is precisely what I want,” Eleanor said in a hushed voice, in awe of the famous designer.
“Yes…just so…and do we want satin?” The designer muttered to herself, “No…we want lace, with the design embroidered in tiny pearls…yes…yes…ah, voilà…comme ça…non…I think we make the waist very small,” she glanced at Eleanor’s slim waist and nodded, “very small…and the skirt wider to accentuate it.” She looked at Louise and Eleanor then, “No chemise. Everyone is doing that now. Poiret, Worth…they’re all doing it. I do it too, but not for brides. We make the skirt wider but not too wide, and a very, very, very long train, like for a queen. I did that for my daughter when she became a comtesse…and the veil over the face, to here,” she indicated Eleanor’s fingertips, “but long at the back with the same lace around the edges.” Her pencil flew over the sketchpad, and a vision of a regal-looking bride appeared. Regal, and at the same time delicate and vulnerable, with long sleeves and a high neck, and a bell shaped skirt that would swing as she walked down the aisle and a waist so small you could put two hands around it. The entire gown would be embroidered over the lace and encrusted with tiny pearls. Both Eleanor and her mother could easily envision her in the wedding dress, as Madame Lanvin sat back and smiled at them.