Made in Italy with Love

Over the past couple months I’ve occupied myself with a side project when I haven’t been busy with research, exploring Europe, evenings out with friends, my independent Italian studies, grad school applications, a collection of novels, and catching up on all the sleep I missed during the past three years at MIT (and four in high school and three at West Hollow…) Okay, maybe I’ve been a bit over-ambitious but if I weren’t, would I still be the Mimi/Em/Emilienne you know and love?

In the end, here is my completed MIT Senior Ball gown.

As sewing is my art, I’d like to dedicate this gown to my Mémé.

From the time I was little, my Mémé always took joy in sewing me outfits. I’ll never forget the Christmas pajamas she made that I donned each year on the night most filled with anticipation. When my Mémé gave me a large check for my sweet sixteen, she suggested I buy a watch but I don't think she disapproved when that money went to my first sewing machine. Only a year and a half later, my MIT application essay began with the words

“The light from my window slices the cool night air. Inside, a dull whirring filters through my bedroom door. My house is fast asleep, all but me and my sewing machine.”

By the time I’d begun making clothes, my Mémé’s eyesight had already become so poor that she could no longer make anything herself, but she took a silent, reserved pride in watching her love passed down to another generation, her namesake nonetheless. My Mémé and I have followed very different paths in life, but we both came together in our love for sewing.

When she passed away in September, I returned to the US for a few days. During that time, I purchased the pattern for this gown and some notions. I had a layover in Paris on the way home, and it seemed only appropriate that my first time using French while fabric shopping should be for a gown whose memory would be inextricably tied to my grandmother. It was, after all, for her that I began to study the language I now love. I purchased ribbons and a few final notions in Italy, quickly turning this dress into an international project.

Even the international nature of this project could be tied back to my grandmother. Having been given her unusual (and unpronounceable) name, I must always explain in introducing myself that I am, in fact, American, but named after my Canadian grandmother. Constantly recounting her story instilled within me the idea that you should never be afraid to seek your most fulfilling future, even if it takes you alone to a new country whose language you hardly speak. That’s what my Mémé did when she was only twenty-one years old. And though I may have long outgrown the pairs she actually wore, I have finally grown to walk in my Mémé’s shoes.