As another wedding anniversary gracefully approaches, memories flood back from a recent lunch with a college friend—also an architect—about the time I chose my wedding dress. This isn't just a tale of a dress, but a glimpse into the origins of my design philosophy.
Back in the early nineties, the prevailing trend was to dazzle: dresses adorned with rhinestones, crystals, glitzy beads, and shiny satin fabrics designed to capture and reflect every speck of light. Amidst this sea of sparkle, I sought something different, something that truly resonated with my personal taste and future aspirations.
I remember spending my lunch hours darting between the office in Tribeca and the Midtown fashion district fabric stores, on a quest for the perfect material. My persistence paid off when I discovered a sumptuously soft silk with a luxurious matte finish. This fabric became my wedding dress—an emblem of elegance and understated grace, deliberately steering clear of the prevalent high-shine bling of the day.
Choosing this dress was more than a personal preference for my wedding day; it was a declaration of my design philosophy and a foreshadowing of my professional ethos.
During our lunch conversation, my friend pointed out how even then, my choice to avoid traditional shiny materials was a clear sign of my distinct approach to design. She reflected on how she remembered that I didn't want anything shiny and remarked how this choice still echoes in the jewelry I design today for Gatto Mancini Inc.
In a field like architecture, although women's presence is more normalized now, standing out has often been part of my journey. During my early years in architecture, there was an unspoken rule about the awkwardness of wearing jewelry on the job as a woman. It seemed that to be taken seriously, one had to conform to a more austere, almost sterile aesthetic. This perception influenced my approach to jewelry design, focusing on creating pieces that convey authority and professionalism without sacrificing elegance and personal style.
This philosophy is vividly expressed through my signature brushed matte gold finish—a choice that showcases beauty in a form that doesn’t need to shout to be seen or felt.
It's about creating pieces that speak quietly but compellingly of quality and sophistication.
Reflecting on the past, my mom, who over the years framed hundreds of wedding photos for customers of my parents' art gallery, often remarked that she could guess the wedding year by the style of the dress. So, as a nod to her, I pose her question to you: What year do you think I got married? Or is my style truly timeless?
The photo is a throwback to my wedding day, a moment captured in time yet timeless in style.
Does style define an era, or can it transcend the bounds of time?
I believe in creating pieces that stand the test of time.