While shopping with my mom and sister during the recent invitation assembly weekend, I informed them that I'm feeling an overwhelming desire to have all new clothes for the honeymoon. This is super strange for me, and something I naturally feel guilty about. That's when my mother informed me, "It's called a trousseau, honey. It's traditional. You're safe." Woo Hoo! Thanks mom! I'll be sure to pass the news on to Raf. ;)
So after an entertaining road trip conversation with Kaylie and Ashley this weekend (including Ashley's iPhone search for the definition of trousseau), this is what we learned (compliments of About.com):
trous·seau, n. [French, from Old French, diminutive of trousse, bundle. See truss.] The possessions, such as clothing and linens, that a bride assembles for her marriage.
Throughout history, single young women all over the world have prepared for their change in marital status by accumulating a trousseau. A traditional trousseau -- stored in a hope chest -- included bridal accessories, jewelry, lingerie, toiletries and makeup, plus bed linens and bath towels for her new home.
From Victorian times till today, the trousseau also has consisted of brand-new outfits to see a woman through her wedding, honeymoon, and newlywed days.
Oftentimes the garments in a trousseau were hand-sewn by a mother, aunt, grandmother, or the girl herself, if skilled with a needle. Wealthier families procured the skills of a professional seamstress to outfit the bride-to-be.
Long story short, the ladies of the fam need to get busy with their sewing needles! Ha! But seriously, this little tidbit of knowledge is the very green light I needed to partake in far too much shopping therapy lately. But whatever--I'm going to look super cute holed up in that cabin for the honeymoon!
So, who wants to join me for some shopping shopping?? I need a bathing suit. And another 7 or 12 dresses, at least.
Photo via Anthro.
1 comment:
That explains my desire to go dress and bathing suit shopping for our upcoming Costa Rican/Panamanian honeymoon. Thanks for the historical excuse (as if I needed one).
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