Last night, in honor of Father’s Day, I found myself watching the movie, Father of the Bride; not the Steve Martin version but the original 1950 version starring Spencer Tracy and Elizabeth Taylor. It is the story of a father who realizes that he is losing his daughter when she announces she is getting married. The moment Elizabeth Taylor appeared in her wedding dress, I sighed. She looked so beautiful in that dress of lace and what was it – satin? And it came to me that I have always had a love affair with wedding dresses. When I was four years old, I wanted more than anything to be a bride for Halloween. And my mother obliged – I remember feeling so excited in my wedding dress. The only problem was that I lived in an apartment in Jackson Heights, Queens, and trick-or-treating meant schlepping up and down several flights of stairs. By the end of the evening I had ripped-through the bottom of the dress. That was not a happy memory for me, but my love of wedding dresses still runs deep. I am a romantic so that makes sense, but I think it is the dress itself: the white, the special fabrics, the elegance. It could also be about what the dress represents – beautiful promises of what is to come.