Awaken, Sleeping Beauty!

Notes on couture, femininity & motherhood

Aug 21, 2024

As my four-year-old daughter was enjoying a bowl of fresh berries, I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up.

“A princess!” she said, without hesitation.

I choked back a curse word. Clearly the girls-can-do-anything books I’d been reading to her since she was a baby had done little to counter the centrifugal force of Disney.

Oblivious to my crisis, she proceeded to cap each of her fingertips with a raspberry, eating them one by one.

“You know that’s not a real job, right?” I asked. I didn’t want to shame her choice, but a micro-dose of reality couldn’t hurt.

“Oh,” she said, wiping some juice from her chin on the sleeve of her pajama top. “Well…I want to go to work with you!”

I accepted this morsel of flattery and we moved onto other topics - namely a refill of her snacks and a request for Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off.”

My four-year-old in all her glory! Twinning in Nassau in banana print.

For days, the conversation lingered in my mind. What did she mean when she said she wanted to be a princess? Given that she knew nothing of royalty or the history of empire, I assumed the draw was the clothes. Dresses were her daily uniform, the more ruffles, the better. She loved accessories - headbands and necklaces, bracelets and rings. On the rare occasions I dressed up, she begged for a spritz of perfume and a smear of my lipstick.

Growing up, I wasn’t much of a girly girl. Chubby and shy, I sensed that the princess fantasy wasn’t designed for me. I shied away from the pink and sparkly, cultivating my weirder parts in stories and sketchbooks.

I thought of my daughter on my visit to “Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion,” the latest exhibition from the Costume Institute at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. With approximately 220 garments and accessories spanning four centuries, the show is a veritable treasure trove for an aspiring princess.

Callot Soeurs. Attributed to Pierre Gerber. Wedding ensemble, 1930

Arriving alone on a Friday afternoon, I circumvented the two-hour wait by becoming a member on the spot. Two minutes later, I glided through the doors, triumphant.

The concept behind the exhibition is to “resuscitate” these garments, which are no longer part of a personal wardrobe, but handled as art objects never to be worn again. Nature is the organizing principle of the show, with earth, wind and air as the broader subjects. Each gallery was themed around specific motifs like roses, insects and shells.

Alexander McQueen. Sarah Burton. Dress, spring/summer 2011

Admittedly, I was less interested in the exhibition’s literal attempts to trigger the senses with scratch and sniff walls, video projections, and a soundtrack of bizarre noises. I was there for the clothes, and they did not disappoint.

As a textile designer, I saw every construction imaginable - beading, embroidery, pleating, moire, warp prints, brocades, crochets, knits, sateens, metallics, pearls, gems and 3-D printed shapes arranged like armor. I especially enjoyed glimpses of fragile garments laid flat, as though they were resting. Light pulsed gently over them, revealing the color and details before cloaking them in the safety of semi-darkness.

The piece used in the signage for the show was a gown by Japanese designer, Jun Takahashi. Layers of diaphanous fabric were gracefully wrapped over an illuminated wearable terrarium lined with blooms. The piece was created in “reference to fading memories” for a blend of poetry and fashion.

Undercover. Jun Takahashi. Dress, spring/summer 2024

As I walked the curving halls, shuffling slowly in the throng of eager viewers, I found myself shopping for myself and my daughter. The Alexander McQueen butterfly dress for her, the deconstructed Dries Van Noten ensemble for me. For the first time, I considered the possibility that if my daughter’s desire to be a princess led her to create otherworldly gowns like these, the brainwashing of traditional femininity might actually be worth it.

Dries Van Noten, Ensemble, spring/summer 2014

I was probably the only South Asian mother in the world who actually wanted her kids to be creatives. But my ability to make things has saved me again and again throughout my life. Writing, baking, cooking, sewing, knitting, weaving, painting - the ability to produce something from the faulty universe of my brain and the skill of my two hands was invaluable. As much as I hoped for their personal safety and financial stability, I prayed my kids would discover their inner resources, their own ways to stay buoyant and inspired in an increasingly chaotic world.

On my shelf now sits the gorgeous, 468 page catalog I gleefully carried home (purchased with a member discount!). I'm excited to one day share my collection of fashion books with my daughter. Who knows what the beauty might awaken in her.

“Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion,” is on view until September 2nd.