GOd bless her soul. I have a lovely book to recall the memories. My father hailed from Hill Road and I used to marvel as a child how wonderful Lydia's creation were W
Sent from my iPad Wendell Rodricks, Campal, Panjim. GOA 403001. INDIA Off tel: +91-832-2420604, Shop tel: +91-832-2238177 Off email: [email protected] On 09-May-2015, at 8:52 PM, Goanet Reader <[email protected]> wrote: > LYDIA'S STORY: ONE STITCH AT A TIME > A tribute to a much-sort-after dressmaker from Bandra > > By Brenda Rodrigues > [email protected] > > It was the dream of every Bandra girl to have her wedding > gown sewn by Lydia, and I was no exception. But I was the > only lucky girl -- who both had Lydia do my wedding gown and > also got her for my mother-in-law! > > Lydia was one of the most-sought-after dressmakers in Bombay, > and at the height of her fame, clients would come from abroad > to have their entire trousseaus designed by her. It was > renown earned at the cost of much personal sacrifice. > > Few knew of the poignant details, many of which > were a revelation even for me. Lydia's story, > which I reconstructed from personal discussions, > letters and newspaper articles, was carried in > *Lydia Brides*, a commemorative coffee table book > we brought out as a tribute to her on her 92nd > birthday. Many who read this chapter told us that > it brought tears to their eyes. Here is an > abridged version, in Lydia's own words: > > As a young girl I had always been scissors-happy, and nothing > pleased me more than concocting something dainty from wisps > of material. I got married at an early age, and was content > to be a housewife and a lady of leisure and never ever > thought of making dressmaking a profession, and never had > need to. > > It was when my husband, Anthony, got very ill and had to give > up his job and stay home that I found myself at the > crossroads of life. I realized that I would have to fend for > myself to support my husband and four children. I had worked > as a teacher in St. Sebastian's Goan High School in Dabul, > but could not think of going back to teaching. > > My sister-in-law who had a well-known dress salon in town > consented to engage me, and so I landed up doing what I loved > -- dressmaking. My salary was small but somehow I managed to > run my home on this. I had to leave early every morning and > it broke my heart to leave my sick husband and four children > in the care of servants but I had no other alternative. My > youngest was less than two years old. > > Although a novice in dressmaking, I learnt fast. My > sis-in-law was an exacting taskmistress and did not fail to > pull me up sharply or reprimand me for the smallest thing. > > Once I was even accused of taking Rs. 150, and despite > proclaiming my innocence, this was cut out of my salary. I > bore this humiliation quietly. Later it was discovered that > the boy who worked in the shop had stolen the money. I > continued to work with such dedication that I was soon put in > complete charge of the whole establishment, even dealing with > foreigners who were extremely demanding. > > I would return home very late when the children > were fast asleep, and I could talk to them only the > next morning. What anguish I went through every > day and night and my fears never subsided. I was > at work in February 1952 when I got terrible news: > our darling baby (it was just five days to her > second birthday) had drowned in a pond in a > neighbouring garden. Added to this trauma, and > because of this, my husband's health further > deteriorated and he had a nervous breakdown. I was > also seven months pregnant. Only the Lord knew why > he was testing me so much. > > I felt it was now my duty to be by my husband's side as much > as possible. I took a make-or-break decision to start out on > my own. I felt I could rely on my natural talent and > instinct, backed by the work experience I had gained. > > At first my sisters came in with some capital on the > understanding that all the actual work had to be done solely > by me. I started at home with one Singer hand-sewing machine > loaned to me by my mother, and I shifted two cupboards > together to form a makeshift dressing room. Now that I was > all set, I just had to wait for customers... and I had to wait > in frustration because, believe it or not, there were no > customers to be found in Bandra those days. Gradually, the > financial backing extended to me was withdrawn and I was left > on my own to sink or swim. > > > My only option was to trace people in town and so I would > travel by train and bus, in rain and shine -- literally with > tears in my eyes -- going as far as Cuffe Parade to take an > order. I would call tailors during their off-hours or off > days to do piece work for me. Then I would go back again to > make delivery of the dress. > > I would get down on my knees daily and pray hard for > customers, and wondered where and when the next order would > come from. There were days when there was no money for the > next meal. Somewhere God must have heard my prayers and > silent weeping because some of my relatives began to place > their orders with me, simply to help ease my financial > problems. When they saw my work was good they gave me more > orders, and as the number of satisfied customers grew, the > word spread and more people sought my services on their own. > > During those early days, some customers would > linger and chat, sometimes for hours, sharing > confidences, seeking advice, maybe needing a > shoulder to cry on. I was glad to be of help. > Many grew to be dear lifelong friends. > > Business increased but I still did not have money to buy > another machine. Then a Gujarati gentleman, Vinod Parekh, > who was impressed with my work and seeing my struggle, held > out a helping hand. He got me a second-hand German machine > for Rs.240 on condition that I repay him as and when I could. > He also advanced me small amounts to purchase materials like > reels, lace, buckram etc., with the strict undertaking that I > repay every paisa, which I scrupulously did. Vinod turned > out to be a good family friend to whom my family and I owe a > great debt of gratitude for the many times he came to our > aid, not the least, when we all but lost our property. > > > Yes, there was another burden: the mortgage on the property. > Since we were unable to pay the instalments in time, the > mortgagers tried to foreclose and take over the property. My > terrible mental, emotional and financial distress can only be > imagined. Here again it was Vinod, who came to the rescue. > (Note: I'm omitting the details, though dramatic, for lack of > space.) > > With those humble beginnings, my business began to expand; > but just as it was picking up, I was struck another blow. In > June 1968 my husband had a fall and was rushed to hospital > but he kept insisting I take him home. Seeing him so > restless, the doctors too recommended that we take him home. > > He was stable for some time but then as his > condition deteriorated (he had cancer) we decided > to admit him to hospital; he was barely conscious, > but as he was being taken out of the house to a > waiting ambulance, he begged not to be sent to a > hospital and so we brought him back in. > > Throughout the following days and months, I would check in on > him even in the midst of attending to my work, and at the end > of the day, I would bathe him. As he got worse and became > immobilised, it was more difficult for me to cope. After six > months of suffering, he finally passed away on 20 November > 1968. > > Somehow, despite all the problems, Lydia Dressmakers grew > phenomenally. By this time, my daughter, Marie-Celine, had > come into the business. (Much later, her daughter, Carioca > also did a stint with us, making it a three-generation > set-up). My customers were not confined only to Bandra or > Mumbai, or India, but my clothes were also transported > overseas to Dubai, Germany, Belgium, Holland, London, Canada > and the States. I specialized in wedding gowns, also doing > outfits for bridesmaids, flower girls and other members of > the brides' families. > > Over the years, I have outfitted over 3,000 brides. > Once I even had 12 bridal gowns on a one day. I > managed to go and personally dress only eight of my > brides that day. I started at 5.00 a.m. near > Santa Cruz and ended up in Colaba. I maintained > good and friendly relations with all my customers > and continued making outfits for their children and > grand children. > > It has been a long road that I have travelled. I started out > with just one sewing machine, and a make-shift fitting room. > I grew to a stage where I had my own boutique with a show > window in the hub of Bandra's shopping paradise and 14 > tailors working full time. When I set out, my only aim was > to provide enough for my husband and children. By God's > grace, I did that and much more. > > Because of my age and failing eyesight I finally hung up my > tape measure and closed shop in 1997. Yet that did not > deprive me of the many happy memories I cherish of > interacting with my brides and customers and dwelling on > memories of the wide circle of loving friends I gained for > life. > > -- > > Lydia passed away on 5 May 2015, at the ripe old > age of 97. It marked the end of an era. Though > gone, her memory will continue to live on in the > hearts of all who knew her and loved her. In death > as in life, she looked regal. And even as she lay > in her coffin, there was a distinct smile on her > face. It was the seal on a life of extraordinary > achievement. --Brenda.
