When I first embarked on my wedding dress search, I knew I wanted to take an eco-minded approach. As British Vogue’s senior sustainability and features editor, I try to practice what I preach, and the reality of getting married in the 2020s is that millions of wedding gowns are purchased every year and the majority of them are worn for one day only. While the array of planet-friendly choices for brides may be on the rise, I still struggled to find “the one”–a dress that I loved, with the sustainability credentials to match, that was, crucially, within my $6,000 budget.
Then the pandemic hit. Our wedding date was scheduled for September 2020 and as bridal boutiques across London began to close their doors, I started to panic about whether I would be able to get a dress in time. That’s when a Gabriela Hearst slip dress caught my eye. The silk herringbone design perfectly suited my minimalist-leaning style, plus, as a longtime fan of the New York-based designer’s thoughtful and often pioneering approach, it was completely in line with my values. The only snag? There was only one dress still available, via The Outnet, and it was two sizes too big.
Having consulted the Gabriela Hearst team, who were confident that it would fit with some alterations, I decided to take the plunge and purchase it. The dress arrived during lockdown; I tried it on alone in my bedroom, ensuring my now husband wouldn’t see. After deciding to postpone our wedding to the following summer, the dress didn’t come out of its box again until about a month before our new date, in July 2021. Atelier Colpani in London’s Mayfair made the necessary alterations and I bought a handcrafted silk veil from Wiltshire-based company Britten to go with it. On the day itself, the fact that so many family and friends commented that the dress was “very me” confirmed I had made the right choice, which is perhaps why, despite having every intention of reselling my dress post wedding, I have found it so difficult to let it go.
I had it dry-cleaned and placed it back inside its box, where it remained for the best part of two and a half years. Fast forward to the start of 2024 and I could no longer bear what a waste it was to keep the dress untouched at the back of my wardrobe. Reluctant to sell, I decided I would have my dress dyed–after all, it was only the colour that made it feel bridal. I posted an Instagram call-out seeking recommendations for natural dyers, whose practices tend to be more eco-friendly, and a friend suggested Cavan Jayne McPherson, a Glasgow-based colorist who’s worked with the likes of Alexander McQueen, Nike, Paolina Russo and Sinéad O’Dwyer.
Initially, I wanted to dye my wedding dress black, but soon realized that wouldn’t be possible because of the silk material. “[Black] usually involves additives that can be quite harsh on protein fibers [such as silk], which are a lot more sensitive,” McPherson, who has also just launched her own brand, Datha, explains. Eventually, we settled upon a deep blue, a shade we achieved using sustainably sourced logwood.
It’s an exacting process: after some sampling, the dress is soaked in hot water to release any potential stains and washed with a pH-neutral detergent, to ensure that nothing pH sensitive (such as perfume) disrupts the dyeing process. Then McPherson applies the mordant–in this case, ferrous sulphate–which prepares the fiber to absorb the dye, before putting the dress in a heated dye bath containing wood chips and water for an hour, while constantly massaging it to ensure the finish is as even as possible. Finally, the dress is dipped in cold water to preserve the color, washed in the pH-neutral detergent again to remove any excess pigment, and hung up in the drying cupboard overnight.
Initially, McPherson dyed the dress a shade lighter than the sample, as she wasn’t sure how the silk lining would affect the color, before repeating the process to achieve a darker blue. “If you’re going down the natural dye route, you have to be flexible,” the colorist explains. “It’s a natural material, so it’s not always going to react in the exact way you want.”
Of course, dyeing isn’t the only way to transform your wedding dress. Moda Operandi cofounder Lauren Santo Domingo famously got her Olivier Theyskens dress cut in half during her wedding in Colombia because the heat got too much. Likewise, sustainable fashion campaigner Venetia La Manna had the slip dress she wore on her wedding day altered, so that she could incorporate it into her day-to-day wardrobe. With more and more brides wanting to wear their wedding dress beyond their big day, a growing number of brands are also providing upcycling services. Take Vivienne Westwood, which offers a bespoke option for its brides. “The aim [is] to eliminate waste and give each Vivienne Westwood gown a new life,” Brigitte Stepputtis, the brand’s head of couture, explains, whether that’s through altering the silhouette of the dress, adding detachable sleeves, lace detailing, embroidery or embellishments, or using hand painting techniques.
As for McPherson, she’s launching a bespoke service for other brides looking to transform their wedding dress. “I’m so passionate about pieces being reimagined and reworn, [creating] timeless pieces where there’s that emotional durability,” she says.
I’m not sure I’ll ever own a piece of clothing that means as much to me as my wedding dress and, after getting it dyed, it has even more stories to tell. Happily, now, I can actually wear it, instead of letting it languish away in a box.