Entry No. 2: On Epiphanies & The Call To Handsew

My Epiphany Gown From My Spring 2021 Collection; photo by Rebecca Castonguay

Hello, my Darling.

Sometimes, you just have to be still and listen to the quiet whisperings of your soul.

Though I’ve been designing professionally for many years, there’s always been a gentle tug at my heart—like a thread being pulled. I’ve always felt immensely creative, yes—but still, something felt unfinished.

When I first began designing wedding dresses in 2007, I drafted my own patterns, purchased fabric on 37th Street in Manhattan, and painstakingly pinned, cut, and crafted my first bridal gowns. In those days, I was a young mother, my living room strewn with muslin, blue-dot paper, and trim—my nine-month-old daughter crawling through piles of fabric. Always a gifted illustrator, I filled my sketchbooks with vintage silhouettes and dramatic ball gowns, all inspired by the golden eras of fashion.

But with time, I noticed something important: my technical sewing didn’t always match my creative vision. And as a professional, that matters—because in bridal, there’s no room for miscommunication. I remember lamenting to colleagues, hoping for advice or affirmation.

“Why are you sewing anything yourself?” they’d ask, confused.

After all, I’d worked as a designer in both the New York and L.A. garment districts. A fresh-faced graduate, trained in design and product development. My job was always to design. Manufacturers handled the rest.

And I still stand by that model.

I proudly work with manufacturers—and always will.

It’s how I can grow with grace, scale with ease, and serve every bride with excellence.

What sets me apart is this: even as I scale, I’m deepening my knowledge—not because I plan to sew every sample or toile—but because I know what it takes to get it right.

My Epiphany from my Spring 2010 collection

Something I learned early on in Los Angeles:

If you cannot clearly explain how to construct a garment, you’ll almost always receive something misaligned.

And when a bride is trusting me with one of the most important dresses of her life, I take that seriously.

So now, I’m studying.

I’ve enrolled in a dressmaking academy and an alterations course. I’m learning couture draping techniques. I’ve been collecting vintage patterns, couture reference books, and specialty tools. I’m expanding my construction vocabulary—not so I can hand-sew every gown, but so I can communicate with confidence, catch issues early, and elevate the quality my brand is known for.

Because I’ve chosen to build a brand that can scale beautifully, without compromising craftsmanship.

Many independent designers struggle to grow because they’re hand-sewing every gown or working with only one local seamstress. When demand increases, they’re left scrambling—trying to find help, manage quality, or navigate complex hiring laws.

But not me.

As a professionally trained designer with established production partners, I don’t face those same growing pains.

My growth is already built into my model.

And that’s the true luxury: when a bride chooses me, she gets the best of both worlds. The care and artistry of a couture house with the efficiency and consistency of world-class production.

Even so, I’ve long been drawn to the beauty of hand sewing. Machine work often feels too fast, too impersonal. Sergers, with their brutal blades, make me anxious—cutting away fabric that may one day be needed. I like to slow things down. Even when I machine-sew a toile, it’s done thoughtfully. And the final gown, crafted in true fabric, deserves even more reverence.

I may allow a side seam or two by machine, but only where truly necessary. Because some things deserve the quiet dignity of a needle and thread.

It’s no wonder, then, that every collection I’ve released has included a gown called Epiphany.

• In Spring 2011, Epiphany shimmered in taffeta with cascading ruffles and delicate draping.

• In Spring 2012, she returned as a champagne mermaid, adorned in intricate beading.

• In Spring 2021, Epiphany was reimagined in Mikado silk with a plunging neckline, sculptural peplums, and a grand ballgown skirt.

Epiphany has always meant something to me.

A shift. A light. A sacred turning.

And yes—my next Epiphany is already sketched. Her silhouette waits quietly as I begin sourcing her fabric. She’ll debut at New York Bridal Fashion Week in April 2026.

But in the meantime, something even bigger has begun to unfold.

My Epiphany gown from my 2012 collection on the runway

Over the past year, a new idea has quietly taken root. A vision that will change not only my business, but the entire bridal and fashion landscape. I won’t say too much yet, but I will say this:

I plan to teach.

To train the next generation of artists and designers. To preserve what’s beautiful—and pass it on.

There’s a conservatory taking shape. And it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

Many things have started to move behind the scenes—and Darling, I’m so excited to share more in the seasons ahead.

Until then, I’ll keep learning, sketching, and stitching—one thread at a time.

If this journey speaks to your heart, I invite you to subscribe to the diary.

Let us stitch a story of beauty and becoming—together.

With all my heart,

Dani Simone, The Dressmaker