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.
While I’ve been designing professionally for many years, there’s always been a gentle tug at my heart—like a thread being pulled. Though I consider myself quite creative, something always felt missing.
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 new mother with a living room strewn in muslin, blue-dot paper, and trim—my nine-month-old daughter crawling among the piles of fabric. Ever a gifted illustrator, I filled my sketchbooks with luxurious ball gowns—remnants of a bygone era of vintage fashion, my deepest well of inspiration.
But as time went on, I noticed that my ability to translate beauty to paper far outweighed my skill at the sewing machine. I fretted and bemoaned this to my colleagues.
“Why are you sewing anything yourself?” they asked, puzzled.
I’d already worked as a designer in both the New York and L.A. garment districts—a fresh-faced graduate with hope in my heart and dreams in my eyes. Yet in all my roles, no one asked me to sew. My job was to design—marketable styles with thoughtful colors, silhouettes, and fit that could sell thousands of units—while manufacturers handled the rest.
So, after hearing the same advice again and again, I found sample makers and manufacturers of my own. Many brides later, with successful collections behind me, that persistent yearning still remained. I found myself constantly imagining what it would feel like to construct masterpieces with my own hands. To be the artist—not just in vision—but in form, in fabric, in stitch. I no longer wanted to outsource the part of my work that felt most sacred.
Last October, I became quiet. I left social media without knowing what lay ahead. I only knew I wanted to cut out the noise and carve a higher, more intimate space for myself. One where I could create for people who truly valued the time, devotion, and artistry it takes to work at this level.
After months of silence, prayer, and reflection, my heart stirred.
A quiet but undeniable epiphany.
I kept hearing my brand name—Dani Simone Couture—and something within me rose up. It was time to become what I’d always been: a true couturière.
With lineage rooted in the hands of makers—seamstresses, tailors, cobblers, and women of refined taste—I felt it was finally time to move from intention to embodiment, to live the life of a true couturière rather than merely speak of it. I needed to learn, to try, to create—not only with vision, but with my hands. To take pride in the labor, the patience, the devotion. To become the woman my soul had always whispered I was becoming.
I’ve long been obsessed with vintage garments and their impeccable construction. I even taught other designers how to recognize and demand that level of craftsmanship in their own work. And I held no exceptions for the sample makers I hired—I expected excellence. But now, it’s time to expect that same excellence from myself.
My heart has longed to hand sew. Machine sewing always felt… disconnected. Impersonal. I’ve never liked sergers—so quick to carelessly slice away precious fabric that could later serve a purpose. Even machine-stitched toiles often feel rushed to me. And perhaps that’s part of the luxury—refusing to rush.
While I’m comfortable machine-sewing a toile, the final gown—crafted in its true fabric—deserves more reverence. The hum of a machine feels too hurried for such sacred work. I may allow a side seam here or there, but only where truly needed.
Interestingly, every collection I’ve released has included a gown called Epiphany.
My Epiphany from my Spring 2010 collection
In my Spring 2011 collection, Epiphany shimmered in taffeta with cascading ruffles and delicate draping. In Spring 2012, she returned as a champagne mermaid with intricate hand beading. And again, in Spring 2021, Epiphany appeared as a deep V-neck Mikado gown with asymmetrical peplums, a plunging back, and a grand ball gown skirt with a flowing train.
Epiphany has always meant something to me.
It signals that something sacred is shifting. Like light entering the dark corners of a once-forgotten room. Like the turning of a page.
And yes—my next Epiphany has already taken shape on paper, her silhouette quietly waiting as I begin the tender process of sourcing her fabric. She will make her grand debut at New York Bridal Fashion Week in April 2026.
My Epiphany gown from my 2012 collection on the runway
But until then, I’m savoring each quiet revelation. Each new truth unfolding in me as I continue becoming the woman—and the couturière—I’ve always been destined to be.
To read each unfolding entry, I invite you to subscribe—handwritten from my heart to yours.
Let us stitch a story of beauty and becoming.
With Love,
Dani Simone
