Following Brighton Writer Squad‘s visit to Brighton Museum, the young writers were asked to write a piece in response to an object (and another piece in response to a costume).
Sian (16) wrote a response to two costumes in the Fashion and Style Gallery:
Shifting from toe to toe under a canopy of tiny white lights, he smoothes his dark hair almost worriedly but a smile is there under the pale shade of pink at his cheeks. The sweep of his fringe is slightly disheveled it’s noted that he should probably have had it cut, but with the dark word of the barn like hall behind him, it’s all forgotten admist the magic. The suit fits him in a strange way, such a new angle for friends who usually saw him as the laid back jean-cladden, joker of the pack. The contrast in itself is it’s own kind of beautiful. His hands, crossed in front of him, a telltale sign of awkwardness and anxiety, do not seem to match the grin building at his mouth. His eyes do not leave the doorway, their stare driven with anticipation. A gentle whisper from brown eyed bestman untwists those crossed hands, but can do nothing to prevent the wide eyed sigh that escapes him as she first appears.
She is sunlight and the moon and every single star as she meets his gaze at the beginning of the aisle She glides like snowfall, her dress a million intertwined snowflakes, hugging her figure, carrying her with the grace of passing clouds. Her smile is radiant, her eyes crinkling up and her dimple showing as her line of sight catches his dropped jaw. She lets out the softest of giggles, the tiny diamonds in her hair twinkling as she ducks her head and then brings her eyes back to his. The gaze they share as she takes her steps towards him is like an invisible iron tether, that puts everyone else in the room’s beams to the background. Their grins matching, their eyes only for each other more bewitching than her exposed shoulders, the border of frosted fern across her chest, the blonde ringlets falling halfway down her back, was this refined wonder they held for each other It surpasses anyone else’s joy and captures the heart of every single person present.
Her father smiles to himself as she grips his arm, watching this connection with recognition and pride that his daughter has followed her heart. He looks at the man she has chosen to spend forever with, who from the evident adoration present in his face, clearly has chosen her to spend forever with too, and takes her hand and gently places it into his with a nod his way and a kiss on her cheek. As their fingers curl together, her eyes meet her fathers to share her bliss before flickering back to her groom and taking his other hand into hers. Standing with intertwined stares, the harmony of vows in their ears, he catches a stray strand of her hair and brushes it back and nothing has ever sounded as pure and right as those words flowing between their lips. Sealed with a kiss under fairy lights sealed with the tears of happiness of friends and family, he bent down and let these words glide: “You’re better than snow”.