by Laura Komai
When I was a little girl, I loved frills and lace, especially pink, and dresses. I wanted very badly to be a ballerina, mostly because of the tutus. I don't know if my mom even realized this, but that desire for a tutu was largely what motivated me to take ballet in first grade. However, after a semester of leaping over puddles and monsters, and practicing first, second and third positions, I was selected to lead the forest animal parade for our dance recital (and everyone knows that raccoons don't wear tutus!). I could tell that a tutu was a long way off. I quit.

In quitting ballet, I think I might have given up on ever having a tutu. What reason other than ballet would one have to wear yards of tulle anyway? Luckily I found an answer to that question, in a happy convergence of several people (who don't know each other and independently made their contribution to Midsummer Nights' Dreaming).

First, is my little friend Katie, in whom I see my childhood self. When she was four, she would dress up in her Sleeping Beauty dress and would only answer to "Princess Aurora." For Christmas that year, I made her a dress that I would have loved myself at that age, a white top with pink embroidered flowers, ribbon roses ant the neckline and cuffs, pink satin underneath sparkly pink tulle for the skirt. I have never seen so instantly that someone loved a present as when she opened that box. There was a gasp of delight, she immediately started taking off her everyday clothes and quickly transformed herself into Aurora's princess cousin. That was the beginning. I had opened the floodgates and I started purchasing tulle and sewing, finding delight simply in the creation. I could see several houses of entertainment making fairy/princess dress-up dresses for little girls.

Second, in sharing Katie's reaction with Jen, a coworker, I discovered I wasn't the only one who had dreams of pouffy tulle skirts. In reality, pouffy tulle skirts mostly look silly on any grown up who isn't a ballerina or a model, but that's not the point. The point is that you feel really wonderful in such a dress; maybe it's because it transports you back to childhood make-believe of fairies and princesses, glittering ballrooms and happily ever after. So for Jen's birthday, I made a fairy skirt with six different colors of tulle and flowers scattered around on the skirt. For my birthday she made me one in all my favorite colors of blue and green and purple. Later, we were all fairies atLittle Luxuries (where I work) for Halloween. I even wore my fairy costume to the bank that day. The only drawback is that it is very hard to focus on work when wearing such an outfit.

Third, I shared Katie's reaction with another friend, Anna, who shared her dream of a restored house with mom and daughter tea parties and a closet full of dress-up clothes. After that conversation, I invited Katie over for a midsummer tea party. Anna also has a beautiful daughter, Eliza, and I made coordinating mother-daughter fairy skirts. Now we all dress up and go out on midsummer picnics. The most amazing aspect of these fairy dresses is the smiles they elicit. They are frivolity and whimsy in the purest form I know, which affects not just the wearer but the viewer as well -- we all know surely the fairies are smiling in approval. Perhaps not many men can relate, but I've found several women for whom these fairy dresses elicit happy memories and dreams. One such person is grown-up acquaintance Kathy. The first sight of my fairy skirts (at that time made mostly for children), conjured visions of grown-ups on fairy parades through the woods. It is becoming clear to me that I am not alone in my delight, nor is there any age limit.

Fourth and finally is fellow artist, Ginger, who always has grand dreams and wonderful large-scale creations. Inspired by her, I decided to bring all the fairy dresses and accessories together in one big creation to share. I hope that the fabrics and images fuel your own dreams of midsummer and that you enjoy them even half as much as I have.