Aisha stood in her suite at the Palace, utterly frazzled. Her mother, sister, and best friends sat on the sofa and chaise lounge, sipping champagne, and staring at her expectantly. The staff exchanged glances.
Various major fashion houses had sent Aisha their creations- beautiful gowns in ivory, snow white, and cream- some sleek and form-fitting, some puffy with several layers of underskirts, all suitable conservative to match the taste of the Royal Family. Painstakingly embroidered, beaded, and scalloped, each gown was a creamy confection straight out of a fairy tale.
Aisha had spent the past six hours trying on the gowns- each designer had sent a small army of assistants with each gown, who would help Aisha in and out of them, and make any necessary adjustments.
Each gown was more beautiful than the last, and they seemed to transform her into an otherworldly beauty. Her family and friends oohed and aahed, and offered a multitude of opinions as to which gown Aisha should pick for her wedding day.
Her sister and Rose favoured a long, voluminous gown with a train that would stretch halfway out of Westminster Abbey, but her mother and Natalie preferred a sleek, modern number with a more modest veil.
Aisha bit her lip. While the modern gown was more her style, she hadn’t experienced that eureka moment that told her yes, this is the dress.
“I’m sorry,” said Aisha, shaking her head, “None of these.”
The assistants looked slightly miffed, but inclined their heads respectfully and began zipping up the fairytale gowns in their bags.
“None of these?” burst out Asmi, her sister, “Oh, Aisha! You’ve just been shown the most beautiful gowns in the UK! Didn’t you like even one?”
“Oh, I liked them all,” said Aisha, throwing an apologetic glance at the assistants, “It’s just that… none of them felt… right.”
Nat rolled her eyes.
“Honestly, Aisha. Most women would jump at these designer gowns, but to you, none of them feel right?”
“It’s hard to explain,” said Aisha, “What I wear on my wedding day has to feel completely me, you know? It has to represent who I am. And none of these did.”
“I understand what you mean, beta,” said Mrs. Ahluwalia kindly, “In fact, you’ve given me an idea.”
Aisha turned to her mother, eyes wide.
“What is it, Ma?” she asked.
Mrs. Ahluwalia stood up, and approached Aisha. Typing something into her phone, she turned the screen towards her daughter.
“Does this represent you?” she asked with a small smile.
Aisha gasped.
“It’s perfect!”
YOU ARE READING
Aisha and the Prince of Wales
ChickLitAisha Ahluwalia is a London-based Indian, focussed on her career as a personal shopper with the UK's most sought-after designer, Elise Alva. She's used to dealing with celebrities, having handled clients ranging from Oscar-winning actors to the wive...
