Where First Communion made me fearful . . .

Parent's View: 'The year I made my Holy Communion, the in thing was a veil with a bun on top

Parent's View: 'The year I made my Holy Communion, the in thing was a veil with a bun on top. A big tulle ball that was held in place by a piece of elastic at the back of the head, with the veil flowing down to just past the shoulders, preferably scattered with diamante or pearls.

It gave a girl great height and was ideally balanced by a full-length dress with net underskirts hoiked up to reveal white T-bar sandals with a bit of a heel.

"Of course, I didn't have any of that. My dress was foreign and tasteful - cream fine wool with smocking in front and a Peter Pan collar. A simple hairband, a plain veil. My shoes were black patent. I was mortified not to be wearing white like the rest of the class at Booterstown National School, and I knew the shoes were wrong. Also, the veil kept tipping over on one side, since it was held in place by a ribbon tied under my chin, bonnet-style.

"Now I can see that the dress (which did three out of five girls in the family) was a classic. It wouldn't have looked out of place last Saturday at my daughter Kate's First Holy Communion. Several of the girls wore simple cream frocks with flowers in their hair and no veils at all. The look was very much more pashmina than parasol. Again, I was out of step. To compensate for my understated look back in 1969, Kate was in full Communion splendour - a floor-length pure white dress strewn with pearls, a beaded cardi, flowing veil, satin shoes, sheer tights, and a drawstring handbag. There wasn't a natural fibre in sight. Kate chose the dress herself. Only afterwards did I read the label saying 'Chinese Brides'.

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"In my day we were called brides of Christ and we were told that our Holy Communion day would be the happiest day of our lives until, that is, we got married. It was a hugely important day and while it was first and foremost about the dress, there was also the mysterious and quite frightening religious side. We were terrified of confession, having to go into a dark musty dock and wait for the little hatch to slide back over the grille, and sense rather than see the priest. 'I was bold, told lies and disobeyed my parents' came rushing out, and then the absolution and escape.

"My daughter, by contrast, sat beside the parish priest to the side of the altar, swinging her legs to and fro and beaming at him and at the first confession congregation of proud parents.

"She seemed equally unfazed by the body of Christ, accepting it into her satin gloved hand with none of the sense of awe and wonderment that I seem to remember we were expected to feel. Where I can remember being shy and fearful, Kate and her friends were full of fun and joy at the church, just bursting with confidence, looking forward to a big day ahead.

"On my day I remember a small party in the school and then visits to neighbours where scrunched-up notes were pressed into hands . . . Some girls went out to lunch and the zoo was also a big thing (Golly bars only, in case the dress got dirty).

"The neighbourhood round isn't so common any more. Instead, the neighbours may be invited in for champagne, or a sit-down lunch, while a bouncy castle is de rigueur.

Kate, of course, got lots of money into her drawstring bag, but she was most thrilled with her godmother's present, a silver cross and chain. I was sad to see how little her rosary beads and prayer book meant to her.

But I'm glad that she got the day that she wanted."

Orna Mulcahy

'The year I made my Holy Communion, the in thing was a veil with a bun on top. A big tulle ball that was held in place by a piece of elastic at the back of the head, with the veil flowing down to just past the shoulders, preferably scattered with diamante or pearls. It gave a girl great height and was ideally balanced by a full-length dress with net underskirts hoiked up to reveal white T-bar sandals with a bit of a heel.

"Of course, I didn't have any of that. My dress was foreign and tasteful - cream fine wool with smocking in front and a Peter Pan collar. A simple hairband, a plain veil. My shoes were black patent. I was mortified not to be wearing white like the rest of the class at Booterstown National School, and I knew the shoes were wrong. Also, the veil kept tipping over on one side, since it was held in place by a ribbon tied under my chin, bonnet-style.

"Now I can see that the dress (which did three out of five girls in the family) was a classic. It wouldn't have looked out of place last Saturday at my daughter Kate's First Holy Communion. Several of the girls wore simple cream frocks with flowers in their hair and no veils at all. The look was very much more pashmina than parasol. Again, I was out of step. To compensate for my understated look back in 1969, Kate was in full Communion splendour - a floor-length pure white dress strewn with pearls, a beaded cardi, flowing veil, satin shoes, sheer tights, and a drawstring handbag. There wasn't a natural fibre in sight. Kate chose the dress herself. Only afterwards did I read the label saying 'Chinese Brides'.

"In my day we were called brides of Christ and we were told that our Holy Communion day would be the happiest day of our lives until, that is, we got married. It was a hugely important day and while it was first and foremost about the dress, there was also the mysterious and quite frightening religious side. We were terrified of confession, having to go into a dark musty dock and wait for the little hatch to slide back over the grille, and sense rather than see the priest. 'I was bold, told lies and disobeyed my parents' came rushing out, and then the absolution and escape.

"My daughter, by contrast, sat beside the parish priest to the side of the altar, swinging her legs to and fro and beaming at him and at the first confession congregation of proud parents.

"She seemed equally unfazed by the body of Christ, accepting it into her satin gloved hand with none of the sense of awe and wonderment that I seem to remember we were expected to feel. Where I can remember being shy and fearful, Kate and her friends were full of fun and joy at the church, just bursting with confidence, looking forward to a big day ahead.

"On my day I remember a small party in the school and then visits to neighbours where scrunched-up notes were pressed into hands . . . Some girls went out to lunch and the zoo was also a big thing (Golly bars only, in case the dress got dirty).

"The neighbourhood round isn't so common any more. Instead, the neighbours may be invited in for champagne, or a sit-down lunch, while a bouncy castle is de rigueur.

Kate, of course, got lots of money into her drawstring bag, but she was most thrilled with her godmother's present, a silver cross and chain. I was sad to see how little her rosary beads and prayer book meant to her.

But I'm glad that she got the day that she wanted."

Orna Mulcahy

Orna Mulcahy

Orna Mulcahy, a former Irish Times journalist, was Home & Design, Magazine and property editor, among other roles