Here’s
a tip: if you’re pregnant and know
you’re expecting a girl, start saving for her wedding now. Tip 2: if you live
in New York or similar over-priced city, move. And if you want to know why I’m
not promoting any recent books, here’s the reason….
In
January, 2016, my daughter and her boyfriend of four years announced they were
getting married. Great news! An intimate dinner for twelve was arranged at a
small restaurant downtown, just immediate family—an idea I hoped might take root in the next
phase of this development. When things didn’t look like they were going my way,
I did suggest the Chapel of the Transfiguration in Wyoming for the wedding, a
beautiful setting that would reduce the number of invitation acceptances.
Apparently, it was just a little too difficult to get to. About one third are
coming from England, and the groom’s half are flying in from Colombia. So, the
search for an NYC venue was on, and Cristal, my baby, narrowed it down to three
spots. This was
just February, 2016, and the date we were looking for was Memorial Weekend,
2017—a holiday of some nature in all three countries. Spot #1 was an ‘In’ hotel
in Brooklyn, which I felt was a little too minimalist; spot #2 was a brewery
that does weddings with family-style seating—not what I was looking for. But like the three bears, spot #3 was just
right—an old stone mill, set in the NY Botanical Gardens. Thing was, even with sixteen months to go, the
Saturday was already taken. Soooo, wedding on Sunday suits us: gives invitees a day to recover jet lag.
Next
came the choice of photographer. Yup, these guys are booked well in
advance. The happy couple went through a
series of on-line searches, looking at photos of other happy couples (one
presumes they are still happy) before presenting me with a choice of three
photographers. Luckily, we all agreed on the finalist.
Next
up was music. There are three sections of the event that have to have music—the
cocktail hour with the ceremony, which is going to be very low key and casual,
no bridesmaids, no aisle, just an exchange of vows. Part two is the dinner, and
part three, of course, is party time. So there I was, listening to endless
groups, reading reviews of djs Cristal had researched, and needing earplugs and
a silent room by the end of the day. But we got there without ever leaving the
couch. No crashing of other weddings to
see how the music sounded, no late nights clubbing to the tunes of some dj.
With thanks to the miracle of the Internet, music is now booked.
Not
so lucky with the florist, sadly. Again, Cristal narrowed it down to three
after Internet searches but visits were a must for in-person discussions. One vendor she nixed after a phone
conversation. Another we visited but never got back to us. Thankfully, after
traipsing out of town to visit the third, this one proved to be absolutely on
the same wavelength as us and has previously dealt with the NYBG. Bingo!
And
so—the dress! First of all, NY bridal salons have to be booked about 4 to 6
weeks in advance. Keep that in mind.
Second, if you happen to be writing comedy, you can not do better than to visit
a NYC bridal salon. Something happens to
a young woman when told she can spend x amount on a dress and that ‘this is
your day, dear.’ All reason not only flies out the window, but good taste
apparently latches on and leaves with it.
I sat in the waiting area of three different salons watching feathered
birds of various species walk by, often followed by bejeweled gowns so heavy,
the bride was going to need a forklift truck to get her down the aisle. You
learn the terms very quickly, too:
mermaid, fit-and-flare, A-line, draped. Our ‘vendeuse’ must have found
us the most boring pair to ever set foot inside Kleinfelds. While families
often traipse in from as far afield as California or Texas, sixteen people in
tow, here was this mother and daughter duo wanting something that didn’t leave
Cristal looking like either Carmen Miranda in white or a meringue. We were
successful.
And then there’s the invitation. If you think this is something simple to sort
out, think
again.
An invitation entails, first of all, wording—just first names, or two names, or
all of them (my daughter has 2 middle names for reasons I won’t bother
explaining; Daniel, in the Spanish tradition, has two last names); and how
should the parents be included, or not? Font. Color of ink. Weight of card.
Type of printing—thermography, foil-pressed, letter pressed, raised ink, and so
on. Color of edging. Envelope liner. Back of invitation. R.S.V.P. I’m sure I’m
forgetting something. And then
calligraphy for the envelope. The trusty
Internet coughed up a fabulous printer in Buenos Aires and a calligrapher in
Utah. UPS is wonderful.
The
bridal shower was yesterday at a friend’s apartment, a luncheon for fourteen of
the city-dwelling invitees. Went off like a dream.
Pass
me the valium and I might make it to May.
For
western romances without so many hurdles in getting to the aisle, check out https://andreadowning.com/
