It’s roughly two months to go to ‘The Day’, and it’s time for dressing up.We had the first fitting of ‘The Dress’ yesterday. This, I was assured, was not the real thing, but simply a mock up made from something resembling soft pliable cardboard.
Previous to this Jem, had been walking around the house wearing a white frilly under-garment-netting-thing, accompanied by a hybrid swimming costume tight fitting aerobic leotard on the top.
“Very nice, my darling, I think.” I was heard to say, foolishly under the impression that this was in some way an important layer of the Bridal outfit.
When I did see the first fitting, it was a relative triumph and there appeared to be a decent ‘glue to material’ ratio. I think we’re going to be ok here.
However, there is much discussion about the Mother of the Bride’s outfit and how little time there is to find it.
‘How long does it take to find a dress?’ I am thinking, quite often, out loud!!
What’s wrong with Primarne? It’s only got to work for the day!! Oh No! The designer websites are being investigated and the smell of burning plastic is already being detected from the computer search engines.
“How about this one?” she asks.
“You’ll need a tan,” I reply.
Loud sighs, harrumphs, and slamming doors, off stage. What did I say?
It does seem to be a very time consuming exercise to be worrying so much in advance, about something that you’re only going to wear once. My first wife’s dress of 35 years is still hanging in the wardrobe. It comes out every now and again but just like Cinderella’s slipper, there is no one in the land that will fit into it. The first and only wearer was so incredible slender that it raises gasps of wonder and admiration when making frequent guest appearances. The fact that she could ever wear it never mind keep it on for the entire day, is a wonder.*

We did discuss the idea of taking bits from it and everyone having a little piece to wear by way of ‘the ongoing journey’…. But I’m not sure if the mutilation that would ensue would be worth it. Certainly the remnants would look somewhat suspicious hanging up waiting for the grandchildren to ask the inevitable questions. And granddad would have to explain why Nana Cooke’s dress was in tatters, without any innuendo or unnecessary giggling; Not possible sadly.
I think we’re due for stage two of the fitting in a few weeks, but our dear Seamstress Jane assures us that the final will be done quite close to the wire, possibly the night before. Very rock and roll!

I am relieved to hear that there is no talk of morning suits, and the fiasco of hiring ridiculously ill fitting menswear. I Personally have never seen anyone looking good or comfortable in this sort of silly get up. (except of course at my wedding where my best man and I hired Rupert Bear brown tails and matching trousers; More cartoon retro than fashionable cool.)
But the stupid collars that are always loose and Victorian ties that don’t tie, bunching and hanging like badly made curtains; Half-mast flappy trousers, and Top Hats that are too comical for words, especially if you have big ears, and a fat head. The photo that follows of the groom and his merry men is one that does so often resemble a cross between a mister potato head competition and a Marx brother’s movie. Thankfully these are not to being included. The groom has hinted at a pastel suit?
‘Would that be one in a variety of colours dusted in a light sugar?’ I suggest quietly… (Start the car)

Meanwhile the quest for the MOTB outfit continues with the certainty that hats, shoes and accessories will certainly be discarded, swallowed dramatically in the black hole of the wardrobe and never seen again, before the final toast or the hangover begins to wears off.While all of this is going on in the master bedroom, with everything thrown from cupboards and wardrobes, and the whole place looking like an Oxfam shop Audit, I think I will have to slope off quietly and checkout a couple of bijou Covent Garden stalls. My personal brief will be an appropriate Paul Smith FOTB number that will double up as a half decent gig outfit for the next tour. I will take pictures just in case.
At least I’ll promise to wear it out until the pants are shiny and baggy and the jacket loses its fashion statement (Nothing new there then.)
The countdown continues, as does the budget.
Wish me luck.

* Since writing this, I asked the first wife if she would see if the original dress still fitted. Not surprisingly, it did, along with the elegant shoes, and I got permission to take a snap of her. Still looking good Mrs.Cooke!
(Perhaps you could wear this to the Wedding?)