I received an urgent-sounding message early on Friday from a friend in Washington.
“Do you have a red coat with a blue sash?”
I answered that I did not so maybe I’d have to go shopping.
In case there’s anyone who doesn’t get the reference, Prince William wore a bright red, regimental jacket with orange cuffs and a blue sash for his wedding to Kate Middleton Friday morning.
My friend was suggesting I consider a similar outfit for my own wedding.
It’s highly unlikely. Moreover, the bride won’t be swathed in Chantilly lace or sporting a vintage tiara.
My fiancée and I are getting a lot of advice from our friends about our wedding ever since we let it be known that we’re having one. Some of it is serious, some not so much.
Originally, we’d decided on a small and informal affair. It’s not the first wedding for either of us.
Actually, we were going to elope and then throw a big party later.
But as we discussed what we wanted to do, the idea of a formal wedding took hold and slowly grew bigger and grander. (We figured we owed it to ourselves. I mean how many times do you get married? Three or four times tops?)
Our friends have been good enough to give our plans thoughtful consideration before telling us that they won’t work.
Our idea of having the wedding in the backyard garden won’t do because it’s not big enough to accommodate the numbers we want to invite.
So the wedding’s moving to Amish country and the second home of close friends who graciously offered its use.
The food is being catered by another friend. He’s a talented chef, and we’re grateful that he offered to create the menu.
But I worry that he was motivated by fears that, left on our own, we might serve our guests aerosol cheese on crackers and little wieners on toothpicks washed down with Mountain Dew. (For the record, we’d never pair Mountain Dew with cheese in a can. We’re not Philistines.)
Most recently the bride-to-be told me that a friend had offered to do the flowers for the reception. It seemed like a wonderfully generous gesture. I wouldn’t want that responsibility. What if I chose something noxious and killed a guest? You can’t revive a party after something like that.
We haven’t formalized what we’re going to wear yet, but I’d be stunned if our dearest friends didn’t have some thoughts on the topic.
There are, however, some decisions we’re reserving for ourselves.
We’ve chosen the clergyman who will officiate, and we’re keeping him under wraps until the big day.
We’re also ordering the cake, and we’re not telling anyone what it is because I don’t want anyone advising me that peanut butter frosting is inappropriate for a wedding.
The music also will be our choice exclusively.
People still frug, right?
Irv Dean is the Gazette’s city editor. Reach him by email to [email protected].
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