My best friend's Wedding (Part 2)

My best friend’s Wedding – Part 2

Published on Oct 30, 2016

Titanic, Bikini, Dancing and Pop videos?

Oh my God, just when you think things can’t get any worse, they take a Titanic nose dive further into depths, far further than you ever imagined. Honestly, this bloody wedding – it’s hi-jacking a year of my life and it’s not even my big day. Resolution: When or if I ever get to this happy state myself, the fiancée and I are eloping and I’m getting married bikini-clad a la Pamela Anderson on the beach.

Anyhow, nothing can be further from Marina’s mind. So now, while she’s considering making her own wedding invitations, she has also decided that rather than a first dance, she and Phil should give their guests a mini musical extravaganza which not only involves the new Mr & Mrs but the best man and chief bridesmaid. Has she gone stark raving mad? Will our friendship ever make it to the aisle? You know, it’s all in the balance, it really is.

I blame all those daft ‘make your own pop video’ hen parties that we’ve been exposed to of late, and yes, the bloody Internet. Get on YouTube and start looking at wedding first dances, this only ricochets Bridezillas everywhere into a state of advanced competition. “Oh that couple from Ohio, they looked liked planks”, she slurs over her white wine one Saturday evening.” Did you see that couple from Devon, Oh my God, they were amazing, they really surprised everyone, they started a boring waltz and then dropped into Thriller, the Can can, the time warp, the YMCA, the locomotion, the twist and ended up with the big finale from Dirty Dancing. ENOUGH is ENOUGH. No, no, no.

I leave.

Two days later a contrite and sheepish Marina texts to say she has found a first dance ballroom dance teacher who is going to put them through their paces to their favourite song. Thank God good sense has prevailed, but there are weeks and weeks still left to go. It’s not clear whether she or I will unravel first.

Do the Bustle!

What is it about a wedding dress that is so seductive? I mean, I’m not even the bride, I have never fantasised about (potentially) my own wedding dress yet, going into the three boutiques that Marina had chosen was really…well…exciting.
I wanted to try on all the dresses but naturally had to settle for the role of chief cheerleader under the watchful eye of Marina’s mum, who somewhere under her St Tropez fake tan believes that Marina and I are still only 14.

Marina was in her element. Every fantasy you could wish for Elizabethan Marina; Georgian Marina; Ancient Greek Marina; Mermaid Marina; Lady Macbeth Marina; A-line Marina, column Marina, Prom Queen Marina, Princess Marina… my God, I could go on. That was it we did go on. Marina’s Mum was fussing and weeping in equal measure and then telling everyone over (and over) again about her own dress which apparently used the best French lace and was exactly like the one worn by Grace Kelly when she married Prince Rainier.

Anyhow, did you know that we owe the tradition of the white wedding dress to good old Queen Victoria who married her beloved Albert in the aforementioned shade? It was also at this marriage that bridesmaids for the first time carried the Quenn’s wedding dress train kicking off yet another tradition.

The wearing of whiter shades of pale is a symbol of innocence but because these pale shades are impractical, weren’t always the colours of choice. Did you know that Blue, associated with the garb of the Virgin Mary, was another a strong symbol of purity? It also symbolised fidelity and eternal love (hence the popularity of the sapphire in engagement rings). Brides who wore blue believed their husbands would always be true to them, so even if they weren’t wearing a blue frock, they would be sure to wear something blue about their person, which of course is another tradition that has survived to modern day.

Actually, there’s an old poem about wedding dress colours that I unearthed in my ongoing NVQ of bridesmaiding. It goes like this:
“Married in white, you will have chosen all right. Married in grey, you will go far away. Married in black, you will wish yourself back. Married in red, you’ll wish yourself dead. Married in blue, you will always be true. Married in pearl, you’ll live in a whirl.

Married in green, ashamed to be seen, married in yellow, ashamed of the fellow. Married in brown, you’ll live out of town. Married in pink, your spirits will sink.”

And it goes on…

The second Saturday of July is the official date of the nuptials of the century and 275 Save the Date cards have been sent out. So far so good. Christmas has come and gone and the all New Year celebrations seem to ride on the fact that it is finally The Year Of The Wedding!

From the announcement, that night all those months ago to lift off this coming July will be 15 months. Marina calls it a short engagement. “I used to imagine that I’d like to just run off and get married, you know elope,” said Marina in Starbucks one Saturday morning, “but you know, I can’t believe I could have been so selfish, a wedding is family thing, it’s for everyone including your friends.”

Marina’s wedding has passed into new territory. It’s not a celebration, it’s a quasi-spiritual event which everyone who partakes in it will be blessed, saved, happy. YUCK.YUCK.YUCK. To every excess she keeps saying, “After all, it’s the only wedding I’m going to have.” Well I’m not so sure about that lady because Marina when your husband divorces you six months after you tied the knot because all you talked about for a year and a half before you got married was the wedding and then all you talked about for three months after the wedding was the wedding, a man, well, even a reasonable one like Phil can get pretty well hacked off. Not to mention all your long, s-u-f-f-e-r-i-n-g friends.

I’m getting quite grouchy and can’t help the odd swipe at Bridezilla, except she’s so caught up in a veil of brideness that she doesn’t notice. I decide I’m being a witch from hell and remake my New Year’s Resolutions (two days after I made the first lot). I must be kind to Marina. Any animosity I feel towards her is all about me, rather than her. I MUST be more understanding.

To atone for being mean I must come up with a wedding idea. I am the chief bridesmaid after all and let’s face it – I’ve been pretty passive. Maybe, if I took hold of the reins a bit more, my life would be more peaceful.

I call Bride of the Year up with an idea. “Marina,” I say, “I’ve been thinking of wedding favours and rather than giving people sugared almonds or small photo frames why not go for a couple’s signature scent? You could give the guys a male fragrance and the girls a perfume, and what’s more it can be a fragrance that you and Phil design together, and your guests can keep as a fabulous reminder of a really special day. You can give it a name — it’ll be fab!”

Silence.

‘Oh my God,” she squeals. “What an amazing idea. Let me phone Phil. I’ll phone you later and you can tell me all about it. I knew you were the best choice for Chief Bridesmaid. You’re the best. I LOVE IT.”

Great.

I have only myself to blame.