Wedded Bliss, Holy Matrimony, What The Eff Ever

David Tutera, you've created a monster

Yesterday was supposedly a big day for weddings, the date 10/10/10 signifying the couple in question would have a “perfect 10 marriage’. Accordingly, I was going to post a feminist rant about the capitalist drive of the wedding industry, how absurd receptions are and complain about the ongoing myth of the perfect wedding dress.

But who the fuck am I kidding, I love this shit.

Part of me knows the whole “you don’t find the dress, the dress finds you” is fairy-tale marketing at its best and I buy into it wholeheartedly. As a girl I never spent a second thinking about my dream wedding but now that I’m 22 and still single (that’s right Frenemy, not single for the past 3 years but ETERNALLY SINGLE) boy am I catching up in full force. Not that I plan to be getting married soon, or probably ever. But it’s just so good watching these completely everyday people go through what I’ve come to understand is a year and a half of torture to pull together the perfect day.

It’s not that I envy these bedazzled brides their supposed eternal bliss or their day of spectacle. In fact, I would hate to be at most of these weddings: unless David Tutera is throwing pixie dust and 10Gs at your special day, there’s no way your tacky pirate theme is going to pan out honey, but watching the spectacle from my couch is entrancing. I’m amazed at how much people are willing to spend on a single day in their lives, and at the things that have become de rigueur at ceremonies and receptions.

Here’s a list of why huge weddings are dumb but I love them anyway!

Videographers. First of all, why is it that perfectly normal, unremarkable people suddenly decide they have become celebrities for a day and thus require a personal force of paparazzo to get in there on the dance floor and take an awkward hand-held video of people who are not used to being on camera? You know that tape will only bring pain and humiliation for everyone involved 10 years from now. Even the adorable six-year-old popping, locking and dropping like her newly wed mamma taught her.

Entrances and Exits. I don’t know where the thing of pulling away with a bunch of tin cans tied to your bumper came from but it’s in the Betty Boop Cinderella short I watched all the time as a kid, so I’ll accept it. What I do not accept is someone buying a motorcycle and sidecar so he (who did not know how to drive a motorcycle) and his bride could pull up to the reception like a Betty Boop cartoon. Get over yourselves.

Entertainment. I am all for having a live band or extremely well-behaved DJ on hand so everyone can dance. But it seems that the spectacle of the reception has gone waaaayyy beyond that. To the point where people are brining in bellydancers or fire-eaters or barbershop quartets. I suppose it’s nice for the guests to get something after coughing up for your registry at Neimans, but personally I just want to have some damn good cake, an open bar, and several eligible groomsmen.

Randy getting randy. It's too easy

And finally. The Dress. Now, it’s very true that if you have a weird body shape or disproportionate shoulders there are probably a few right dresses and very many completely terribly wrong ones. Congratulations for navigating the waters and finding something that fits your deformed body, I am truly touched. If you are a tall, thin bride with perfectly clear skin and a rich daddy: EVERYTHING WILL LOOK AMAZING ON YOU STOP BEING SURPRISED AT HOW GORGEOUS YOU ARE AND HOW FABULOUS YOUR LIFE WILL BE. Ahem. But seriously, pick anything and let me gape at the self-professed hunter who flew in all the way from South Dakota to find the perfect dress at Kleinfelds. Randy is going to freak the freak outta her.

If you need me I’ll be on the Jcrew weddings site, musing the probability of me being eaten by my own cats as a 60-year-old spinster.

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