I seem to be the only one here wearing a hat. Maybe hats are a thing of the past. I thought every woman wore a hat to a wedding. How times have changed!
I can hardly take it off and leave it sitting on the pew. Besides, my hair is done to fit the hat. Hair and hat – they go together. I must stick out like a sore thumb.
You’d think the woman at Women’s Wear Ware would’ve told me about not wearing a hat. I suppose she wanted a sale. My suit is lovely. As the woman said in the shop, “This is really you. It suits you like you were born to wear it.” To which I responded with, “And what about a matching hat?” And now I’m the only one wearing a hat.
The handbag was another story. I can see a few women here with handbags. They’re clutching them like their lives depended on it. No one is going to put their handbag on the pew seat behind them. There are sticky fingers everywhere, even in a church. Of course a large number of women don’t have a handbag. These days women’s clothes seem to have pockets. But I always thought on more formal occasions such as a wedding, that a hat and handbag were vital accessories. Apparently these days I’m wrong.
I do feel overdressed. When you look at some of the get-ups that some of the guests are wearing, you wonder. They could at least have made a small effort to dolly themselves up. That one over there looks like she’s wearing her petticoat on the outside. I wouldn’t put it past her boyfriend, if that’s her boyfriend she’s with, you never know these days, to wear his grundies on the outside of his jeans. They don’t call them grundies any more – I believe it’s Australian. I don’t have a clue what they’re called these days – ever since my divorce. These days I don’t have to go buying grundies for the lazy sod.
Goodness! The bride and groom are about to exit down the aisle. I seem to have missed the vows. That’s a shame. It’s not every day ones daughter gets married.
Karen’s mother and I have been estranged for about twenty years. Karen was only three when Samantha packed up and left. She wanted nothing to do with Karen. Now suddenly it’s all lights and bubbles.
Karen’s about to get married – this very day in fact – and as soon as an engagement was announced Samantha appeared out of the woodwork and began organizing things. Karen wanted a small quiet wedding; Samantha wanted it big. Karen wanted it in a little country church; Samantha wanted it in a sprawling garden. Karen wanted to wear something new and lovely that she could use as Sunday best after the wedding (we’re not particularly well-off); Samantha wanted a full-scale wedding gown. Karen thought little home-made cupcakes could be fun; Samantha wanted a three-tiered wedding cake. The list went on and on.
Of course Karen tried to be nice. She tried to steer convivially between her own wishes and the demands of her mother. Not particularly successfully I must admit. The wedding is today. It’s meant to be outside. It’s meant to be with an extravagant wedding gown. It’s meant to cater for at least two hundred people. The mother of the bride has a new hat. And a new dress. And a new handbag.
Anyway, I’m happy to say it looks like it’s raining. In fact it’s currently hosing down. And I’ve just got a text message from Karen and Gilbert. They got married yesterday in a registry office before leaving for their honeymoon.
Joffre’s fifth marriage was no straight forward affair. The thirteen children from his previous four marriages were still living with their respective mothers. He wanted his children there, but who would bring them and look after them at the wedding? The last thing he wanted was his four ex-wives blotting the landscape and making facetious comments about his blushing bride twenty-three years his junior.
Joffre conceived a plan. He would invite all four ex-wives. Three of them so detested him that they would not attend. The fourth, Mabel, would come – she had always been non-confrontational – and she could look after the thirteen children.
And there she was! In the front seat with the thirteen children! She looked wonderful in her peacock-hued dress with cap sleeve bodice and floral organza skirt. And she wore tinted contact lenses to match. So capable! So calm! So ravishingly perfect in every way! Such taste in fashion! And Joffre knew she would have made the outfit herself. He should never have left her. A reunification was surely a possibility.
Let’s hope the rumours were true, and that his bride was having an affair with one of the bridesmaids.