Pam was the mother of the groom. She had found the bride’s mother loud and offensive. She had tried to be polite in the weeks leading up to the wedding but she might as well have been talking to a brick wall.
“The bridesmaids will be wearing pale blue. Try to wear something to match colour-wise. And try to be a little fashionable. The shoes you wore to Denise’s wedding were abominable. This is my daughter’s wedding; try not to spoil it.”
Pam smiled politely, but the bride’s mother’s remarks had cut her to the quick. It was after all her son’s wedding too. Of course she wanted to look her best. Pam planned her outfit meticulously. She didn’t want to upstage the bride and she wasn’t exactly made of money.
The wedding day came. The bride’s mother arrived looking like she was a transgender heading for a strip show at a children’s library. Pam arrived in a simple dark green skirt with a pale cream blouse and with gold-painted wooden Swedish clogs and a straw sunhat. It was different and stuck out a mile, and yet she looked stunning. It was exactly right.
A few talked about the bride. No one talked about the bride’s mother. Everyone was gobsmacked by the simplicity and sheer beauty of the groom’s mother. When an inebriated bride’s mother accidentally spilled red wine all over her daughter’s wedding dress, the bride’s mother declared: “Don’t fret. Ask Pam if she’s got a spare set of gardening clothes.” No one laughed. Pam never viewed the wedding as a competition, but the bride’s mother knew that Pam had won the day.
A very pretty wedding was celebrated at the Presbyterian Church on Wednesday when William Harold, third son of Mr. and Mrs. G.V. Gilbert was married to Olive Maud, the youngest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Tommy Stevenson.
The bride, who entered the church attended by her father, was daintily attired in a frock of ivory georgette with pearl trimmings over shell pink crepe de chine with a beautiful lace veil forming a train.
Following the ceremony, the reception was held at the Carlton dining rooms, where the bride’s mother, Mrs. Stevenson, was stunningly gowned in navy blue georgette over sateen and carried a bouquet to tone. In comparison, the groom’s mother, Mrs. Gilbert, looked quite dumpy in her ruby coloured crepe de chine with bronze trimmings, and hat and shoes that didn’t really match. You’d think she had just come in from weeding the garden. Why people without taste don’t get proper advice in style is beyond me. Honestly, it doesn’t auger well for the bride and groom when their respective mothers’ sense of fashion is so widely incongruent.
The newlyweds left by train for the south where the honeymoon will be spent. But honest to goodness, given the fashion disparity, I can’t see the marriage lasting longer than four months.