After I had been properly engaged, with a rock large enough to catch eyes from across a room, Alley, Teel and I had the rather brilliant idea to make the wedding our class project. We had the assignment of doing a presentation on something that is representative of British Culture. What better than a British Wedding? After all, Will and Kate's wedding had captivated millions around the world why shouldn't mine? I'm kidding of course, but I was excited to be a Bride. In order to fully immerse myself in the role of 'Bride to Be', I did what any ordinary woman would do, and shopped for my wedding dress. As much as I would have loved to jet over to Vera Wang and get a proper gown, the logical side of my brain reminded me that this Wedding was just a rouse, and not in fact the real thing. I made the rational decision to head over to top shop, where sales were over 50%, and lucky for me, I found the gown! I would glide down the aisle in a whimsical one shoulder pure white gown, with a net see through back from the skirt up. Though I've had my heart set on a sweet-heart neckline satin ivory Lazarro ballgown with Swaravski crystal embellishments on the bust line for the real deal, this would do for now. Fortunately, it's sale season in London, so I couldn't pass up finding some shoes to match my new dress. I found a lovely pair of strappy sandal heels, white with crystals on the straps, and matched my dress perfectly. Now that I had the dress and shoes, the wedding was on-for sure. All I needed was a groom. Details, details...
Before I found a groom, Teel and Alley insisted (and I did not object) on having a hen party- a traditional British bachelorette party where the bride went out with her girlfriends, all in costumes, to celebrate the bride to be entering the vortex of marriage. Perhaps they were savoring their last moments with their soon to be not so single friend, or maybe they were just looking for an excuse to get dressed up, and fucked up- who knows. My hen party would be a small celebration with my two maids of honor. We decided to go on a pub crawl in the nearby Camden Town (Where the late Amy Whinehouse lived and passed). We neglected to realize that perhaps a Tuesday night was not an ideal choice for a night on the town. In spite of the small crowds of regulars who were at the pubs, we had a grand old time celebrating with each other. We went on from our first stop to a nearby bar with live jazz. Little did we know that this is where our fun would truly begin.
We went straight to the bar and contemplated the special '6 shots for £14'. It was a pretty good deal, but with my halo and sash I was feeling like a true hen, and I decided to push my luck. I confidently went to the bar tender and exclaimed " I see you have a nice special, but you see, I'm getting married tomorrow, so I was wondering if you could give me a better offer?" As my confidence soared, thinking that I had just scored us 6 free shots, the bar tender replied with a smug "But it's a really good deal already!". I watched my confidence float down to the floor, while I bit my lower lip and looked back at my maids to make the decision. This was no way to treat a bride! We got the shots, and asked the bar tender to take a video of us taking them-for our project of course-and after he took the video, he neglected to charge us! Maybe he thought he already had, or maybe he had had too many drinks himself, but I wasn't about to ask any questions. I whipped the tequilla remnant off my lip and grinned with a sense of victory. This Bride Shenanigan had been working out pretty well for me.
A moment later, our fun really began to pick up. A rather sexy looking man in a fitted black longsleeved waffle shirt and jeans tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was getting married. "Yes!" I chanted, grinning from ear to ear. He put his hand on my arm and kissed both of my cheeks in typical Parisian fashion. I glanced down at the lie on my finger and began to feel regretful. My faux wedding may have just cost me a hot man! I kept the smile on my face and went on with the plan. Teel asked him if he was married, and I quickly peeked at his ring finger- no ring. He put his arm around his less attractive friend and said "We're getting married!" I chuckled as Teel Alley and I exchanged confused looks as if to say 'Seriously?!'. I actually would have been happier had they been telling the truth, and been really gay, because then I wouldn't have to continue to hit myself over the head for marring myself as taken. But alas, he was of course joking. Damnit. He congratulated me again and he and his friend left. Alley, Teel and I went to a bar across the street soonafter, and realized we had just missed out on a great opportunity. We just met two, well one, attractive man and his mate, they seem nice, they could have bought us drinks. Drat. We notice they are still sitting across the street. It's now or never. I hesitate, thinking that they may in fact be sleezy scum bags, but Teel trots across the street and approaches them. Shit.What are we getting ourselves into.
Teel politely asks them if they have any reccomendations of places to go, and they invite us to join them on their pub crawl. Perfect! What more could I want then to spend the night with two strangers to shower me with complements and alcoholic beverages. The George Clooney look-alike linked arms with Teel, and the lesser of the two linked with Alley and I, and we were off. In going along with the lies, Alley and I had alias names, Heidi and Franny respectively, and fake background stories. I was an interior designer from New York, and my hubby to be- Simon- was a wealthy microbiologist from London. Not too far removed from the truth- I am from New York, love design, and Alleys boss is Simon. Alley was a pharmacist at the Hospital Simon works at, and she introduced us, and the rest is history. Teel of course couldn't tell a lie, and was her plain old self.
We soon learned that Mr. Handsome was from Rome and lived all over the world as his father was a Diplomat, and his friend the troll was from Brazil and was just visiting.They met in school, as The Brazilian's father worked for the UN, and they both attended international primary schools around the world. Now that we knew what we were dealing with, we could have some fun. The Roman took us to another bar, where he proceeded to buy us all drinks. Thank you very much. We talked about the Wedding, Simon, my pretend-career. When he mentioned he was also an artist, I was sure I'd be figured out in an instant. He went on about Chinese design and I nodded and smiled. I responded by saying I specialized in French Colonial design, and quickly saved my lying ass. While the Brazilian was pushing his luck with Alley (now Heidi), Alley's patience was dwindling fast. Teel on the other hand was smitten with the Roman, as they chatted away about their actual lives.
We went on to the next pub, where the Roman offered to buy us another round. Alley and I passed, as we were ready to call it a night. I was getting married the next day, after all. We then got into a heated discussion with the Roman about American culture versus European culture. He persistently tried to convince us that we are too rigid and should loosen up and act more European. We tried to explain that we are New Yorkers, and New Yorkers always have a guard up. He assured us that he was the nicest safest person in the world, yet I could see right past that sexy gray streak in his jet black hair. I wanted to shout at him, you can take the girl out of New York, but you can't take the New York out of the girl! As the discussion grew to an argument, we were ready to go. After agreeing to disagree, we hailed a cab and headed home. We all needed our beauty sleep, anyway.
Wednesday morning came, and we were all thrilled for the big day. Our double session of class dragged on, as we awaited the grand affair that was to come. I had hoped that they sky would hold up and not give us the daily dump of rain that I had been so used to after 6 weeks in London. With my hair in rollers, and a fresh slab of makeup on my face, I was nearly ready for the big day. I finished my hair with a bit of flowers from my bouquet (yes, that I arranged myself-something no self respecting bride should ever have to do), and a white feather hairpiece, and smeared a bit of lipstick on my lips. Ready to go. My maids of honer were dressed in a deep violet, both saten dresses that fell just above the knee. Coincidentally, I had a purple Marc Jacobs dress the exact same color and material of a dress Teel's grandma sent her this summer. Perfect! We strutted off to Regents park for the wedding. The only thing we were missing was the Groom. Despite our best efforts to secure a groom for the big day, we failed to find a suitable candidate. I can't say I'm entirely surprised. I have been known to have terribly high standards. Not to mention the time crunch. But alas, we strolled through the Queen's Gardens, getting congratulatory remarks from passerbies, and I truly felt like a Bride.
I had hoped I didn't jinx my future wedding. I thought back to the many times I would catch myself looking at other peoples left finger- seeing small rings, large rocks, ugly designs, and beautiful cuts, and I would wonder if they were actually married, or just fooling themselves. As I looked down at my finger, I realized that my ring was as fake as this fairy tale wedding. But despite all the white lies and conjured love stories, we sure had a hell of a good time.
Cheers.
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