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On veils and parties
For those of you who really couldn't care less about wedding dresses, ignore the following:
I wasn't sure whether I wanted to wear a veil in my wedding or not. They have all that nasty patriarchal baggage attached, of course. Although I'm not sure how much that even bothered me - after all, this is the age of reinventing meanings to suit ourselves, isn't it? Maybe more importantly, most veils I'd seen tended to smother hair. And I have a lot of hair. Kind of a defining characteristic. It seemed a shame to hide it all under a cloud of tulle. I didn't want a huge puff, I didn't want a tiara. Maybe a nice crown of flowers or an elegant up-do or something.
I went wedding dress shopping this weekend. Started at the little boutique I'd bought my prom dress from. I liked them because they were small and attentive and helpful. It took me awhile to get into it, actually - at first glance, the dresses in their plastic bags, sagging off hangers, all looked the same, and all looked unattractive and boring. I finally chose a few, almost haphazardly, to try on.
The first was most definitely not The Dress. The neckline would have been pretty, if it had not been three sizes to big (wedding dress samples only come in one size - they either pin you into them or shut the back with pinned bits of elastic). It was this straight skirt with a huge train tacked on - not at all what I'd pictured. My first thought was something along the lines of "Umm....no." And then the saleslady pinned the veil into my hair. And the dress, and me in it, was transformed. It looked beautiful. I looked beautiful. I looked like a bride. I'd heard of this magical transformation before - people saying that it didn't seem real until they saw themselves in a veil - but hadn't really believed it. It's weird, but true. Something about it softens all the edges. Every movement I made - even almost falling off the podium - seemed graceful. And I'm not the most graceful of people. But the veil just kind of softed all the jerky motions, swishing around my shoulders.
I don't have a dress yet. But I know what veil I want.
We had a lovely theme party Sunday evening. "It's...Green." (Bonus points to those not at the party who get the reference.) We served grasshoppers, which proved again why they're my favorite cocktail. Delicious, refreshing, and an absolutely bizarre color. All the food was green-themed - celery, cucumbers, broccoli, and green peppers with ranch dressing, kiwi and honeydew, guacamole, sour cream and onion, and hint-of-lime chips. And the cake.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chuckro has a superhero cake pan from when he was a little kid. It's got the pecs and cape and belt and everything. Well, we made a cake and I frosted it to look like the Martian Manhunter. ('Cause he's green.) I even made sure he had the prominant eyebrow ridges and a nose made from dollops of frosting. I did it from memory - when I checked later, I realized to my chagrin that I'd made his cape red instead of blue. Oh well. He still looked great, and was a total hit. Highlight of the party was the battle over who got to eat which part. ("I want the head!" "Ooh, can I have his heart!" "I've got an arm here! Who wants an arm?")
Geeky goodness at its best. I love my friends. You all rock.
I wasn't sure whether I wanted to wear a veil in my wedding or not. They have all that nasty patriarchal baggage attached, of course. Although I'm not sure how much that even bothered me - after all, this is the age of reinventing meanings to suit ourselves, isn't it? Maybe more importantly, most veils I'd seen tended to smother hair. And I have a lot of hair. Kind of a defining characteristic. It seemed a shame to hide it all under a cloud of tulle. I didn't want a huge puff, I didn't want a tiara. Maybe a nice crown of flowers or an elegant up-do or something.
I went wedding dress shopping this weekend. Started at the little boutique I'd bought my prom dress from. I liked them because they were small and attentive and helpful. It took me awhile to get into it, actually - at first glance, the dresses in their plastic bags, sagging off hangers, all looked the same, and all looked unattractive and boring. I finally chose a few, almost haphazardly, to try on.
The first was most definitely not The Dress. The neckline would have been pretty, if it had not been three sizes to big (wedding dress samples only come in one size - they either pin you into them or shut the back with pinned bits of elastic). It was this straight skirt with a huge train tacked on - not at all what I'd pictured. My first thought was something along the lines of "Umm....no." And then the saleslady pinned the veil into my hair. And the dress, and me in it, was transformed. It looked beautiful. I looked beautiful. I looked like a bride. I'd heard of this magical transformation before - people saying that it didn't seem real until they saw themselves in a veil - but hadn't really believed it. It's weird, but true. Something about it softens all the edges. Every movement I made - even almost falling off the podium - seemed graceful. And I'm not the most graceful of people. But the veil just kind of softed all the jerky motions, swishing around my shoulders.
I don't have a dress yet. But I know what veil I want.
We had a lovely theme party Sunday evening. "It's...Green." (Bonus points to those not at the party who get the reference.) We served grasshoppers, which proved again why they're my favorite cocktail. Delicious, refreshing, and an absolutely bizarre color. All the food was green-themed - celery, cucumbers, broccoli, and green peppers with ranch dressing, kiwi and honeydew, guacamole, sour cream and onion, and hint-of-lime chips. And the cake.
chuckro has a superhero cake pan from when he was a little kid. It's got the pecs and cape and belt and everything. Well, we made a cake and I frosted it to look like the Martian Manhunter. ('Cause he's green.) I even made sure he had the prominant eyebrow ridges and a nose made from dollops of frosting. I did it from memory - when I checked later, I realized to my chagrin that I'd made his cape red instead of blue. Oh well. He still looked great, and was a total hit. Highlight of the party was the battle over who got to eat which part. ("I want the head!" "Ooh, can I have his heart!" "I've got an arm here! Who wants an arm?")Geeky goodness at its best. I love my friends. You all rock.
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By the way, your green party sounds awesome. ;) We have a friend here who was pretty much obsessed with green drinks all summer (not sure why)...so we got some of that here, too. :)
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If there's a similar experience for a groom, I haven't hit it yet. But then, I suspect there isn't one--it seems like an instance of the stereotypical strong difference in the male and female mindsets.
The fact that the trappings of engagement and weddings are mostly in the bride's purview (engagement ring, pretty dress, her special daaaaay, etc) probably goes a long way towards this. I never bought into the "women like stability, men like freedom" sound bite (which implies that men hate marriage and need to be roped into it), but the grand wedding celebration and the bridal-industrial complex are obviously driven by women.
The man by tradition gets to show up in a tux, spend a lot of money, and have a final night of debautchery with his buddies. [For the non-Jethrien readers: the LAN party that will be my bachelor party is already being planned.] Not quite the same.
Nonetheless, I'm hoping that I get an epiphany of feeling like a groom sometime before I notice I'm wearing a ring everyday and feeling like a married man.
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Do they get to choose their rock?
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1: On her day, the bride is the most important and most special person in the world.
2: The groom, along with all other men, is interchangable.
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I know, not the same.
It does suck. But you can definitely trace it historically. After all, once upon a time, this was the one day a woman was terribly important at all. It was the day her entire life was leading up to until that point, the sum of her life ambitions. From that day forth, her entire identity (since she gave up her name and ability to hold property) was defined by the man she married.
For the guy, it was a day. His name did not change, his social position altered slightly but not significantly, his legal status didn't change. If he didn't get married, he was a little odd, but lost no social standing or ability to work.
Things are different now. But according to etiquette, I still get referred to as "Mrs. Hisfirst Hislast" in formal situations. Even after he's dead.
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/my two cents.
OKay, this is something I KNOW about...
(I remember one shoot which was going on forever and I was wilting and it was showing, and the photographer told me to visualize:
"It's your wedding day, and you've snagged the richest guy in the state, he is standing right over there in a very sexy Tux and you are planning the Honeymoon Nights activities and you just got a great idea that will f**k his brains out!!!" And I remember blushing so damn hard when a random idea floated through, that we had to wrap the shoot for the day 'cause it was showing and I went to pieces laughing... He got a few shots off that I will treasure to my dying day!!! I have this incredibly randy look on my face (and will NEVER be published!))
Re: OKay, this is something I KNOW about...
I actually have looked at a bunch of magazines and stuff, and I have some ideas of what I like and what looks good on me. But some things look good on models and not me, so there's some trial and error here. That, and I need to find a dress I like that's not $3,000 or something. It's my wedding dress, yes, but it's just one day.
I have a fall-back dress now, though. I found one that I'm not totally in love with, but could be happy with. If I get sick of searching and haven't found something better, I'll go back and get that one.