Hilary and Travis have decided on their honeymoon. They are going on a cruise to Alaska, jumping off from Vancouver.
According to the experts at the Knot, among the things that you should consider taking on a honeymoon is a Swiss Army knife (Page 185, The Knot Book of Wedding Lists). I don't get this, and I wouldn't recommend taking it on a plane, but I supppose if you come upon a Kodiak bear, it's better than nothing.
Hilary went with Travis to get his tux ordered. I don't have a lot of details because I wasn't along. But if you're keeping score at home, you can cross that off the list.
I have a tux but it doesn't fit me yet. I have four months to remedy that.
I mentioned in the last post that going to a bridesmaid fitting would be good field research for anthropology students. Heh heh.
Then I found out who actually might be qualified to do this. Over at Wake Forest's Museum of Anthropology in Winston-Salem is a new exhibit called "Ties that Bind: Wedding Customers from around the World." It opened Jan. 25 and runs through May 3.
This is from the museum site:
"The exhibit was developed by Lydia Dorsey, a senior anthropology major at Wake Forest, under the instruction of Beverlye Hancock, the museum curator. It includes traditional outfits and other items from the Hmong culture in Thailand, the Maasai culture in Kenya and many other cultures around the world. The exhibit shows how weddings and the connections they create are essential to social stability and continuity.
The wedding costumes in the exhibit are on loan from Ten Thousand Villages in Greensboro. Items from the museum’s collections are also incorporated in the exhibit.
In conjunction with the exhibit, Wendy Leeds-Hurwitz, author of “Wedding as Text: Communicating Cultural Identities through Ritual,” will present a lecture at 7:30 p.m. April 3. Leeds-Hurwitz is professor of communication at the University of Wisconsin at Parkside. The event is free and open to the public."
If you want to learn more, go here.
There's nothing here about doing research at David's Bridal, though, so that area is still up for grabs.
I went shopping with my daughter and her bridesmaids for their gowns yesterday.
Pause for a moment to take in that sentence.
I can tell you that if I wasn't doing this blog, I would not be writing that sentence. Not that there's anything wrong with going to a bridesmaid fitting, but that it's not something that in the span of a geologic era that I would ask to attend. It wouldn't occur to me. It would be like me asking to go to .... what's the most improbable thing I can think of ...... an expedition up the south face of Annapurna. Yes. The south face of Annapurna.
But this blog is a demanding master. It must be fed. And so when I heard some weeks ago of the impending expedition to David's Bridal, I began quietly lobbying to be included. My overtures were not received enthusiastically, but Hilary eventually agreed, being the sport that she is.
Even yesterday, however, she asked several of the bridesmaids if it would be ok, and they said yes. Maybe they were just being polite. Maybe it was the fact that I was standing there looking hopeful.
I had heard about these things. Where I grew up, in Boston, there was Filene's Basement. Twice a year, there would the Sale, when bridal gowns would be seriously mahhked down, and young women would line up at the door, many of them in leotards so they could quickly try on as many dresses as possible. One wag in the press said it reminded him of the Running of the Bulls at Pamplona, such that it became known in Massachusetts as the Running of the Brides. It was not uncommon for there to be pushing and shoving in the aisles, as young women from Swampscott and Quincy scrimmaged over the same to-die-for dress. TV stations would set up their cameras to capture the frenzy.
David's Bridal was not Filene's yesterday, but at 4:05 p.m. on a grey afternoon, it was jammed with young women in search of apparel for proms and weddings. In the front of the store were rows of dresses. In the back of the store were dressing rooms that were fronted by full-length mirrors.
We were a party of 13. There was my mother-in-law, Loraine from Clinton; my sister-in-law, Nancy and her daughters -- bridesmaids Ashley and Katie -- also from Clinton. There was the Clayton contingent -- Mallory, the maid of honor, and her mother, Stacy, and Mal's little sister; bridesmaids Amanda, Julianne, and Meghan. There were the nuptial mothers - my wife, Katherine and Travis' mom, Priscilla. And me.
The methodology was fairly straight-forward. Hilary had proposed that the bridesmaids could have different styles of gowns of the same color - red. The first objective was to find dresses of any color that were satisfactory, and then they would be ordered in red. So it wasn't necessary to find the right red dress on Saturday. That cleared up my confusion, because I kept seeing them try on dresses of all manner of hue.
For an hour or so, we had a fashion show. Bridesmaids would go into the dressing room and emerge. There was a lot of pulling and tugging, because the gowns fit here but didn't fit there.
The bridesmaids were very candid in their self-appraisals of what was working and what wasn't, and why. To the point where I had to inch away, out of earshot, because I realized this was the sort of thing that women talk about freely among themselves and should stay among themselves.
The moms would give their opinions. Back the bridesmaids would go into the dressing room. Pictures would be taken with digital cameras.
There were periodic group discussions.
I could see a consensus starting to form that maybe the original idea of different styles was losing its appeal in favor of one style, strapless. I think that Hilary, who is a born leader, was helping this consensus along. It is the mark of a good leader to recognize when a strategy must be abandoned.
I had been standing for a long time, and my back was hurting, so I pulled a chair up behind Meemaw, who was also sitting and taking it all in.
After about 90 minutes, it was over.
I tried last night and today to put in context what I had seen. I felt a certain deficiency, because I am not an anthropologist, but I am convinced that what I was seeing was a coming-of-age ritual in the back of the store. If I had been sitting next to a doctoral student, he would have exclaimed, Yes!, I have finally found my dissertation topic -- the bridesmaid gown fitting. I am guessing that graduate students have never seen the Hall of Mirrors at David's Bridal as a proper locus for field study, but they should.
Hilary and Travis are in the cake-buying phase. It looks like they are going with a five-layer deal with some kind of vanilla icing. This is more complicated than it looks. The Knot Book of Wedding Lists has a chapter devoted to the cake acquisition that is 12 pages long. These pages deal with: Size, shape, decorative details, flavor, ingredient restrictions, contracts, reference-checking, etc. According to the book, cakes can run from $400 to $8,000. And up.
Here are some questions recommended by The Knot that explain why wedding cake bakers often have to be medicated:
Can you provide a list of cake flavors and fillings? Can I alternate flavors by layer? How many people will work on my cake? How many wedding cakes do you handle per weekend? Can you provide a list of references?
And then, if there isn't enough to worry about, here's some of the cake-cutting checklist:
When will you cut the cake? 45 minutes before the end of the reception, or right after the plates are cleared?
Who will announce it? The DJ? The bandleader?
Will there be a toast?
Will there be cake-cutting music?
Which layer will you cut first?
How will the bride and groom feed each other? Fork? Hands?
Who will be designated to take the top tier home and freeze it? Mom? Dad? A top-tier cake freezer person professional? (I made the last one up, but who knows, there may be such a person.)
I have now come the conclusion that as organized as Hilary is, with her spreadsheets and checklists, we may have to have several more brainstorming sessions of the Wedding Project Team to ensure that we have captured all the details, such as fork vs. hands. For example, we may need a separate module on the Toast Phase to ensure that the toastal responsibilities, timing and content are coordinated and sequenced appropriately within the Toast Window. At this point, it is dawning on me that I may be part of the toastal process, and, as such, will be expected to deliver a toast commensurate with the high expectations that people will place upon me, which means that I have to get cracking on the research, writing and rehearsing in front of our cats. I have 134 days.
I got this from my sister, who is the family archivist. These are pictures of my grandmother and grandfather on their honeymoon around 90 years ago. They were first-generation Americans, just barely, because their families had come over from Eastern Europe in the 1890s, several years before they were born. My grandfather, Hyman Manevitch, had managed to survive World War I in France and was just beginning his career as a Boston politician at the time these pictures were taken. He had a marvelous sense of humor. My grandmother, Lillian, bless her heart, did not.
So Saturday I was at a conference at Research Triangle Park for science bloggers. Not that I am a science blogger, but in my day job, I have a great interest in what people are doing onliine locally, and so I attended. Most of it went over my head. But a fellow with a camera from NBC 17, Wayne Sutton, who knew of my father-of-the-bride blogging, thought it would be a good opportunity to do a short webcast with me about what I do here on this site. You can see the interview here. Wayne's formal title is Community Content Manager for WNCN.
As you watch this, a couple of things to note. First, I had no idea I'd be doing this. I was eating a tuna sandwich during the lunch break when Wayne came over and pulled me into a room and pointed his camera at me. One minute, we're shooting the breeze and the next minute I'm preparing for my closeup.
Second, I was pretty well beat. It had been a long week, and I was tired. During one of the sessions Saturday -- I think they were talking about how to search the web by molecular-level tags -- I'm pretty sure I kept dozing off.
Anyway, there you are.
Thad Ogburn, the Features editor, drops this book on my desk the other day called, "His Cold Feet," subtitled "A guide for the woman who wants to tie the knot with the guy who wants to talk about it later." By a woman named Andrea Passman Candell. He thought I could use it for the blog; I don't need it otherwise, because I am 29-plus years past the pre-engagement phase.
Evidently, this Cold Feet thing is a big deal and many women are in relationships with men who take a long time to get around to proposing, if ever. I read the book and think the author missed an essential point. It's not so much that men are resistant to the idea of marriage. I think it is more that most guys are not very aware and are easily distracted.
Also, most guys don't grow up thinking about their wedding day. They are dimly aware that such a day may come, but guys grow up, for the most part, in a different universe. Women - not all, but many - grow up reading magazines all about relationships and bridal gowns and such; guys - not all, but many - read Road and Track, and want to be Eric Clapton, not Ward Cleaver (ok, that dates me; if the Cleaver reference eludes you, write me, and I'll explain.)
This is not necessarily about having cold feet. This is about not having a clue that serious relationships have a trajectory. Eventually, though, the guy looks at his steady girlfriend and thinks, you know, she's nice and attractive and we get along pretty well, and thought leads to action. Sometimes the action consists of bended knee and romantic locales, but probably, more often than not, proposals are just blurted out.
Because it's not like there's some big thought process involved. Guys, trust me, are not frequently capable of big, sustained thought processes, unless you count the fantasy league baseball drafts. So you can read Ms. Candell's 220 some pages and try out all her strategies for getting him across the finish line, but a lot of it sounds to the guy like Charlie Brown's teacher talking: wawa-wa. wawa-wa. It's not personal.
But if you feel stuck, and you want to get the book ($11 bucks and change on Amazon.com) she has lots to say about item 5 on her pre-engagement checklist: Know when it's time to keep him and when it's time to sweep him. (Chapter 10)
Jim Ferraro, multimillionaire trial lawyer, set to marry prominent real estate broker Patricia Delinois on Friday in a formal ceremony at Fisher Island's Vanderbilt Mansion, jilted her -- at the altar -- as they were about to exchange vows before 75 to 80 guests.
Ferraro, 50, in a black tuxedo with a silk shirt, walked down the aisle first. His escort: Mary High, mother of former NFL player and UM star Eddie Brown. High works for Ferraro, helping care for his children.
Delinois, 44, wore an off-white gown with lace, beads and crystals. Her escort: son Brandon Timinsky, 16.
After five years of dating, the couple were to finally tie the knot. But, says Ferraro: 'When it was time to say `I do,' I just said, 'I love her but I just can't do this.' '' He walked away, flanked by sons James, 21, Andrew, 18, and daughter Alexis, 14.
is coming up soon. I didn't really know what a bridesmaid fitting is, and so I did what I do when I don't understand something, which is go on the Internet. I learned that this involves seamstresses and measurements and 360-degree mirrors and pins, lots of pins.
In some cases, there's lunch.
As you can see, my knowledge about this is a little sketchy. But I get the sense that this is some kind of event.
One of our online staffers suggested that I should be rigged for a wireless "Dan Cam" on my lapel and broadcast live during the wedding ceremony. Sort of C-SPAN meets Bridezilla. That's a sensational idea, and evidence of the kind of outside-the-box thinking we encourage here at 215 S. McD.
I actually have considered live blogging via my Blackberry.
Maybe we are on the cusp of a recession. That's what the economists say, at any rate, and they have predicted 9 of the last 3 recessions. Anyway, I invite them to come to the wedding show at the State Fairgrounds in West Raleigh. You could barely navigate the floor for the crowds. So there's some disposable income out there, because the place was loaded with young women and their moms. Some guys who wanted to be anywhere else. Not so many dads.
Me, I went with my wife on this windy day mostly to feed this blog. Hilary and Travis have made most of the major decisions -- the caterer, the wedding hall, the flowers, the photographer. There are still some details remaining to be resolved.
Like what kind of pillow they will get for the young ring-bearer .... and gloves for the flower girls. The cake.
If you go to the show, go hungry, because there are lots of free samples. You can fill up on slices of cake.
If you are looking for a teeth-whitening solution, there's a booth rented by a very well-known local dentist.
DJs all over the place. Photographers. Videographers. Caterers. A huge Belk booth.
One thing I did not anticipate was the butt-squeezing contest. This took place on the stage where the fashion shows have been held. Here's what happened. The MC's invited a couple onto the stage -- a bride-to-be and her fiance. Then they invited four yound men from the crowd up on the stage. They then sat the young woman down in a chair and blindfolded her. She was then required to squeeze the butts of the young men to see if she could, while blindfolded, identify her fiance's backside. She did, and they won some prizes.
I offer this without comment, except to say that things have sure changed, haven't they, and you probably don't see this kind of thing at the Dixie Gun and Knife Show.
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