or worse, a cravat, from some select
outfitter, but had missed the
memo? Was I about to ruin the
whole wedding? Was I not only not
the best man, but not a very good
man at all?
"Well, sort of," was the answer. I
arrived and confessed my concerns,
and in the delightful, conciliatory
way in which he'd broken the sad
news that I was merely to be an
usher, the groom told me that it
didn't matter, and no one would
mind, but yes there had been an
email, and yes I should have
brought black shoes and a white
shirt. Fortunately my grey suit was
just what had been called for. And
luckily I was able to nip out the next
morning and buy a white shirt and
some black shoes that more or less
fit. And the ties had been bought,
and paired with nice little burgundy
pocket squares. And they were
nicer than my blue one anyway.
And they matched the bridesmaids
dresses. And so the epiphany came;
dressing for a wedding is not about
looking good on your own. It's
about fulfilling your role
appropriately, so that the wedding
as a whole can be a stunningly
beautiful affair (which, for the
record, it was). The groom and his
men ought to look smart,
simple, and elegant, so as to allow
the bride and her maids to sparkle.
The mother of the bride ought to
wear austere, somewhat
foreboding colours, and a spiky hat
of some kind, to remind the groom
to behave himself. There should be
at least one quirky uncle in
neoprene toe-sandals. All children
should be vastly overdressed, and
should start ruining their nice
clothes with playground antics no
later than 6:45pm, apart from one
young lady who is 12 going on 21,
whose job it is to scowl in a dress
that Liz Hurley would consider a bit
much until someone allows her a
sip of champagne soon after which
she should fall asleep at the table
while the band plays Moves Like
Jagger.
"The groom and his men
ought to look smart."
The whole event was rather lifeaffirming, for while alone I perhaps
looked marginally more marvellous
in my initial outfit than in my
slightly stretchy white shirt and
somewhat squeaky black shoes, I
became in my usher's uniform a
special part of a gorgeous moment
in time. The whole was more than
the sum of its parts, and that is,
probably, what marriage is all
about. To the happy couple!
Sleeves Magazine