Because It Suits Him

So the gown is the hard bit right? Its the one item of clothing that gets agonised over the most in a wedding. Theres the line to be considered. Do you want to go empire or perhaps princess? What sort of neck do you want? Are you more inclined towards the sweetheart or the square cut? When considering the shape of the skirt are you a fan of A-line or the increasingly popular mermaid? Would you suit something that is cut on the bias? If you could wear a hoop would you wear a big one, a small one or none at all? Are straps necessary? Is wearing supportive underwear a priority or can you go backless? Do you have the kind of shit hot body that is going to look fantastic in either a sheath or a burlap sack? And don’t even get me started on the colours, the materials or the additions to a gown that are all sewn on by hand! The boys on the other hand are easy. Shove them in a suit. You can choose between a morning coat, a tux, tails or your normal suit and for those who don’t favour black, you can have navy or charcoal. Thats about it isn’t it?

Well that is more or less what I thought before I went to visit a tailor. As The Boy and I have been vaguely looking around at suits over the past couple of months I am aware that there is not a lot out there in fine quality materials or any colour faintly resembling a plain dark brown. It seems that even for the higher end suits, you are still paying 20% of the retail price for the suit and 80% for the 2 inch label on the inside. And the prospects for hiring suits was not much better. Due to The Boy’s colouring we decided we wanted to go with warm rich tones, avoiding blacks and greys, but the only browns we seemed to find could be best described as tan or what I would refer to as poo. Neither of which were appealing in the slightest. After several discussions we decided that since I am having a jacket made for the wedding outfit, The Boy may as well get in on the action too and have his suit tailor made and the first appointment was an eye opener.

I wasn’t sure quite what to expect from a tailor of men’s fashion. I know that good suits don’t come cheap so I had half formed images of pencil thin grey-haired men with perfect elocution, sardonic eyebrows and sticks up their sphincter who were for all intents and purposes camp as a row of tents. The sort of men who merely tolerate the plebeian hoards of Sydney such as myself who would deign to wander into a store such as theirs in my faded jeans and thongs – and for everyone who is not Australian, I am talking about my shoes, not my underwear. I figured I would either be faced with a personage such as this or a short, fat, balding man, obsequious in nature to the point of terminally irritating and perhaps also a little shifty. Unfair stereotypes I know and fortunately I was wrong. We were met by the owner of the business who was at first glance an average, rather unassuming sort of man but one who I actually think is knowledgeable, helpful, down to earth, friendly, a little quirky underneath and a very astute judge of character. He happened to remind me very of The Boy which is probably why they hit it off too.

I am quite sure that Tailor Man could quite seamlessly go from catering to The Boy and I who are at the limit of our budget as we retain his services to another client for whom the purchase of a bespoke suit is merely a drop in the ocean. I did have to smile however when he picked us as the kind of people who would appreciate a “Pardon my French, but why the f*** would you spend that much on fabric” from the person with whom we are doing business. If I were to be cynical and think it was a sales pitch, it was a very good one. As much as I’d like to have a far better taste of the good life, there is a small part of me that is still grade A bogan. I got the feeling however that it wasn’t just a pitch and Tailor Man loved what he did. He was happy to cater towards the more unusual requests (although why one would want a flannel suit I don’t know) but at the same time he personally felt that some of the excesses in the industry were a bit ridiculous. Did you know that you can get suiting material that is flecked with real gold or have a mill actually weave in words of your choice into a pin stripe?

While The Boy and I took turns running out to the car to put more money in the parking meter because we still weren’t ready to leave, I learnt a lot. When you buy any suit, there are four generic types. Off the rack (where what you see is what you get), Made to Order (where you can decide of the options available which you want for yourself), Made to Measure (where of the options available, certain measurements can be altered to suit your person) and the pièce de résistance, Bespoke tailoring (which basically means they mould the garment on you personally and every single measurement is what you want it to be). And should you choose to go for a bespoke suit, then the fun really starts. Do you want single-breasted or double-breasted? How many buttons do you want on the front? How many buttons on the sleeve would you like? Do you want them all to be functioning for that matter? What kind of lapel do you want? How wide do you want it? Where do you want the jacket to cross over your chest? How long should the jacket be? But I’m getting a little ahead of myself here. A lot of people pick their material first. So are you after a summer weight or a winter weight? Do you want to wear the suit a couple of times or at least once a week for the next 2 or more years?...See, men are lucky. Depending on the suit, they can get decent wear out of it afterwards. I sure as hell can’t wear my dress that often without appearing slightly deranged (its definitely not corporate wear for work or casual wear for the weekend) or well...even if I only chose to wear it to every “event” I attend over the next year I’ll still appear slightly deranged. If I had the social life to support a ball gown, it would be poor form to wear the same thing again and again and if I just wore it to all the parties and dinners I attend now I would be exorbitantly overdressed! But I was speaking of material...

It was quite amusing to us that in the space of at least an hour and a half, we managed to come full circle and arrive back where we started from. Which apparently happens quite a bit. When The Boy was first on the phone with Tailor Man’s partner in the business (not to be confused with “partner” as the partner was male and Tailor Man himself is also engaged as it happens), it was mentioned that we had in mind the colour brown. Not a tan brown or a chocolate brown (or god forbid a poo brown – he didn’t really say that though) but more like an espresso brown or a black-brown. Although they’re all still rather subjective and open to interpretation aren’t they? When we went in, we were quite pleasantly surprised to see that they had already begun looking into suitable material swatches for us and had earmarked a few for our consideration. We were free to go through all of their swatch booklets though, which we did, and mark out any other fabrics that took our fancy and by the end of it, there were about 8-10 that made the finals. We then took all the swatches outside to look at the fabrics in daylight and at a distance for themselves and in conjunction with the swatches from my dress and The Pussycat’s dress. We finally narrowed it down to make the executive decision on the most suitable fabric for the suit and the purposes for which it was to be used. We ended up choosing one of the first fabrics we saw and which fitted our first description of what we were looking for in the material.

And that was our first trip to the tailor. It won’t be our last however as I have been assured that the suit will require at least four to five separate fittings. Especially as he is going to make the shirt and the tie too. The Boy’s outfit is going to be more effort than my dress in the end. It amuses me no end that its more expensive too. To be fair, I did buy my dress at a clearance sale and had I bought it retail I would have beaten him hands down. One might also consider that since I am getting a jacket as well, the cost of that has tipped me over the price of the groom’s outfit. I choose to take comfort in the fact however that he can’t complain about how much of the budget I spent on my outfit as a whole because his suit did indeed cost more than my dress.

The Wedding Planner

You know what, I am so not planning this wedding. The Boy is. And I think thats fantastic.

Stereotypically it is the female who gathers the troops made up of girlfriends, siblings and parents to research and deliberate. She may spend hours contemplating the merits and suitability of each product or vendor. Once a short list or even a preference has been decided upon she might then check that this is ok with her beau before going ahead but that how things get done. Or how things might be done if you’re not us. In our case, its The Boy who has spent hours on the internet and the phone researching in order to find the perfect church, reception venue and wedding attire for our day. Once he finds what he thinks is right, he lets me know what it is and I turn up with the credit card. He doesn’t actually tell me we’re going to do something. He does ask for my opinion and my agreement but by the time he brings anything to my attention, its pretty much a foregone conclusion that whatever it is I’m faced with is definitely one of the top contenders or indeed what is the final choice for the day.

Now I know that there are a lot more grooms out there who are choosing to get actively involved in the planning for their weddings. At the last couple of Bridal Fairs I attended, there was a significant number of fiancées who were weighing in on the discussions and decisions with the various vendors present. Men definitely weren’t in the majority of the attendees but those that were there were not dragging their heels a couple of paces behind their other half studiously avoiding eye contact with any of the vendors. There were a couple who looked like a deer caught in headlights when they were addressed about say the aesthetic appeal of hot pink on a wedding invitation sure. That is at least before the stark panic set in and you could see their mind churning as all of their senses were no doubt on alert just in case the vendor in question pounced on them with the express purpose of smothering them in six layers of tulle and hog tying them with a couple of metres of velvet ribbon. Cause the vendors are bound to want to do that aren’t they? But for the rest of the men, they seemed to actually be interested. Or very afraid of their fiancé. It is my opinion however that The Boy does not fit into this category.

I do find it useful that The Boy seems to have a healthy fear of me. He was absolutely packing it when he had an accident in our car and had to tell me he’d run into someone. Regarding our wedding however, he has actually been instrumental in the planning process to date as opposed to merely a participant. And not only has he been responsible for the decisions regarding the ceremony and the reception, decisions that one might regard as being of a more neutral nature, he has so far managed to pick out the wedding gown, the designer for my jacket and the maid of honour dress as I have mentioned before. Decisions that are very much not normally part of the male domain in a wedding. That might of course have something to do with the tradition that dictates that it is bad luck for the groom to see his affianced in her wedding gown before the wedding but still...I have always picked and chosen the traditions that I thought were worthwhile adhering to and that one didn’t make the list. And I’m quite thankful it wasn’t on his list either.

As much as I have spent time browsing the internet and looking through bridal magazines for inspiration and options, I haven’t been doing the lion’s share. And since what I have been doing has managed to frustrate me no end, I am grateful that The Boy has shouldered most of that burden as he has been doing a lot of the hard work. I managed to stumble over some bridal blogs today that were full of women espousing their delight and joy in attending the fittings for their gown and sending out the invitations. Women who appeared to locate the perfect anything with little or no effort at all and who were so organised and prepared, they were practically twiddling their thumbs months before the wedding. There was no angst, no frustration, (no irreverent humour – it was all rather boring really) and no hint that this whole process isn’t as easy as it looks. Maybe they weren’t real women though. Maybe its all a plot fuelled by some Matrimonial Matriarchs who have an insidious desire to have you give up when faced with your own ineptitude and come crawling for their advice and assistance. Or maybe some women just know what they want and money isn’t an option. Either way, that story isn’t part of my wedding journey. I don’t need a wedding planner or a gaggle of girls to traipse around after me, all putting in their two cents worth. I have The Boy.

Another One Down

Do you know whats slightly more irritating than traipsing from store to store, trying on dress after dress in order to find the perfect outfit to wear for your wedding? Dragging your sister around from store to store, asking her to try on dress after dress so that you can find the perfect outfit to be worn for your wedding! Actually, I probably exaggerate a little. The Boy and I were shopping for weeks for my dress. In three different states. We only put in one concerted day of shopping in order to find The Pussycat’s dress. In 40 degree heat to boot! And find it we did. Or rather The Boy did. He’s got a pretty good track record so far. He picked out my dress, he found the designer for my jacket and he selected The Pussycat’s dress on the weekend for her to try on. Now all we need to do is get my mother up to Sydney so he can have a go at the Mother-of-the-Bride outfit too :-).

So yeah, I was both relieved and impressed on Saturday when we managed to find something that could potentially satisfy all parties. We found the dress at the first place we went to but we did go and see a number of other bridal stores just so we could make sure. We went to the store where we obviously weren’t “wog” enough to be a prospective customer. All the dresses were full of sequins and beads and whilst there was nothing inherently wrong with the gowns on display, they all seemed a little boring to be honest. I think that some of the women in the store could have benefitted quite substantially from the “less is more” principle too but if you don’t feel like a bride unless you glitter from every angle then you should be allowed to do so on your special day I guess.

Then we went to the one stop shop with the grooms and attendants on one side and the brides on the other. There was nothing else really impressive to note about this place other than the fact that it offered the “tarts ‘r us” option for the bridesmaids. This particular dress came in black and hot pink and looked a little more like it should feature in the wedding night rather than in the wedding day. It was that hideous kind of outfit that you stare at in an Oh My God kind of way but at the same time do not really take in all the details as if the mere memory in your brain will taint you forever. I seem to recall for example that there were some dyed feathers of the tawdry feather boa type variety that adorned the dress and would most probably malt throughout the day in irritating places such as on the brides gown. I could of course be completely mistaken and there were no feathers whatsoever. It just seemed like there should be some because that would just be the icing on the cake for this dress. I do remember however that the bodice was of a transparent mesh and the skirt was a cocktail length frou-frou affair that could easily make a female with hips look like the size of a cow. Needless to say, it really wasn’t our thing.

We visited another salon where some friends of ours bought their bridal and bridemaids outfits but although there was a possible dress there, it just didn’t look quite right. The dress in question did actually look good on The Pussycat. The assistants were also very nice and helpful in ascertaining that the dress could in fact be made in colours that would match my gown. There was just something about it though that was a bit “so what”. It looked like just another formal dress. I don’t exactly want my sister to outshine me on my day (even though she has reiterated on a number of occasions in jest that my day is so totally and utterly about her) but I don’t want her to look inferior either. It would be good if we both looked totally $hit hot together. For an agreeable price of course. Money can buy you a multitude of things but although I love my sister dearly, I am absolutely not prepared to spend more on her dress than I did on mine. That so isn’t fair.

And the money thing leads me to one of the other bridal stores we visited on the Saturday. At this point in the afternoon, we were all tired and dehydrated and I think we were starting to grasp at straws a little. We drove down Parramatta Road towards the couturiers to have a look and see if there was any inspiration there. As I vaguely had in mind that I would like my sister in an ivory dress because I was wearing a coloured gown we were mostly looking at plain wedding dresses for her. You don’t really expect to find “bridesmaids” dresses in white and ivory after all. A lot of the gowns we saw were obviously extremely “bridal” and therefore out of the question but there were some plainer styles that might have suited her quite well. We wandered into this one store however where we found it quite difficult to extricate ourselves from the store before the designer got to us as we would obviously be wasting his time with our request. We therefore ended up sitting down with him to be told that all of their bridesmaids’ outfits pretty much started at $3500 so what was the budget we were thinking of for our dress? We flat out lied and then sat there politely until we could tell him we’d go away and think about it because we were still deciding on just the right dress. He had drawn us a quick sketch that would have been really attractive except for the price tag which is so not an option without the Powerball jackpot.

After that it was definitely all downhill and the last place we went to was just plain creepy. Well, the store itself wasn’t but this guy opened the door for us and he was apparently the son of the designer. He said his mum wasn’t it but we should come in and take a look. The gowns were a bit, I don’t know...tacky is the word that comes to mind. Its like they were themed or something. There was a more fantasy feel to them rather than glamour or style or you know, taste. The place might have been perfect if I was marrying a biker. Thats the impression that I got. It just felt wrong though. And then as we said it wasn’t really the kind of thing we were after at all and went to leave, the guy said he’d give us his mum’s card and his too in case we wanted a videographer/photographer for our day. Now I know that we haven’t chosen anyone to document our wedding as yet and I haven’t actually seen any of his work but I would not let that guy anywhere near my wedding. I can’t say exactly what it was about him because he seemed fairly clean and he wasn’t rude or anything but just.....icky.

So after all that, I was pretty sure that one of the first dresses which was originally $2000 but down to $350 was the way to go. The colour was great, the dress was plain enough, my sister looked fantastic in it and everybody liked it. On the Sunday, we went back and got it. One more decision down. Yipee.