My sister in Melbourne, who tries to epitomise organised and sometimes does a fair job of it, sent me an email inquiring about the colour for the retinue. Although the big day is still three months away, she wants to start shopping and blend in with the hue of the day.
My colour is white. White dress, white veil, white nails, white legs and, of course, my white knight. I have taken a diversion with my shoes which are silver to pick up the glint of the diamante in the earrings, but the rest is white, and my skin particularly, which will remain so unless I find a make-up artist.
Yesterday I went shopping for the bridal materials – hiring is out – and I’m delighted with my purchases as they help me to see my dress taking shape – well sort of. I have metres of gorgeous white chiffon, soft white satin and pretty white lace all waiting to be crafted into the piece de resistance.
When I phoned the factory outlet to inquire about the varieties of lace, the receptionist told me there were many. When I arrived there with my other sister, I discovered that if many meant 80, 78 of them were for curtains so the choice was severely narrowed down. I’m not averse to bad taste parties but I don’t have to be the one to get the award for the best-dressed in bad taste apparel on my wedding day.
Left to decide between two patterns I couldn’t um and ah for too long. Nonetheless, I left the fabric shop satisfied that I had what I needed and at a fair price too.
So sister – you can wear any colour you like – as long as it’s not white.