Sunday - The morning suit debate is still in the air but I am leaving it to himself to decide. I am having enough trouble with my son asking me to tell his girlfriend she can’t wear pink! ‘Why not?’ I ask. Because she wants him to match i.e. to wear a pink shirt and tie as well. Apparently my son hates pink. I have to admit that I never dressed him in pink as a child. I see now that I have failed to put him in touch with his feminine side – mea culpa!
I continue to do my best to resist becoming absorbed in the wedding stuff. It’s hard because everyone else is so excited about it. Good grief – we are two aging baby boomers not a couple of twenty somethings. But still the whole thing gathers momentum at a remorseless pace.
There is the whole issue of the hen party. My sister-in-law-to-be has taken this one over along with a close friend from my old golf club. I am staying out of it. It became more complicated yesterday when friends at my new golf club started to plot their own event. I can see the headlines… “Lady golfers arrested in hen night gang warfare battle for custody of bride”.
The other big issue has been finding the fabric for the wedding outfit. An elegant, slightly retro suit in red. The initial samples I found were dismissed out of hand by the dressmaker as being too lightweight. She gave me the names of various emporia to visit/contact for something a bit more substantial.
So I left work early last week and took a taxi to a part of London I had never ventured into before. Somewhere north of Marylebone Road, bordering the Edgeware Road there is a mixed community that specialises in fabric shops. Amazing places full of fantastic material. Everything from sari fabrics to good strong tartan that would grace the plus-four clad thighs of Clarissa Dickson Wright. The first one I visited was Joel & Sons – purveyors of fine fabrics to HM the Queen. Thousands of rolls stacked to the ceiling. I asked for, and was shown, the heavy-duty fabrics they had in red silk. All wonderful – all nearly £100 per metre. Next to me a girl was fingering the most beautiful black lace material. The price? “£398 per metre madam”. I am out of touch. I retreated with some samples and smiling lies that I would get back to them.
Fortunately, I had also contacted another recommendation from the dressmaker – with a request for samples and prices. Hallelujah – they came through with the perfect taffeta silk in the right colour and just over £23 per metre – Something else to tick off the list.
Next week I am going to Rigby and Peller in Mayfair – to get a ‘foundation garment’ that will disguise all the wobbly bits and convince the partially sighted that I have a waist. Then I have the first fitting of the calico version of the outfit on Friday.
The week after I visit the hairdresser for the first time in 8 months – the new hair will be coloured and shaped (cut is too strong a word).
Needless to say the wig is getting a bit dejected.
I’ll keep you posted.
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