Captain's Log #46 - Virgin Bride, or Arranged Marriage?

May 12, 2002

Wedding Season has begun again in Wine Country with the first event at ____ Winery last Saturday.

I keep thinking each wedding I attend is more expensive than the last, and this one must have cost a mint! (But it didn’t come up to the one last year for the TV news announcer at _____ Vineyards Gardens, all those fur coats!)

This was the first wedding reception held at ____, which opened last summer. It’s clear the building was not designed for this sort of thing, for example, there was no industrial kitchen, or one that we were allowed access to. I’m not quite sure of the building’s purpose: there are art galleries upstairs, a small café, and a small gourmet food store downstairs. It has the look of a museum with two, open, foyer-type spaces, which will be good for cocktails at art openings. This wedding reception utilized both of those spaces. Of course, you could have hosted a nice party in the ladies room, it was large and attractive enough.

I don’t know, what does filet mignon for 150 people cost? A lovely three-layer cake, tables, linens, chairs, silver and glasses. These people were not serious wine drinkers or we would have used the Riedel crystal. The full bar was popular, although not among the 5 pregnant women. That’s a lot of pregnant women in one room. It’s a good thing the place was as large as it was or there wouldn’t have been enough room for everyone else.

The flowers! No expenses was spared there. They used the most exclusive florist in Napa Valley, Michael Holmes. Tasteful centerpieces about a foot tall chock-full of multi-colored roses, and tulips, and peonies, and freesias, and lilies, and, and, and. I thought I stood an excellent chance of taking one home – these being wealthy people, probably visitors from out of town staying at hotels and B&Bs. This event was worth staying to the very end of the night to help pack the truck, and break down the tables and chairs. Usually they let some staff leave early and, being one of the older staff members, I often ask to leave early but these flowers were worth sticking around for. Also scattered on the tables were all the gardenias in Georgia, enough to perfume the cavernous dining area.

The guests were mostly in their 30’s, I overheard something about the stock market going up which garnered some applause. The best man made a comment about the bride fumbling the word “poorer” in the vows and the father shouted, “I never taught my daughter THAT word.” All the women wore beautiful silk, jewel-toned dresses, shantung is popular these days, and drapey, silk chiffon is always in style on slender young women.

I thought the bride verged on the anorexic, slender-boned and not a whole lot on them. Tasteful strapless ecru gown with a lace encrusted bodice and a smooth satin skirt, simple lines, very attractive.

She sat next to a man where the groom usually sits but they acted like they had just met. She looked to be late twenties, he looked early forties. He had the banal look of George W. but not the smiling good-old-boy face (which actually might be appropriate at your own wedding.) They sat a foot-and-a-half apart. She listened with polite interest and nodded and talked at him but it didn’t look like they connected. They could have been seatmates on an airline. There was no lovey-dovey, goo-goo ga-ga stuff, let alone smiling at each other. A love-less wedding? What’s the point?

This must have been a first marriage for both of them because as they were about to cut the cake and were waiting for the photographer to set up, I happened by, they stopped me, “How is this done?”

The did fine. The evening went flawlessly. Usually there’s some major catastrophe in the kitchen or on the floor with the mother of the bride in a tizzy about something. I begin each event wondering – what’s going to go wrong tonight? Nothing went wrong, it went like clockwork. Although, at the end of the evening, as the last of the guests were leaving, the mother of the bride yells, “Take the centerpieces! The florist’s just going to throw them out! Take two!” And they did. Darn, I could have left early. Every part of my body was screaming: eight hours on my feet running around the whole time, my feet, my legs, my hip joints, my back, and we still had to breakdown the tables and chairs and move them to the loading dock.

What am I doing this for? The money? The food? The party atmosphere? The live music? Well, there are quite a few benefits to working catering but I’m really doing it for the flowers. I watched the coveted centerpieces float out of the room in pairs.

The florist’s staff came in to take away the glass candelabras and any remaining flowers. One guy was carting off a 3-foot fountain of calla lilies, white roses, delphinium, gold-striped Rembrandt tulips and curly willow. “May I have some flowers?” “Sure, which ones do you want?” “I’ll take the whole thing.” “There’s more in the truck.” “This will be fine.” I also came away with half the gardenias in Georgia. It was a good night for me, but I worry about the newlyweds…