Chestnut Hill wedding; it doesn't come cheap

by YAGA BRADY

I shook my head in bewilderment at a pile of notes, printouts, receipts and bills relating to my daughter's recent wedding. My knowledge of weddings had been extremely limited -- until recently, that is. Not that I had never been to events called weddings. Of those that I remember, some were definitely less restrained than others, like the one where celebratory eating, drinking, dancing and such went on for two full days, with just a short pause for a nap here and there.

My own wedding was definitely on the restrained side. It was the late '60s, an unruly and idealistic epoch in American history, when the manner in which a pair were joined in matrimony was supposed to be irrelevant. So, accordingly, we got married in a courthouse, in a ring-less two-minute ceremony attended by three acquaintances. On the day of the ceremony the bridegroom worked until early afternoon, just to have enough time to slip into cleaner clothes for the 3 p.m. event. After the ceremony, the newlyweds and three guests celebrated for about an hour, partaking of assorted sandwiches and champagne (one bottle). Memories, memories ...

My past experience did not prepare me for what I encountered when I was readying myself for my daughter's nuptials in our Chestnut Hill home with 65 guests.

Take caterers, for example. A representative of one of the prime firms of the area walked into our home, and within the first 15 minutes presented a comprehensive plan of how our house and garden should be re-made to accommodate comfortably all guests and servers; what should be enlarged, what installed, what moved or what should simply disappear from the scene altogether. The woman, handsome and beautifully poised, had the reassuring smile of a well-trained hospice nurse and an air of total expertise.

She explained how her firm would make the whole event happen for us, with no effort or worry on our part about such trifles as food, tables, linens, glasses, tent, etc., not to mention the general pampering of the guests. The list of foods she gave was a cookbook's worth of menus, full of dishes with names like "confetti of summer vegetables" or "bundles of joy stuffed with Norwegian salmon." The choice of table linens came from volumes of swatches, a selection that most interior designers would not mind working with.

And the advice on wedding etiquette was not only full of wisdom, but also so tactful! The projected cost to us was in five figures. I felt a little unsettled for a short while, and tried some comparison-shopping, but nobody's references were nearly as impressive as those of the prime firm. I went for prime. It was not a horribly high five figures anyway.

And then there was the dress. My daughter wears unpretentious, simple clothes, yet for that particular occasion, she dreamed of a creation of a certain color and style, which was not to be found on any rack in any store. So we opted for a custom-made job. The person recommended was described to us as "a thoroughbred couturiere." The term was slightly off-putting, but other dressmakers we encountered were recent immigrants with somewhat shaky English, which, we felt, could present a problem when discussing intricacies of the design.

We decided on the thoroughbred. Our couturiere was perfectly poised, had a reassuring smile and total knowledge of her specialty. She operated from a house with many little rooms, all heavily carpeted, with lots of old-fashioned mirrors and lacey outfits scattered around. It looked like a movie image of a high-style bordello from the 1890s, cozy and customer-friendly.

Lounging about the place while observing fittings and perusing haute-couture publications became my favorite pastime. The dress, when ready, and on my daughter, looked spectacular. It took my breath away. And so did the bill. Four figures. I was told later that I was lucky that it was Philadelphia; in New York I would have had to pay twice the amount for the same dress.

And then the flowers. I decided on a flower professional after a certain wise person told me, "Oh my dear, flowers have to make a statement, especially at a wedding!" The chosen expert was tall, tanned, soft-spoken, totally in command. I loved all his ideas on shapes, colors, placements. Oh, his two rustic arrangements of cascading flowers on top of pedestals framing the young couple during the ceremony! Pure poetry. His bill was four figures.

I also used the services of a cake maker who was able to create each layer in a distinct flavor; musicians who knew how to provide dance tunes that were appreciated by young and mature guests alike; an officiant who knew how to tailor the words of the ceremony to one's personal inclinations (secular, religious, florid, simple -- your choice); and several others. I also dealt with some entrepreneurs of mixed reputations known to me from the past, who at the sound of the word "wedding" all sprang into action: roof and gutter experts, stonemasons, window cleaners, general cleaners, fence builders, weed pullers, etc.

This all may sound like whining about my expenditures, but it is not the case at all. No, the reason for my writing here is the urge to share my amazement at the discovery that weddings in A.D. 2004 America are actually the easiest imaginable events to organize. You hardly have to do a thing, except invest some time in a little research on line, send a few e-mails, check some yellow pages, and make a few phone calls.

You do not have to worry about anything, since out there -- just waiting for your beck and call -- is an incredibly well-functioning piece of machinery with smiling, helpful people serving as its wheels, cogs and gears: the wonderful Marriage World. I had anticipated hurdles of all kinds, anxieties, sleepless nights ... well, I experienced plenty of those too, but they were all of my own doing.

When it came to dealing with anybody from the World, things were painless and easy. "But the services of the Marriage World are soooo ... expensive!" you will say. Well, you should try it once, is my advice. Unless, of course, you have more than one daughter.

P.S. There is one service provided by that amazing industry which has been designed to defray, just a smidgen, the costs incurred by wedding-givers -- the Bridal Registry, through which invitees are told in advance what the bride and groom need and want in their future lives (that is, as far as material goods are concerned). That was one service we did not use. Our daughter felt that she would rather face the daunting problem of say, three identical coffee grinders than pass up a single truly personal gift.