What to Wear to a Wedding

What you wear to a wedding depends on a lot of different variables.  If you aren't the bride then a big whoomfy white dress and veil looks a bit attention-seeking.  Many couples issue guidelines about dress.  They might, for example, stipulate morning suits for gentlemen.  If they are complete control freaks they will even tell you which colour waistcoat they want you to wear, and how much it will cost to hire it from Moss Bros.  Morning suit hire is more than I feel inclined to shell out for a present, so my view is they'll get one or the other.  An entire reception full of blokes in matching morning suits, but no towels or toasters.

Usually the couple are a bit more relaxed.  Most men will wear a lounge suit to a wedding.  No problemo, they think.  I have a suit in the wardrobe which I wore to be Dave's best man 5 years ago.  Still, a wise man will try the suit on a good week before the wedding.  And a very wise man will try it on even if someone says to him 'Aren't you going to try that suit on, darling?'  Because it's a well-known fact that suits can shrink if left hanging too long in a wardrobe.

This kind of masculine wardrobe fiasco is a mere airy nothing compared to the horrors faced by most women as a wedding approaches.  This brings me back to those variables I mentioned earlier.  What you wear depends  not least on how close you are to the happy couple.  If you are the mother of the groom you will approach the whole outfit question in a very different frame of mind from an old college friend.  Sisters of the bride may well end up being a bridesmaid, or Bag of Honour, as it was called in my family.  In this case you will not be able to choose your dress at all.  The best you can hope for is to head off anything disastrously unflattering.

Other variables are more subtle.  Is there going to be an ex-boyfriend there, who needs to be taught what an utter loser he is for no longer going out with you (even if you ditched him)?  Will the wedding be full of people you went to school with (NB start diet 4months in advance)?  Or are you only being invited because you are the vicar's wife (in which case no significant expenditure or effort is called for and you'll be on the  same table as the children and mad aunts)?

Then there's the hat issue to decide.  I used to adore wearing hats before they became de rigeur.  These days I seldom bother, unless I can be sure my hat is bigger than everyone else's put together and all will drop to their knees at my sheer millinery awesomeness.  Plus hats squash my hair.

But here's an oddity about wedding clothes which I've noticed: the no matchy-matchy rule is suspended.  Colour co-ordination is permitted at weddings, indeed, it is positively encouraged.  If you wish to wear salmon pink everything from fascinator to sling-backs, you may do so with impunity.  This is why I allowed myself to wear white trousers, black-and-white patterned top, black-and-white necklace, pink earrings, pink pashmina and pink shoes to a wedding last Saturday.  And I'm not ashamed to say it felt good.

DAY 5

Honesty compels me to admit early in the year that we will not be discussing underwear on a daily basis.  So if you are a pervert, you may as well stop bothering now.

Today we are working a black and green colour scheme.  I am wearing the same treggings as yesterday.  This is perfectly fine.  I know young people think that there is a 'wear once, put in laundry basket' rule at work in the universe.  Actually, that's a lie.  Most think the rule is 'wear once, drop on floor'.  They've been suckered by the Lynx adverts.  It is in fact possible to wear garments more than once without blighting your environment with BO fumes.  The treggings are good for another day.  I was not wading through mud or stroking a white cat yesterday, I was mainly sitting at my desk working.

Still, we don't want people to think we have so few clothes that we have to wear the same thing two days running, do we?  This is why we have clothes horses, to pile the once-worn but no longer pristine clothes on.  Eventually your entire wardrobe will be heaped on your clothes horse, and then there are two possible courses of action: putting it all in the laundry basket, or folding it up and putting it in your chest of drawers (well, it will have aired, won't it?)

This morning I actually feel as though I'm wearing something new.  It's not new, it's just new to me.  I was given it by one of the other Close Catherines, who is (half of) the Director of Music.  Those of you who live on the Close will instantly be intrigued, as we represent the two extremes of the Catherine height spectrum.  What could she possibly have in her wardrobe that fits me?  Answer: a black sleeveless chunky knit tunic with a wide cowl neck.  Perhaps on her it was a maxi dress.  On me it's about the length of an Oxford BA gown, referred to as a bum-freezer.  (Hence treggings, not leggings, see yesterday's post.)

Under this tunic I'm sporting a green vest and long sleeved green top, both bought new several years ago from the Italian underwear people, Intimissimi (who understand curves).  The precise shade is what I've always thought of as Lincoln green, the colour made famous by Robin Hood and his merry men.  However, if you search Lincoln green on Google, you'll find little consensus.  Just to clarify then: my top is 'Homebase Lincoln Green'.  I'm back to black boots.  I am not, however, wearing a wide leather belt.  Tunic+boots+belt always teeters on the brink of Peter Pan, and this is not a good look for a middle-aged woman, or indeed anyone other than Peter Pan.  I'm wearing a nice paua shell necklace which contains a range of blues and greens, and that pale aqua pashmina from Sunday.  Oh dear, oh dear.  Matchy-matchy again.  But I'll try really hard to put on a brown coat later when I take my older son to Tamworth to catch his train back to Durham.