cl itippa

Tripping
Toward
The

Marriage means
compromising?
How about the
wedding?

JULIE EDGAR SENIOR WRITER

I am aware that I
had it easy as far as
wedding prepara-
tion goes, thanks
to my mother. She
has great style,
lightning-quick or-
ganizational and de-
cision-making skills,
and the motivation
to put together
large-scale events.
And yet, conflict
is inevitable. Along
the way, clashes are bound to
erupt and heads are sure to butt.
It was no different with us.
In the end, I believe — and Pm
passing this on to future brides
— tis better to have fought and
compromised than never to have
battled at all.

Pumps vs. Sandals

Pumps vs. Sandals was really
the first of many real-life deci-
sions facing me as my
mother contemplat-
ed my wedding day.
Let me be clear:
Pumps vs. Sandals is not
a Supreme Court case pitting Sal-
vatore Ferragamo against Ken-
neth Cole. It was a dilemma
generated by my mother as we
discussed appropriate shoes for
the big day.
I said sandals; she said pumps.
I said pumps are too prim. Im-
ages of lacquered blonde brides
in Martha Stewart's magazines
holding bouquets ofjasmine and
roses in their silky gowns and
pointy little pumps came to mind.
She said sandals would cheap-
en the dress, and frankly,
they wouldn't look
"bride-ey" enough.
We argued, but I
wasn't willing to lose
my head so early into
the planning process, so I let it
go. We settled on a "sump," if you
will, or a "pandal," if you prefer.
You know, strappy but elegant.

Studio 330 vs. Slades

A simultaneous conflict arose.
Where to register for china, sil-
ver, crystal, etc.? I can't say I had

given it much thought, but here
I was, faced with another show-
down.
My future mother-in-law pre-
ferred Slades. My mom liked Stu-
dio 330. Was there really a
difference between the two
stores? I asked. My mother
looked at me as if I had compared
Lutece to McDonald's. Studio
330, she informed me, closing the
case, "has the edge." I've since
been to both, and I still can't tell
the difference. Can anybody be-
sides the store owners tell me
what it is?

Black Tie vs. Black Tie Op-
tional

The next conflict led to some
fighting words. It began with the
wedding invitations.
As we jogged into the sta-
tionery store an hour before clos-
ing, my mother informed me
that my father thought the af-
fair elegant enough to issue a
call for black tie and that's what
would go on the invitations. My
stomach jumped like a train de-
railing. How could I justify all
this pomp? Had I totally aban-
doned my values? Black tie?
My mom got the woman who
helped us to agree with her, vo-
ciferously. I argued, to no avail.
My fiance David shook his
head vigorously when I ex-
plained what had happened. He
did not like the idea of a dress
code, particularly because most
men don't own
tuxes. No, he
didn't like it one
bit. I told him
my mom might
listen if he told
her so. He did,
that night on the
phone. She relented.
The next morning my phone
rang. I had a feeling the case
hadn't settled.
"We really think that given
the nature of the wedding, this
should be black tie," my mom
said in so many words. I argued.
She dropped the subject and a
week later told me that half the

invitations would say black tie;
the other half, black tie option-
al. The subject was thenceforth
off limits.

Old World vs. New World

A few weeks later, on one of
our frequent trips to Somerset,
my mother told me excitedly that
she'd almost forgotten to
order the napkins for
the wedding but had
done so that morn-
ing and they were
beautiful.
What do they
look like? I asked.
"Oh, they're mono-
grammed," she said
breezily.
What do they look
like? I asked. "There's
a big `S' in the middle
that is flanked by a
W and a D,"' she an-
swered. (The `S'
was for David's
last name.)
What makes
you so sure I'm
changing my
name? I asked hotly.
'Don't be silly," she said. This
is not silliness, I lectured. Isn't
it a bit presumptuous of you to
order the napkins before ask-
ing? Nowadays, women have
the choice of dropping or re-
taining their given names,
blah, blah, I went on. De-order
them, I ordered. She said she
couldn't.
Feeling a bit sheepish for
putting up such a stink, I said
that maybe some day I would
change my name, and I'd get
some use out of them. That was
the last of the napkin brouhaha
— I thought.
A month or so later, I met
somebody who works in the store
where my mother ordered the
napkins. "I heard about the nap-
kin crisis," she said solemnly.
Aha, I thought, my mom did can-
cel. Another battle won.

Neiman Marcus vs. Off The
Rack

After the very quick decision

not to wear a wedding gown, my
mom directed me to Neiman
Marcus to try on one by designer
Heidi Weisel — whose name I
have come to loathe.
I liked the dress — unadorned,
sporty and yes, elegant. That was
the beginning of a corporate
nightmare that took us from ear-
ly March to mid-June.
When the dress, which was or-
dered in early March, hadn't ar-
rived by early June, we got edgy.
After all, our salesperson at
Neiman assured us — repeated-
ly—that it was on its way. When
we got mad, her supervisor called
to inform us that the folks at Hei-
di Weisel didn't know quite what
we wanted; they hadn't received
specs for the dress.
But, the supervisor assured us
in an unctuous manner more com-
mon to presidents of oil companies
or banks, they were terribly sorry
about the "miscommunication."
The dress, as soon as it was made,
would arrive forthwith.
It did arrive, two weeks before
the wedding, and not at all
tailored to my frame.
Which required round-
\ the-clock cutting and
\ sewing to get it right.
Neiman had no an-
swer as to why Hei-
di Weisel didn't get
the measurements
Neiman took at the
store.
A week later, after I
had tried on the fin-
ished version of the
dress and was
getting back

into my street clothes,
our person at Neiman
burst through the
dressing room door
with a visitor. "Meet
Heidi Weisel," she an-
nounced.
Standing there in my knee-
highs and half-buttoned blouse,
I smiled weakly at the sporty,
elegant designer standing in
the doorway. You should have
seen the dress, I said half-heart-
edly.
If you sense some residual
anger, you would be right.
I could have bought another
dress and had it altered by ear-
ly April.

Coda

Yesterday — five days before
the wedding — I got the fifth or
so call of the day from my mom.
"Are you sure we shouldn't use
the napkins at the wedding?" she
asked. ❑