by James Tuttle
Have you ever seen the show My Fair Wedding, in which wedding planner David Tutera takes a delusional bride-to-be’s mess of a nuptial and transforms it into an admirable occasion? I recently watched an episode where he had to deal with an “Indonesia meets Las Vegas set in a Winter Wonderland” theme that some poor stupid girl and her dumb-ass husband had come up with. I must say, he pulled it off beautifully.
I became intimately familiar with My Fair Wedding when our dear friend Lisa stayed a few days with us last month and watched back-to-back episodes until they finally cast the lead actress in the “good twin versus bad twin” Lifetime movie she was costume designing and she had to go to work. Lisa and I have been planning her wedding for several years now and it has undergone many transformations, from a Borgia castle in Italy to a ballroom at the Biltmore, so I personally know a bit about this wedding business. Something about that Tutera guy bugs me, even though he’s excellent at what he does. It’s something subtle. Maybe it’s that his hair is dyed too black or he’s still sporting a fauxhawk in 2011. I think it might be that his sweetly cloying manner only slightly masks the hissing, foot-stomping queen that you just know is right under the surface.
From a fashion standpoint, La Tutera does an admirable job of scrapping the bride’s original dress choice, if necessary, and putting them in something that looks great. The transformation of the bridesmaids is what is really incredible. In most cases, he could just rip off the dresses off and burn them. That would already be a huge improvement. But he goes one step further and puts them in something that is appropriate, flattering and still goes along with the crazy wedding theme of the week.
There’s some debate as to whether this whole wedding category is really part of the bona fide Fashion World but that’s a discussion that could get really nasty so, conflict avoidant WASP that I am, I’d really rather not get into it.
Speaking of weddings, it’s been a few days since that big one in London so I’m hoping we can begin to put things into perspective and stop gushing. I personally couldn’t stay awake to watch it because it was on at 3 a.m. here in Los Angeles but I managed to see the arrivals up to Becks and Posh before I hit the hay. Some of my clients were actually surprised that I didn’t personally attend the wedding. I guess they assume that all polo players are automatically invited to Royal Wedding kinds of things. Well, at least I would have looked the part.
By now, nearly anything that could be said about that wedding has been said. I have one last thing to add, though. What the fuck was up with those fucking hats? I’m all for going out on a fashion limb, assuming you’ll look fabulous, but some terrible things were happening on the catwalks of Westminster Abbey. There were doilies with feathers stuck over the ear and gravity defying horned saucers clinging to the forehead. It’s been alleged that Philip Treacy created at least eighty hats for guests at the wedding, so, if you imagine that half of the nineteen hundred guests were women, it would mean that over 8.4% of them were wearing his odd creations—enough, I think, to create a definite atmosphere at the proceedings. I’ve always been a big fan of Treacy, but this really wasn’t his season, no matter how much the obsequious Fashion Press is raving about him. I’m sorry, Fashion Press. You know I still love you, right?
Case in point, Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie both wore Treacy hats and might have been the hit of some drag burlesque show in Reno, even in their hideous dresses. Even if the dresses hadn’t been seen outside of Nevada, Vivienne Westwood and Valentino should still be quite embarrassed. Unfortunately, the girls stumbled around in their heels like they’d never worn shoes before. Drag artistes know how to walk in heels, ladies. If you’re going to attempt drag comedy, you need to practice. One could attempt to blame it on the princesses being hearty British stock, but my svelte friend Angela runs around Manchester in Louboutins like they’re track shoes. Game on.
When the cameras panned over the assembled crowd in the Abbey, it looked like a crowd scene from Alice in Wonderland with a not very good art director. Even though the twenty-foot trees in the nave were a good call, Buck House does need a new art director. Let me put this out there: I’m available, but I don’t work cheap.
So, I assume that we can all agree that the Wedding was a lovely B-12 shot for the Monarchy, what with Kate and William being so charming, H.M. the Queen being so bright (yellow), and the whole Succession thing tied up with a pretty bow. One still wonders, though, how David Tutera would’ve dealt with those pesky, horny hats.
In conclusion, don’t wear baggy underwear.