Working at LWS London

A couple of weeks ago saw the grand week end of the Luxury Wedding Show London. Held at the Saatchi gallery, every bridezilla and groom to be could be seen roaming the gallery staring lovingly into each others eyes.
Despite the bridezilla syndrome being widely covered and analyzed, pinned down and medicated, I have never yet read an article that mentions the surprising – and you would think endearing – Eager Beaver Groom virus. This would seem to be spreading fast.
Not content of having a beautiful (sometimes), clever (not always), charming (occasional) wife to be, these men come into their own when it is time to pick ribbon colours, chair covers (please… No), and arranging flowers. Obviously coming from the heart, this may not be quite as disturbing if they were not MORE (yes you read correctly: more) enthusiastic than their doe eyed fiancee who is being dragged around while he holds the goody bags (incidentally, not a bad goody bag at all). Do not get me wrong, how great is it to be happy to wed? But delighted at the sight of the pink frilly cushions that carry the rings (this surely must have a name)? I think not.
The Luxury Wedding Show London, therefore, despite everyone’s delight left me stone cold (then again, I am not a bride to be). Even the couples at the height of love and all the sweet scented flowers could not turn my head, and made me think a backyard gathering might one day be the best solution!
One highlight was the designer wedding dress catwalk show. Some amusement(one of the models narrowly avoiding a rather embarrassing fall) some champagne, and some fashion was all it took. Major disappointment when catching Vivienne Westwood’s bridal range (Viv, you let me down, there is no way I will every wed in blood red), but major delight when admiring Alice Temperley’s designs.
Temperley dresses I love you. And after a day of thinking that this hard sale marriage malaki was just NOT for me, you made me want to marry five times, just to wear your retro feel, silky selves. So one day, in Temperley I shall marry. Husband? Sorry? I cannot hear you. Detail! Who needs one of those when you have a Temperley dress?

Love (pass the bucket)
E.

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