Readers may be interested to hear the most popular period for marriages runs from May to October. When I read this tidbit I thought it must also be a busy time for choosing bridesmaids.
At this point I should confess I had but a short career as a bridesmaid.
My younger sister and I were bridesmaids when my older sister got married. The day was grey and brought wind as cold as gold off the Tyne. We wore chaplets of artificial flowers and shivered in ankle-length taffeta dresses featuring wide scalloped collars. At least our matching muffs kept our hands warm. Unfortunately, given the role we played we were unable to roam surrounding streets as we often did looking for a bride and her relatives leaving for her wedding. It was the local custom for such parties to toss pennies from the taxi as it left for the ceremony, forming a nice supplement to our pocket money. We always knew where to take up position by a front door because the wedding taxis were immediately recognisable by white ribbons stretched from roof to bonnet.
My next spell of bridesmaid duty was for the afore-mentioned younger sister's nuptials. My dress was probably purchased, unlike the home-sewn duds we'd worn as children, inasmuch as it resembled the type of dress that might have been worn at, say, a cocktail party, had such things existed round our way. It had full skirts and its main feature was a boat-shaped neckline not quite off the shoulder, so suitable for a church wedding. I'm sorry to say my thoughts drifted a bit during the ceremony -- it will be no surprise my school report cards were occasionally marked "must pay more attention" -- but when my sister turned to hand me her bouquet, I fortunately was able to snap immediately out of whatever daydream I was wandering in and take it as it was offered.
On another occasion I was with three others, all of us strangers to the town where mutual friends were getting married. Thus it took longer than anticipated to find the registry office where the ceremony was to take place. Our journey to the venue was notable not only for its awful weather but also for featuring an incident when a large lorry got far too close to us as we passed it. Looking out from my back seat I could see the huge hubs on its wheels spinning almost, it seemed at the time, a hand's width away and suddenly enormous as they approached ever closer.
We were strangers to the town where the wedding was to take place and it took us longer than anticipated to find the registry office. When we finally found the building its door appeared to be locked. So we walked around the back and found a window. Looking in, we could see the registrar's back and the happy couple and their guests facing us. We stood outside in sleety rain, present at the wedding and yet not present, a Schrödinger's quartet watching the proceedings through the glass and doubtless looking like the orphans of the storm to those within. Especially since I was holding a baby while his mother was soothing a fretful toddler.
Mr Maywrite and I married late in the year in one of the less popular months. In honour of the occasion he wore a tie. Meantime, in the interests of historical accuracy, I shall reveal my dress was black with a mille-fleur pattern. Yes, the bride wore black. Judge Valentino from down the street presided over the proceedings. Feel free to make jokes about it -- everyone else has!
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