To Kilt or Not to Kilt?

That is the big question of the moment. Pretty sure it's a yes on the kilting of The Groom and his Dudes, but so far he's not made a lot of progress on the research and procurement front. I said I'd sew them (insert gasp of horror here) if he found the material he wants, but so far it's at a standstill.

I did find an awesome pattern, and darling ML, our dear friend who I used to work with in the travel agent days, is an excellent seamstress and has offered her help (thank the lord, hallelujah).

But the tartan fabric, that's the Precious right now. Try 57 Brittish Pounds a yard (!) for the real deal from the basements of Edinburgh and I don't even know what from anywhere else. And it's about $125 to rent a done up one (includes, like, the big safety pin, but none of the other goodies). I would die of happiness if Joosh agreed to go with black kilts and button up shirts. Easy peasy lemon damn squeezey. And look how cute.

Of course there's always this What-Ari-Emmanuel-Would-Wear-If-He-Was-A-Douchebag-Scottish-Hollywood-Agent-Instead-Of-A-Jewish-One possible outcome with the whole black kilt scenario, so one must be careful.

Originally I'd wanted just pants and suspenders, very old timey, a al this adorable Fanfarlo video:


So button-up shirt with a kilt and none of the fancy jacket/socks/manbag-ball protector/knife accoutrement would be awesome in my mind, and a reasonable compromise. But I'm pretty sure he's set on the whole Blackwatch tartan thing, possibly including all the dressy gear. I hope not, though, because lord will that eff up my cazsh vision (and I use "vision" pretty loosely here, rather than in all the seriousness of words like "tablescape" and "event design" that get bandied about quite a little bit in the bins of all things Bridal). It's really hard to picture all that jazz at what will essentially look and feel like an overdone picnic.

An example of all the trimmings, I'm sure you've seen it before:

More fancy pants(less) here.

And here.

And here. (This last one goes out to KDog, as that is indeed Darth Maul in ruffles and a kilt - bow chicka bow bow).

Kilts do look the most delicious on the actual Scots, I'd say, such as this one (rowr, purrrrrr) and this one (ditch the eagle, and I'd be happy to sit in its place).




Hey, you think if I showed Joosh this photo of Captain Mal Reynolds looking saucey in just a plain black (and strangely made of leather...) kilt, he'd go for it? I mean, yes, dude should be strung up for the sock length (higher or lower, buddy, just not that dreadful midcalf thing you've stumbled upon) and the shoe combo, but other than that, I think it's really working for him. And plus, you know, it's Mal. He can get away with pretty much anything.

Unlike grooms, who I've been told by all the ettiquette books* and common wedding lore, are supposed to just nod and smile and do what their brides tell them to do. Clearly the people who write such things have never met the Joosh, am I right? Because as exceptional as he is, he's getting away with matrimonial murder on the planning front...

The debate will rage on, no doubt.

*Who am I kidding? Have I read a single wedding ettiquette book? NO. So please, let me apologize in advance to all the people I am going to inadvertantly offend in this process. I can say with utmost and preemptive certainty that I meant no ill will.

**Update on the expensiveness factor: Never fear, Kiltmart is here! I'm sure those aren't cheap and whorey at all, right? No danger of looking like a slutty girl's Contempo Casuals cast-off, right? Oy.

So yeah, about that whole wedding thing...

The last of you lovely ladies to get hitched did so over three years ago. It was a fabulous, gorgeous, wonderful, pretty damn perfect good time. I loved it. I loved being the Maid of Honor, I loved all the hustle and bustle and flurry of activity ahead of time, I loved how totally and completely beautiful everyone looked, loved the details, the food, the dancing, the ambiance, the everything. It was like something out of a magazine. Or, rather, it was like something out of a wedding blog.

Which brings to me to my first point, both of this post and this entire new blog-e-lement: Oh. My. God. Have you visited the Wedding Porn blogosphere of late? It. Is. IN. SANE. Insane, girls, I'm not kidding. Like crackity crack crack crack crazy insane: make your eyes roll in pleasure and rot your teeth out of your head nutso.

Don't believe me? Let me introduce you to just one such needle in the arm of a jonesing bride: Once Wed. This ain't your mama's Martha Stewart Weddings, my friends. And it's not your older sibs' The Knot.com, fluffy poufta ballgown and a hundred giant centerpieces to return before hopping on the plane to the Bahamas either. This is all kinds of vintagey, DIY, homegrown, unique, unusual, interesting, and (most importantly) photojournalistically chronicled wedding shenanigans. And it's fucking crazy.

That's just one of about a hundred similar sites wildfire-speed spreading out in the net verse, by the way (don't worry, I'll link to a few more for your I-should-be-working-right-now-shit! time wasting pleasure). There are all kinds of angles being covered out there: Do-it-yourself, backyard weddings, weddings under "X" thousand bucks, Offbeat weddings for kookoo alternative types from Seattle with tattoos and dyed hair and a fondness for hula hoops (secretly love it, love it all). Intimate weddings, destination weddings, big glamorous Old Hollywood themed weddings, Circus-themed weddings (LOVE. IT.), loft weddings, art gallery weddings, Farm/Barn weddings (pay attention, loves), old-timey depression era weddings (ditto)... it's like someone fed the Wedding Gremlin after midnight and now the multiplying is beyond the control of mortal man.

Now, the one of you that got married the second most recently was all the way back in 2005, which is practically infant baby gaga time in the realm of wedding planning. That was like, notebooks and pencils and pages torn out of Brides magazine and Martha Stewart Weddings. And yet, you managed to have a totally beautiful, serene, intimate, sweet, gorgeous, touching, connected wedding all the same. Of course I do realize that it was practically a full time job to plan and execute the whole affair...

Which brings me to my next point, and thus the truest reason for this blog-a-rena: It is a fucking full time job to plan even a simple, homey, just-like-a-party-but-a-little-bigger-and-with-slightly-more-stuff-to-do-while-eating-and-drinking-and-shmoozing wedding. It appears to be a shit-ton of work, cost an unbelievable amount of money, and require WAY too many decisions be evaluated and considered and finalized along the way. Amby does not approve, I just want to go on record as having said that.

And that having been said, I need your help. Not, like, a ton of help, just a little bit of feedback, from you, my lovely crew of attendants and friends, as the planning begins in earnest. It's a new year (the one in which I will apparently be wed, or so I am told, if all goes according to plan, or plans as yet to come into conceptual being let alone be fruitionified) and June will be here before I know it, and, well, I guess I have some decisions to make. So unless we act on the recent fantasies about saying fuck it all to an actual wedding and running off to Scotland (where have you heard that before? and how many years ago? no matter, cause it still lives on mighty strong in the hearts and minds that reside in the Sanders/Mills household, I gotta tell you), it would appear that there are quite a few details to sort and settle on, some of which will directly involve you (dresses!) and some which will be peripheral (why can't the recessional song be Mena Mena, as done by the Muppets?) and others which will only matter to me, the crazed-eyed Bride (OH. MY. FUCKINGGODI'MABRIDEWHATTHEHELL?) and possibly the deer-in-headlights man who will playing the part of the Groom in this little orchestration.

Ready? Two-four-seven-13-24-HIKE! Er... Let's GO!