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L E G A N T B R I D E : By Amy Reiter Summer 2002 | "Elegant Bride" may have had a glossy new makeover, but it still stinks. Literally. The magazine's ad sales people have obviously been working overtime to get advertisers. Newsstand copies have been polybagged with three -- count 'em: three -- wedding-related catalogues and space has been sold off to a perfume peddler with a stench that could kill a fashionably festooned flower girl or a meddling mother-in-law in one sniff. The culprit? Vera Wang: the fragrance. Its overpowering aroma -- very nearly the smell of a scented maxipad -- would be reason alone to bypass this magazine. Plug your nose and dive into the contents, however, and you actually may find yourself flinging "Elegant Bride" across the room, curling up in fetal position and rocking back and forth chanting "they can't make me, they can't make me, they can't make me." Offensive bits of advice abound in this magazine. For instance, a bride who asks if she must put her parents' names on the invitations if they paid for the wedding is told that, yes, she absolutely has to advertise to the world that they wrote the big check "if you want to remain on speaking terms with your parents." (No suggestion is made that the bride ask her parents how they feel about the invitation wording. Is it possible that they will want only what makes her happy on her day and offered their financial support simply because they were pleased to be able to help -- and not because they wanted to advertise their deep pockets?) Or what about the bride who doesn't want to wear a veil? She's told that, while, OK, she doesn't have to wear a veil, if she looks hard enough, she'll find the right veil for her -- and it'll make her "really feel like a bride." Did someone out there mutter something about feeling like a bride having something to do with the joy of committing to someone you love in front of your assembled community of family and friends? Bah. What foolishness! Clearly the true sense of bridehood is all about a torrent of tulle gushing down from your towering updo. Other inquisitive brides are informed that they shouldn't stint on the welcome gifts (a "basket of local muchies," a "complete itinerary for the weekend's festivities" and a "personal note of welcome" are really de rigeur) and that a seated dinner may be better than a buffet because it "makes guests feel pampered and lets the party flow easier." The magazine is not called "Elegant Bride on a Budget," you know. Nor is it called "Elegant Bride and Groom." Unlike most of the other wedding magazines that crowd the stands, "Elegant Bride" makes not even the most cursory nod to the man you'll be marrying. In fact, the magazine's editors suggest you might want to pretend he doesn't exist while planning your fairy-tale day, too. "Brides often complain that grooms aren't interested in the wedding planning -- but be careful what you wish for. Do you really want his help?" the magazine asks. "The more he's involved, the less control you will have." So being a bride is not just about the veil -- it's about being totally alone behind the wheel of your bridal fantasy mobile, too. How romantic! It's also about remaking your face and body in your perfect bridal image -- and we're not talking about getting a new lipstick and getting your sorry booty to the gym. Nope. We're talking about pulling a total Michael Jackson. "The face of the traditional pre-wedding tune-up -- growing your hair longer and losing five pounds -- has changed," the magazine intones. In their quest for bridal perfection, "Elegant Bride" notes, "some brides are not letting Mother Nature stand in their way. And quick fixes are doing the trick." Collagen and Botox injections, glycolic facial peels, microdermabrasion, liposuction and breast augmentation are all wonderful new gadgets in your bridal toolbox, according to "Elegant Bride." The magazine even includes a timeline to keep you on surgical schedule before your big day. (Lipo at nine months, forehead lift at three months, breast surgery about six to eight weeks before to allow any nasty swelling to go down ...) Feeling doubtful? How old-fashioned of you. Why, even New York Times style writer Alex Kuczynski, feeling like an old bride at 33, took a shot of Botox right between the eyes in preparation for her big day. Kuczynski, by the way, is also a strong proponent of getting the timing right: "'You don't want to look like a stroke victim when you're standing at the altar,' she said, giggling." But a limited range of expression apparently never hurt anyone on one of the most emotionally strenuous days of her life, Kuczynski contends. After all, your inability to show joy in your eyes is apparently nothing compared to your horror should you find you have a wrinkle hanging out there for all the world to see and mock. Your wedding, she tells the magazine, is "just not the time that you want to be worried about having a wrinkle or two between your brows. And there's nothing a little Botox can't cure." Except maybe shallowness. And alas, no amount of Vera Wang toilet water will make "Elegant Bride" any deeper. Honestly, "Elegant Bride" even makes Martha Stewart look deep. In her opening letter in "Martha Stewart Weddings" Summer issue, Stewart declares, "I think most brides are conformists, but also individualists." And if the first part of that statement might chafe, after being told that as a bride you really should go under the knife to get yourself the perfect set of knockers, the last part suddenly seems refreshingly liberated. Why, it's almost enough to forgive the magazine for suggesting happy couples put together a "groomsmen's emergency kit" for the male attendants, including such essentials as a sewing kit, socks, a bow tie, shoe polish, shoelaces and a shoe buffing cloth -- oh, and a pocket square, whatever that is. It's also almost, but not quite enough, to forgive "Martha Stewart Weddings" editor Darcy Miller for again taking the opportunity to go on and on about her own wedding to Martha's buddy Andy Nussbaum and for printing their rather creepy wedding vows. Then again, reading Nussbaum's portion -- "Since the first time I met you, I wanted to make you happy, even when you draw those pictures of me that show me with less hair than I like to think I have" -- does make one feel somewhat grateful that the poor balding fellow didn't feel compelled to pull a Kuczynski and get some sort of surgical hair implant. In this issue, which contains a new section on old wedding photos -- this time featuring photos of the maternal and paternal grandparents of a Stewart staffer (way to cast a wide net, Martha) -- Martha also opens up a bit about the wedding habits of her own family. Martha's mother, we learn, eschewed the white wedding dress for a full-length rust-velvet number, wore a maid-like kerchief on her head and carried (gasp!) fake flowers. Martha herself insisted on a white dress, a hat and a veil. Her "something blue" was a satin garter. But that's something we'd rather not think about. Something else we'd rather not think about (but are sort of glad we know), courtesy of the Summer issue of "InStyle Weddings": Christina Applegate gave each of her five bridesmaids $330 Kiss My Toes heart-shaped, pavš-diamond toe rings as a token (a toe-ken?) of her appreciation. Now that's an elegant bride. ----------- Amy Reiter writes the "Nothing Personal" column for Salon.com. ----------- Are you obsessed with wedding magazines? Talk with other addicts in Kvetch |
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