The MGM costumer Helen Rose (1904 - 1985) designed the dress for Grace Kelly's wedding to Prince Ranier of Monaco in 1956.



Thelma, Viscountess Furness, (1904 - 1970) writes in Double Exposure, (written with her twin sister Gloria Morgan Vanderbilt) that "I went to Patou for my wedding dress - a lovely bois-de-rose crepe de Chine with a matching long coat bordered at the sleeves and hem with soft, silky lynx.  Reboux designed a very pretty turban of the same material." 

At the wedding I attended this past weekend in Dallas, the ring bearers, brothers, four and six, wore adorable little tails and silver brocade vests and white ties to match the groom and the best man (their father) and I meant to ask the matron of honor (their mother) if their ties were real or clip-on but didn't because they had only just found out they were not in fact going to be trusted with the real rings in the execution of their duties.  

"So we're fake ring bearers," the older brother announced, crestfallen at this revelation.  His younger sibling on the other hand, coloring with the flower girl on the church vestibule floor, seemed oblivious and even perhaps slightly relieved.  The pressure was off.  

This was just the beginning of unanticipated developments for our young member of the wedding party.  At the reception he was served chicken fingers and french fries and a glass of milk in advance of the actual wedding feast while the grownups mingled over canapes and champagne.  You could see him give the bottle of Heinz ketchup a withering glance, since even he was aware of how incongruous it appeared in the midst of the silver and crystal and damask and floral arrangements, yet still he remained composed.  The cupcakes in lieu of wedding cake, however, were simply too much for the fellow, already robbed of his duty and sensing sham and breaches of etiquette everywhere he turned.  Tears ensued.  A deal was eventually cut, but the cupcakes were refused, his cohorts joining him in solidarity. 

"I shall have wedding cake tomorrow," he explained in a dignfied tone of stiff-lipped resignation and with a note of long-suffering only convincingly achieved by Royalty and the very young. 

I told him he'd made a wise choice, but you could see that in the moment my words brought little solace.  Escorted from the scene, he gave us one last sad and lingering look before departing with his handlers. 

In the end, the cake -- a Mexican chocolate-raspberry confection -- was delicious and would, I felt certain, be deemed worth the wait.   As for the offending cupcakes, at some point in the evening I decided they would not be missed and had them as a side dish.  I must confess, though, the extra sugar may have contributed to a subsequent restless evening, the late rising, the hurried and haphazzard packing and the suit jacket left behind in my hotel room.  An omission I discovered upon my return home.

Everything considered, however, it was a lovely affair.  A beautiful bride, a charming groom, everyone looking their best and a good time had by all.