Last night we were at the other wedding. Not the union between the richest young man in the country, the Duke of Westminster, and Olivia Henson, but my stepdaughter Tibbs’ celebration of her wedding to Piers.
Coincidentally, they got married at a registry office last week, but aren’t letting the triumphant ceremony and glorious wedding lunch, nor an engagement party last summer, get in the way of a big party. So this weekend it was off to Hastings for a knee up.
Despite already having a delightful seven-month-old daughter, there was never any doubt about the appeal of not only marriage, but a real party. Weddings are the big occasion for millennials.
They fly around the world to organize bridal bouquets and bachelorette parties. The festivities can last for days. Don’t even think about just one wedding dress; every day calls for a whole new wardrobe.
Luckily, the original plan to fly all of us to Kenya for a party on the beach was shelved due to logistics – even getting us to the south coast required enough planning.
Despite the discrepancy in bank balances, there will have been many similarities between our party and the goings on at Chester Cathedral and Eaton Hall. Considering the Westminsters have instituted ‘summer clothes, no ties or jumpsuits allowed’ as the dress code (although morning suits were certainly worn to church), I imagine the crowd would have looked the same.
There must have been enough incredibly attractive young people gathered to make some of us feel a) a little old and b) glad that such people still exist. But the Duke’s guests will have had to deal with a formal reception and an evening party, while we had a week between lunch and the party to put on our dancing shoes and tuck into pizza. But the hangovers will undoubtedly be much the same.
Memories are best kept in a leather album
As a result of these wedding events, I have a lot of new photos on my phones. Not just the ones I took, but the endless offers that come through on a WhatsApp group to show everyone’s photos. They’re a joy in the moment, but they don’t compare to the traditional album that you can look back on for years to come.
I know a woman who has kept hers religiously for 60 years and they are a joy for anyone to look through and a wonderful record of the centuries.
It’s one of those tasks that we all say we’ll be able to complete one day. Although I started mine as a teenager, I am now at least ten years behind on payments.
Our digital footprints are valuable, but nothing beats a leather-bound book with – and this is important – names and dates, preserving the precious treasure of memories.
Sienna’s look is hard to get right
Smart MRS to have the Boho princess, Sienna Molenaar, not only modeling a new collection for M&S, but also helping to design it. Just like Kate Moss did for Topshop years ago, Sienna has handed over her favorite items to be copied by the team, in the expectation that we will all want to adopt a little bit of her style. And of course we do that too.
The range is sold out as crowds of us wander around in her lacy Victorian-style white blouse, Indian print tunic, silk pajama suit or ombre slip dress and macramé bag, hoping we’ve managed to elicit even a little bit of her carelessness . .
The Boho Princess Sienna Miller is not only modeling a new collection for M&S, but also helping to design it
The original bohemian women like Rolling Stones muse Anita Pallenberg (pictured) never worried about blow-drying and manicures
The range is sold out as crowds of us wander around in her lacy Victorian style white blouse, Indian print tunic, silk pajama suit or ombre slip dresses.
The appeal of boho is that it is meant to be easy and youthfully carefree.
The bohemian women who encapsulate it are people like Dorelia, the dressed-up wife of the painter Augustus John in her flowing robes, the doomed Talitha Getty in her expensive hippie rags, and the Rolling Stones’ muse, Anita Pallenberg. They didn’t bother with blow-drying and manicures.
Unfortunately, the reality of boho is that it is very difficult to pull off. You only have to look at the photos of Sienna in her original outfits, combined with the new collection, to see that it is not the clothes themselves, but the person wearing them that gives boho its appeal.
I hate the idea of age limits on clothing, but that embroidered smock and jeans, or slip dress with motorcycle boots, definitely has an expiration date.
What once looked wonderfully boho suddenly looks like a mess. What was once casually sexy can give the impression that you haven’t bought anything new since the ’70s. Take it from me. I have been there.
Titans reduced to mere mannequins
Louis Vuitton’s latest luggage campaign features two tennis titans, Rafael Nadal and Roger Federer, photographed by Annie Leibovitz. The pair pose as hikers carrying colorful ropes in their LV monogrammed backpacks.
Roger Federer (left) and Rafael Nadal (right) say an emotional farewell after the announcement that the doubles match would be the last of Federer’s career
The chance to appear in this lucrative and stylish advertising campaign will be some sort of compensation for Nadal, who crashed out of the French Open in the first round, but for two such incredible athletes, whose bodies are capable of extraordinary strength, it has to be a bit be creepy. to find themselves in aspic, two motionless mannequins.
A real crime that was eerily close
The Mail’s podcast The Trial of Lord Lucan has caused strange flashbacks. I was ten that night and we lived near the Belgravia house where Sandra Rivett was murdered.
Although I couldn’t have known at the time the details of what was going on, I was aware that something sinister was happening along the way, and I remember looking anxiously out of the bedroom window and hearing sirens.
Further information was obtained from Ron, our nanny’s friend, who worked at Gerald Road Police Station next to Lucan’s rented flat.
It made the drama eerily close to home.
The Mail’s The Trial of Lord Lucan podcast follows the disappearance of Lord Lucan and the murder of Sandra Rivett
Why I don’t get a buzz from bees
I know we are all meant to love our bees. Look at the King’s bond with David Beckham through their shared apiary systems.
But as the weather warms up and they come in through our open bedroom window from the beehives in the park outside, my gentle, nurturing, honey-loving self is being somewhat challenged.
