Lilly on the Spot: a Society Wedding

This time, it’s the turn of Marie Claire Magazine to put me on the spot with a one-question, sixty-second fashion interview. Ingrid, their Senior Fashion Editor, rings me up when I’m putting out the recycling and I take the call in the street, much to the amusement of my neighbour Pete who is washing his car.

Marie Claire: ‘Lilly, our readers would love to know what you would wear to a big society wedding?’

Lilly: ‘I just love a nice wedding, don’t you? And a big society wedding? Well, I could go really posh, couldn’t I! I think it would be best to wear something classically understated and put all the effort into one detail. And that would have to be a fascinator – something I would never have the opportunity to wear normally. It would be based around the tail feather of a Bower Bird – that’s the one where it’s the male that prances around looking absolutely fabulous, just like me! The feather, of course, would be a fake because Lilly loves animals. 

I would practise my curtsies in front of the mirror and put some swing into them to really get my fascinator quivering. Not knowing which of the wedding guests were actual aristocrats I would curtsy to everyone. I would arrive early at the church – sorry, the Abbey – to get a good seat. I would say I was ‘with the bride’ even if I wasn’t, just so I could reach out and touch her dress as she floated past down the aisle. 

I would ignore the pointed comments from the people behind me who felt my fascinator got it their way, but I would make a right fuss when two Household Cavalry officers wearing plumed silver helmets sit in front of me and completely block my view. Some people! I would blub during the marriage vows and have to nip behind a column to touch up my mascara. 

After the photos on the steps outside it would be me, of course, who catches the bouquet. One of the cavalry officers would make a nuisance of himself but I would lose him by tacking on at the back of the Bishop’s procession back to the Vestry. 

I would probably get horribly drunk at the reception and get driven home by a frightfully posh, and horribly horsey family from Marlow.


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