With just three months to go until the wedding, my husband-to-be has still not sorted his suit. This, I'm sure, is a familiar statement to many brides, and one which I can't decide if I should be annoyed/worried about or not.
The groom's suit is a funny thing. It's his version of the dress but the importance placed on it is so different as to be incomparable. I began cutting dress pictures out of magazines as soon as we got engaged; he wasn't even sure if he wanted tails or a suit. I visited seven bridal boutiques over two weeks with my best friends; he popped into Moss Bros alone on his lunchbreak. I spent thousands; he will struggle to spend £100.
But the real difference isn't the general amount of preparation and thought that goes into it, but the people involved. Because, of course, I am allowed to see "the suit" but if he even glimpsed a picture of "the dress" the earth would presumably spin off its axis and the wedding gods would rain floral centre pieces and engagement rings down upon us all. And therein lies the problem – the suit is yet another thing on my to do list.
Don't get me wrong, I want to help him choose the most important outfit he'll ever wear. And not just because I want to make sure he gets something he's comfortable in and doesn't clash with the bridesmaids, but because it's a nice thing to do together. But it's not the only thing we have to do. We have food to select, wines to taste, gazebos to buy (a new development I won't go into here), invitations to print (god, we're late on that front), honeymoon hotels to book, decorations to buy/make, flowers to approve, readings and vows to choose.... if I go on my head will explode.
With just three months to go, just 13 weeks before the big day, just 89 days left to achieve everything in, I'm starting to panic just a smidge. We are organised but every day this week has some wedding-related task in the diary and Rough Guides' wedding email people saw fit to drop a cheerful reminder about that damn suit into my inbox just this morning. So those stress levels are rising. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment at Moss Bros to get to.
The groom's suit is a funny thing. It's his version of the dress but the importance placed on it is so different as to be incomparable. I began cutting dress pictures out of magazines as soon as we got engaged; he wasn't even sure if he wanted tails or a suit. I visited seven bridal boutiques over two weeks with my best friends; he popped into Moss Bros alone on his lunchbreak. I spent thousands; he will struggle to spend £100.
But the real difference isn't the general amount of preparation and thought that goes into it, but the people involved. Because, of course, I am allowed to see "the suit" but if he even glimpsed a picture of "the dress" the earth would presumably spin off its axis and the wedding gods would rain floral centre pieces and engagement rings down upon us all. And therein lies the problem – the suit is yet another thing on my to do list.
Don't get me wrong, I want to help him choose the most important outfit he'll ever wear. And not just because I want to make sure he gets something he's comfortable in and doesn't clash with the bridesmaids, but because it's a nice thing to do together. But it's not the only thing we have to do. We have food to select, wines to taste, gazebos to buy (a new development I won't go into here), invitations to print (god, we're late on that front), honeymoon hotels to book, decorations to buy/make, flowers to approve, readings and vows to choose.... if I go on my head will explode.
With just three months to go, just 13 weeks before the big day, just 89 days left to achieve everything in, I'm starting to panic just a smidge. We are organised but every day this week has some wedding-related task in the diary and Rough Guides' wedding email people saw fit to drop a cheerful reminder about that damn suit into my inbox just this morning. So those stress levels are rising. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment at Moss Bros to get to.
