MatureDJ
Master Don Juan
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Last year, approximately 13,000 weddings in America cost $1 million or more, according to the consulting firm Think Splendid.
At one of Marcy Blum’s recent weddings, on a private estate in Palm Beach, Florida, she built her clients a miniature golf course.
Blum declined to tell me how much the mini golf added to the budget. But some of her clients spend $2 million or $3 million on their wedding—about $8,000 a head.
The day of the wedding, her clients will fly in professional dressers like the ones who work for the stylist Julie Sabatino’s company, The Stylish Bride. Sabatino’s website refers to her dressers as “ladies in waiting” and shows them wearing white gloves and little aprons. The starting rate for just one is $2,450; a luxury wedding sometimes has 10. They sew and they press and they “do the bow ties,” Blum told me; they’ll pin garments into place and follow the bride around with a water bottle with a straw in it so she can drink without ruining her lipstick.
We did Whose Wedding Is It Anyway? a couple more times, but as I got better at my job, I had a harder time pretending to be overwhelmed or anxious about things I could do in my sleep. Our last foray into television came in 2014. It was a chance to star in a new show whose concept was extreme weddings. We were assigned a ceremony for 70 guests at the base of a dormant volcano in Hawaii. The shoot involved the bride entering by helicopter and six hours of setup and taping under the hot sun on black lava with no restroom. The entire thing went off smoothly. But reality TV doesn’t appreciate expertise—we knew they’d never pick up the show.
I once worked with a bride who had all of her wedding gifts sent to our office. I was confused until I realized that it gave her an excuse to keep stopping by. She knew that her fiancé was cheating on her, and she needed someone to talk with about it. They still got married, though, and had a resplendent wedding brunch. (I love a wedding brunch.)
When the weddings were over, many of our couples would take us out for a reunion meal, where they would spend hours reminiscing and reliving their favorite moments. Sometimes these nights were fun; sometimes, less so. I got divorced right before one of these dinners, and over appetizers the bride asked me what had gone wrong. “I guess I just felt dead inside,” I said. Later, she followed me to the ladies’ room. When I came out of the stall, she was waiting for me. “I feel dead inside too,” she said.