You know how The Incredible Hulk goes from being an ordinary guy and then suddenly in rage turns into the green giant, normally to save the earth I grant you, I fear I know how he feels. I used to watch that show ‘Bridezilla’s’ and laugh at how crazy people get about weddings… this fat lad aint laughing (or singing) anymore.
In the past 48 hours I have had half of Warehouse UK quaking in my path for a start. I then had a blazing go at three people I hold very dear, this is not like me. I also madly babbled on the phone to my mother for 30 minutes again not so much like me. Yes I have become Groomzilla.
The Warehouse thing was over the Best Women’s dresses. It took us two full days of searching to finally find the right outfits that a) Mr B and I liked and b) they liked and c) were the right colour for the theme – since when did I care about themes? So after all this I had forgotten my cards and had to come back, by which time all 8 of the stores I trekked around yesterday, with Mr B scurrying to keep up, had sold out of mainly the dresses and then the ones in the sizes I needed. The internet fortunately had one for Mitch, but Muffintops… nowhere! Now a lot of people think, and I mainly agree, that Muffintop can suit anything, she is after all model like. ‘Occasion’ dresses stumped us, until the perfect dress appeared. So I phoned Warehouse today in one of my Groomzilla moods and had ‘Stacey’ shaking at my tone. I do feel bad and I do apologise, it wasn’t me it was Simon Groomzilla. The dress has been found and Warehouse are now fabulous in my eyes. And no I didn’t use the term ‘do you know I am a journalist?’ Groomzilla did and he should hang his head in shame. I have never done that before, well once.
We then spent a few hours by the pool, and I particularly in the pool under the orders of Mr B to ‘cool off’. After which we hit Soho for some drinks with our two friends who got married last weekend. On the way I wanted to pop in and see Clayton at Dirty White Boy only for some reason something came up and by the post box across the street I let rip at Mr B, I think he had laughed at something weddingy which you must NEVER EVER do in front of a potential Groomzilla. We wanted to get some nice ‘wedding night’ underwear however after several conversations with people that apparently is a myth as your too pissed, that’s another story I am sure.
We tried the food for the wedding a starter of which I sent back for being ‘bland’, this from a man who if given the worst food from the worst restaurant would not complain just silently sulk, and this was in one of my favourite restaurants. We have now decided the final meal options and are happy! Groomzilla disappeared only to rear his ugly head about 30 minutes later with two of his delightful friends the ‘recently married’.
I have mentioned before offering help and telling people what to do are two very different things. These drinks became a ‘this is what we did and therefore what you should do’. I ignored the ring advice, they are sorted and fabulous, I ignored the debate on champagne. I ignored the ‘we cant believe your not inviting some people to the meal’. However when the subject of cake came up, despite the tapping of Mr B’s leg on mine, I couldn’t help it. We don’t want a cake. ‘You don’t want a cake, you have to have cake, if you don’t buy a cake we will get one for you’. I lost it I said something a long the lines of ‘I know you two just got married and its really nice that your sharing, well telling us what we should do rather than sharing your advice but will you just back the fuck off, I don’t want a cake, people are having puddings I don’t need a cake and I certainly don’t want people buying me one I am likely to hate.’ I then went very silent funnily and soon we had left and Mr B had taken me to the Haagen Dazs Restaurant for a seriously large ice cream. Wedding talk was banned for the rest of the evening.
Tomorrow, praise be, I am having a day filled with work as I haven’t done any since I came back from Philly. I am meeting Mr David Llewellyn to interview him about him, his book etc. Then have a showcase in the early evening with cocktails and canapés, followed by the fabulous Polari, and not a word of wedding insight… bliss!