London Calling

What I did, drank and wore the week leading up to my wedding.

I still have a lot to unpack about my wedding, both emotionally and physically as I stare at my last unopened suitcase, so I suppose I should start!

I kicked off my wedding week feeling about three days away from death. I got an emergency at home IV drip that cost a fortune and made me feel so much worse.

I had to pack for a week in London, the wedding and then a week in Spain where Owen and I were doing a mini moon at Son Net in Mallorca followed by me joining Sara on a girl’s trip for her 40th, and while the four suitcases may seem insane, I have to give myself credit; the pink see-through RIMOWA had my Veil and three Gigi Burris hats, and nothing else. The night before I left was quite surreal. Owen was already in Milan for work so I was solo, sitting on the floor with my dress laying on the sofa behind me. The Sofa I had fought with CB2 for three months during the pandemic because it kept getting cancelled and rather than give up, I got a Japanese floor mattress that I would roll out to watch movies. I was instantly reminded of one of the awful one-syllable named men I was dating at the time who would incessantly make fun of me for not just getting something else. When it finally came and finally he came over, he couldn’t understand how it had no arms. “THIS is what you’ve been waiting for all this time?” Well, it certainly wasn’t you Gary. Tom, one of my best guy friends who spoke at our wedding calls my apartment “Tiny House.” He can’t understand how Owen and I have cohabitated in this small West Village one bedroom for nearly a year. The thing is, I have a deep attachment to this apartment. It was the first thing I ever really did completely on my own; a one bedroom in the West Village based on my credit score and own money was the biggest pipe dream when I was in my 20s trying to make it. My family always helped where and how they could, but in the world of real estate I was mostly on my own. I’ve had every season of life within Tiny House. I’ve experienced the deepest disappointment across love, friendship and employment (one time, even all in one week!) and from that, completely re-built my life. Although my world and dreams have gotten bigger since I moved in the summer of 2020, the apartment has not and I’m keenly aware that my time here is numbered. That night I went downstairs to Via Carota, sat at the bar, had a martini and a meal, solo and celebrated that not only was it my wedding, but I had stepped into the woman that I had always dreamed of becoming.

My longest, possibly most toxic relationship has been with Delta. As a very single person I would imagine the time that I finally boarded the plane with my wedding gown and the fuss they would make about it. Maybe there would be a handwritten note from the pilot, def the better champagne. Alas, no one really gave a fuck. In fact, the flight attendant seemed annoyed she had to make space for my gown in the closet.

You know who did give a fuck however? Me. As you can tell from reading my wedding specific substack, I was not shy about the fact that this was my “wedding era” and I was planning on enjoying every last bit of it. Plus I had more white to wear.

additional white, pictured here.

My plan was to enjoy Claridges, get on the London time zone, hit the spa and really just ease into the week. And it almost worked. After not the softest landing, I was greeted by my incompetent linen vendor letting me know that my table linens for the dinner reception were destroyed by a previous event, but not to fear, they had a velvet option for me in kind of the same color. Formal rant pending next steps. After having a good shout and a cry, I got ready for my high tea with my co-Maids of honor Jamie and Sara, Flower Girl Raffaella and two of our dear friends Danika and Samantha, who also came a bit early to start the celebrations for Sara’s 40th, which was that Friday. We headed down the street to The Connought for what was an extra sweet time. I’m wearing my now sold out favorite Doen pants, but I suggest the Felise for summer, my Jimmy Choo bridal workhorses and a vintage Chanel Blazer I bought at my favorite Paris Vintage store, Plaisir Palace that I planned to wear to one of my wedding events three years before I knew Owen existed.

I was really there for the Champagne and company, rather the tea & sympathy.

Raffaella jumping for joy

Later on we went to my client Veronica Beard’s party to kick off the Chelsea Flower show, which was also happening that week. I fortunately was more of a guest than a PR at that function, which was greatly appreciated. It was great to see the incredible work that our friend, and very well dressed florist Kelsie Hayes of Popup Florist did for VB.

For dinner and drinks that night, we went to At Sloane, a place dear to Owen and I, as it was one of the most fun nights we ever had together on the trip that made us as a couple. My girl Morgan Stewart was unable to join us in London, but she was able to send clothes, and that almost made it okay. This Renggli Organza two piece I have been wearing in many iterations since its debut, pictured here.

I spent Wednesday doing some last minute beauty appointments and planning in time to finish and meet Cousin Mia and her husband Fred at Harrods to sip and shop. This was also the day that my twenty-three family members from the states descended upon London. All the anticipation and planning had come to a head and it felt like this was now finally happening. That night Owen’s father and Step-Mother came to meet us, plus Matt, Paolo, Sara, Jamie and her family for dinner at a casual Pub on the Thames that Owen suggested. I not so secretly was sad he wasn’t there to help entertain our families together, and also, just enjoy this time together. At the same time I also had a premonition that Owen was going to show up and it wasn’t just because I had an incredible reading with Lisa Stardust that Monday night. I was right and out of nowhere he appeared to everyone clapping and me crying.

Owen and his father very cooly didn’t let on that Owen’s rental car had been broken into while we were at dinner. His laptop, bag and phone were stolen. When we got back to Claridges in a bright yellow rental car with a broken window, we needed to decompress. We ran into Erika in the lobby with her plus one and joined them for a bottle of bubbles that set us straight.

One of the best things I have ever planned, was this damn tour bus the following day.

We were quite literally herding Katz (even tho this was my Italian side of the family) around London, some of whom did not walk well and all of whom loved to drink. I booked Le Grand Bus Tour, which took us around all the hotspots of London with high tea service. Afterwards, Owen took the boys for a cigar nearby at the Emory and I took the girls back to Claridges, where Aunt Carol treated to the only tea service we were really after, cocktails. We had a quick change for the first official night of Wedding programming, a pub quiz at the Hillgate in Notting Hill - this and more I very much look forward to sharing formally soon!