One year ago, my alarm signaled that it was 5am and I crept into the dark living room to watch the coverage in London of the royal wedding. I made tea and snuggled up with Luna Bell, both of us fuzzy eyed from the early wakeup call but so excited to see history in the making. I watched as the newscasters speculated about what everyone would wear, well knowing there was only one dress that mattered.
And then she emerged from the hotel and got into the car, en route to Westminster. I still remember gasping, tears welling up. Now that was a bride. That was romance personified. Sheer and utter perfection.
A year later and not only are they still married but homegirl continues to hit fashion home run after fashion home run. If that isn’t cause for celebration, I don’t know what is.
Yes, I have nostalgia for a wedding that not only wasn’t mine but that I didn’t even attend. So sue me.