The Birminghamster
Lowe Knows




by Mrs. Lowe

June Brides Take Note

This time of year is a reminder to me of the time my son was getting married and I was shopping for a dress to wear to the wedding. Mind you it has been awhile but I have shopped a million miles since then and found similar scenarios in the higher end stores. At that time, however, you didn't get much higher end in the 'Ham than the Parisian Room. The story goes like this and hell yes, of course it's true!

The bride wished to have a candlelight wedding and all the bridesmaids were to wear lovely candlelight silk moire, of the period. I was also requested to wear candlelight and shopped long and hard until I found a suitable gown in the Parisian Room. I was also shopping for other dresses for the showers, teas, receptions, etc.

I located the dress on a sale rack and was escorted to a fitting "suite" by a lady who obviously was Old Mountain Brook money. I could tell by her hair-do, her puh-fume and the size of the rocks she wore. Her nails were done to perfection and she was impeccably dressed. Now, don't ask me why she was working in the Parisian Room. Maybe the old money had begun to drain away. Maybe her husband had dumped her for another woman, a trophy wife who bought her clothes in The Village and Old Money didn't want to chance an encounter - I really don't know. She just was.

As I entered the fitting room, she swished in behind me, to assist in the fashion of the day, all the while clucking about the dress and how the only reason it was still there was that it took a "suhton puhrson to weyah a gown like this" I remarked that I would call her if I needed her and literally had to push her out the door as she attempted to remove my clothing. Over the next five minutes while I undressed and hung up the clothes I was wearing, she stood at the door as if I might somehow need her to unbutton something and kept up a constant stream of chattah about the dress being for someone special and she was sure I had the right figure for it. She literally begged me to open the "doah" and let her see it when I had it on. I reluctantly agreed and opened the "doah." She flushed and fanned, gushed and gooed and immediately went to fetch her associate, Irene, to come see the dress. After much histrionic collusion on their part, I agreed it did, indeed, look "mahvelous" on me and asked if they thought it would be suitable to wear to my son's wedding.

Old Money looked at Irene in shock. Their faces blanched and their hands trembled. The floor began to shake and finally, Old Money was able to speak. She drew a deep breath, clutched her chest, fell back a step or two and sputtered "Mah Deah, thuh bride weyahs white." I looked at them with a wicked gleam in my eye. I'll take it," I said and slammed the "doah" right in their mortified faces.

The wedding was a lovely event in a little country church with long stemmed peach roses as the only other color. I look good in all the pictures in my candlelight dress even though I did resist the temptation to let the Parisian Room tag show like a modern day Minnie Pearl. I am suhton Old Money and Irene still talk to this day in the nursing home where they surely reside - - - - about the audacious wedding where the Mother of the Groom wore white! Little did they know she didn't even "weyah" white at her own wedding!

So, all you lovely June Brides beware. Don't let your future Mother In Law shop alone. Be sure everyone in the wedding party understands - - - - - "Thuh Bride Weyahs White". And by the way, the petit fores at Savage's Bakery in Homewood are to die for! I could include my own personal recipe but it doesn't compare.