Flappers and Philosophers


It’s been almost 10 days since I last blogged. Probably about time I came up for air.

I’ve been in the thick of it, you see. I don’t know if I mentioned it or not, but a large part of the reason I wanted to be home in New York this summer was to help plan my dear friend Erma’s wedding. After nearly a year of breathless anticipation, the feverishly awaited wedding weekend has taken place.

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The bride-to-be and a bachelorette party guest dance underneath the Washington Square Park arch. This is the only picture I am able to share of an insanely wild night out that was off. the. freaking. CHAIN!

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I don’t think I have to explain at this point why this picture of the Wedding Cake dsplay was so utterly and amazingly fabulous to me. The cupcakes were baked by one of the other bridesmaids and I’d been dying to sink my teeth into them ever since Erma told me the cupcakes were, in fact, a done deal. Guinness Chocolate and Lemon flavors – to honor, respectively, the groom’s Irish heritage and the warm weather of the summer season.

The wedding was an Art Deco-themed affair. The bride wore an ivory silk mermaid gown with a plunging V-neck that looked as though it could have been worn at the 1933 Oscars; complete with a birdcage netting-paste jewel brooch-and-white plume veil. The bridesmaids wore short, fringed dresses in turquoise or navy blue. The groom and groomsmen wore light gray suits with black ties. The officiant was an Earth Angel in summery all-white.

There was a jazz band. There was sangria. The passed hors d’oeuvres included tofu spring rolls, ceviche cups and soup dumplings. How many soup dumplings can a person eat in 2 hours? I’ll tell you. Or maybe not.

The couple’s first dance was to Sleepwalker by Santo & Johnny – performed by the musically-inclined members of the bridal party.

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Guest book, peacock feathers in the urn and a vintage hat box to collect gift envelopes.

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And the band played on.

It was an absolutely perfect day. I still dream of the soup dumplings and the jazz-infused cocktail hour. I long for another occasion to don my Art Deco bridesmaid gear. The grand feat that was my approximation of an Irene Castle bob must not be forgotten, my friends.

There’s always a bit of a let down after such an intense bout of planning. I was in Japan for 7 months of Erma and Bill’s engagement, growing more frantic by the day so eager was I to dig my hands into the wedding activities. As soon as I landed in New York, the summer became a whirlwind of trips to the craft store, discussions about catered menus, trial runs of bridal beauty, and secret plotting amongst the bridesmaids for the bachelorette party/bridal shower.

The wedding was August 9th. Now that the wedding is over, it means that summer is almost over as well. Sean is here – say hello, Sean! He arrived in New York a week ago to be my official date for the wedding. How do you like that? Look what else I picked up apart from Japanese and PTSD eikaiwa flashbacks when I moved to Japan. Sean bought a black gangster hat especially for the occasion and since the wedding, when we stuffed our faces with ceviche, soup dumplings, and cupcakes, has joined me in sighs of: “いいだった、ね~”

Together again after 3 months, we have rainy afternoons at the Met, walks along the South Street Seaport, and, in public, complain to each other in Japanese. Today – August 13th – we will head to Little Tokyo on St. Mark’s and, later, to my beloved Marie’s Crisis. It will be a Village-rific day … or at least it will be when he gets out of bed.

There are exactly 3 weeks until I move to Ireland and once again leave the incubus of my loved ones. It feels harder this time around.

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