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love, W.

Friday, December 27

O.H. M.Y. G.O.D.

What have I done?

What have WE done?

Before we left the palace, we made sure we told as many people as possible that we were off to Monaco to greet some of our cousins. Then we took the car (René somehow managed to sober up in less than five hours. Respect. Or maybe I was just too tired to care about his intoxication. Oh my god, what was I thinking? No wonder it all ended the way it did if it already started so horribly!) and indeed drove to Monaco where we boarded the train.

Although I was planning on sleeping, I didn't sleep on bit. When the lady with a trolley came, René decided to buy every kind of candy she was selling. Let me just say Europe has some delicious sweets, not to mention chocolate.

Sebastiano, who as a fashion designer was chosen to dress groom & groom was all mysterious about what he has prepared and to be honest, his bag looked way too small to be containing two wedding outfits. But all René and I got out of his was that he had everything planned out.

And indeed he had. When we reached Spain, Harry was already waiting for us at the train station. When he and Sebastiano winked at each other, well, that was when things started to fall apart. It turned out Harry knew everything about Sebastiano's plan – Sebastiano kind of didn't have a choice since Harry is the only one from our group that has, well, money. My spendings are still heavily controlled by Dad who surely wouldn't be pleased to see I had a major spending spree somewhere in Spain. René is, well, broke. Sebastiano's lines haven't been very successful yet, mainly because he still has to finish at least one. His creations are financed by Genovian royal family so … yeah, Harry truly was the only one who could finance the great wedding Sebastiano had planned.

So we took a cab and imagine my surprise when it stopped in front of the wedding saloon. Where they sell bridal gowns

BRIDAL GOWNS.

For women that get married.

"Um …" I said, "why are we here?"

Harry looked at me as if I was crazy.

"To buy a wedding gown, what did you think?"

"Yeah … but … last time I checked there were two grooms?"

"There still are. We are not buying it for them," Harry said patiently, "it is for you, Genovia."

Ok. Did he just say what I think he did?

For me? A bridal gown? Do I indeed have amnesia and this is somehow my wedding day and I forgot?

Well, of course it was too good to be true. I mean, there's no way I am ever getting a wedding that does not include Grandmere, has plenty of vegetarian plates and a complete absence of TV cameras.

"Um … why? It is not like I am getting married?"

"They ask me to plan something spec for them," Sebastiano explained, "since their wed is not the most traditional, they wanted some to ephasi this fact. And I thought – why don't we switch clothes? The wed couple in norm clothing and the best men – that's bridesmaid for you, Amelie – in tradition wed clothes. Geni, don't you think?"

His eyes sparkled as he spoke. And I admit, his idea did sound good – minus the whole ME IN A WEDDING DRESS aspect.

"Um … yeah, but it is a wedding gown, Sebastiano."

"I know! That is the great part of everything!"

"Why are we buying one? Why didn't you make one?"

"I had too lit time. Besides, it would look suspi, don't you think, me making a wed dress?"

He could say that it was for his new line but I didn't say anything.

He took my hand.

"I prom, when you get married, I will make you the great wed dress that ever was! Now, let's go shop!"

And since Sebastiano is a great designer and always makes beautiful clothes for me, I actually believed his words. That he will make a wedding dress of my dreams, I mean.

Shopping for a wedding gown was actually fun (well, after the shop assistant got over the fact I was a rather young woman buying a wedding dress with three guys). I don't know how Lilly hasn't gotten an idea yet to film an episode of her show regarding wedding dresses. It is so difficult to buy one, even if it isn't for you actual wedding! There were so many and somehow none was just right. Some were too long, others were too tight, some were too open, others were too conservative even for my liking, some were just plain whore-ishly looking, some had veils that were just off and some were just breath-takingly beautiful.

"You know, the girl I was dating last month, that exchange student from Vietnam?" René said somewhere in the middle of me trying on pretty much everything (I think I was shop assistant's worst nightmare – a 'bride' that had no idea what she wanted, therefore had to see and try on everything), "she said traditional wedding dresses there are red."

"No! Not in my plan!" Sebastiano shivered at the thought of a red wedding dress.

"You do realize why dresses are white, right? It is a tradition…" started René but was interrupted by Harry.

"They were made famous by Queen Victoria…"

"This is not about your textbook knowledge, Harry. Dress is white for a reason – it symbolizes woman's purity and innocence, which, in 21st century where the majority of women loses their virginity before 16, is a complete nonsense. Basically, it is not surprising that so many marriages end in divorce if even a wedding is some crazy illusion and one of its biggest parts is, well, a lie."

Seriously. He and Lilly would get along perfectly. They are both masters in wrecking my dreams. Which girl doesn't dream about a white wedding?

And who even cares why the dress is white? IT JUST IS!

"René, I don't think women are choosing white because they want to create an illusion that they are virgins. They pick it just because … well, it is a tradition," I argued.

"And tradition says white dress represents purity. You can't just take one part of the tradition and dismiss the other one."

"By your logic, it is best to just say screw you, tradition and do things your own way, in a completely unconventional way?" I asked.

"Seriously, BC, it wouldn't hurt if you thought so too," he said.

"Why? Just because a dress is a representation of a lie I should just ditch every other aspect of a white wedding?"

"I am not talking about the wedding, I am saying…"

"Leave it, René. He isn't saying anything, Genovia," smiled Harry.

"No, he was saying something. What were you saying, René?"

"He wasn't saying anything," Harry insisted and turned to the shop assistant, "seriously, I am going to spend some money in here, can't you get her something that will actually look good on her?!"

"Wed dress has to be white and big," said Sebastiano.

"Well, René is right about one part – no matter how beautiful the dress is or how expensive, it does not promise a good marriage," said Harry.

"Which is why I don't understand this whole crap about oh, I have to find the perfect dress! If women spent half the time they dream about the dress on finding Mr Charming, there wouldn't be so many divorces. I don't really believe in weddings but if you insist on having one, just sign the damn paper wearing normal clothes and have a person you truly love by your side."

"Can we please foc on my plan?" begged Sebastiano.

"Absolutely," René rolled his eyes. "All this wedding crap makes me wanna smoke."

"No!" I screamed. "René, you promised you wouldn't smoke this Christmas!"

"BC, Christmas was over yesterday."

"You said you wouldn't smoke this holiday! And stop calling me BC, it is annoying!"

"Relax, BC, one smoke won't kill me!"

"It will because then you will want another one and another one! Smoking is bad for your health!"

"Well, we all die of something, right?" he shrugged and to my horror got up and walked out of the salon and lit a cigarette.

What was I saying yesterday? That I am super mature because I didn't scream when Tante Jean Marie gave me a real fur for Christmas?

Well, I do not think mature women run out of a wedding salon wearing a WEDDING GOWN because their cousin lit a cigarette. And most definitely they do not take it out of their mouth and throw it on the sidewalk.

"Hey!" René screamed.

"No! I won't let you smoke, do you know each cigarette takes 10 seconds off your life?"

"Don't believe everything that sounds scientific. Science is like statistics – both sound super serious and true and people think they don't lie. Well, people who present them lie. Relax, BC!"

And he grabbed the pack of cigarettes to light another. And once again I took it from his hands, then walked to the nearest trash bin and threw it in.

Harry was observing everything with an amused look on his face.

"Well, I guess we found your perfect wedding dress, Genovia. We'll take it!"

We didn't have any choice, really. While saving René's lungs I totally forgot what I was wearing. So all the dirt off the sidewalk ended up on the bottom of the wedding dress. The shop assistant was so pale it looked like she was about to faint.

Well, the color came back to her face when Harry left a considerable tip.

I should just stop saying I am mature. It is more than obvious that I will never ever be a mature woman.

I blame my neuroticism.

And yes, things got even worse.

Andrew and his fiancé decided to get married in a small church in the outskirts of the city. They reserved it for the whole day so both the ceremony and the reception were to happen there.

As we walked in, we realized that the front rows were removed and replaced by the gigantic white piano. The way to the altar was decorated with vases containing beautiful white lilies. In the corner stood a large table with many plates, bottles and glasses.

Everything looked super traditional.

Well, at least till the ceremony started.

Harry's job was to take photos. He was running around, I don't think fully knowing how the camera worked. René sat behind the piano and I was kind of surprised since I didn't know he knew how to play the piano. Well, I was right; his wedding march sounded more like an intro into some horror movie.

So Sebastiano and I were best men. Or maybe I was a bridesmaid, I am not entirely sure. Either way, it looked like we were getting married, at least to somebody who would judge by our clothes. I almost didn't recognize Sebastiano when he appeared, so classically dressed; usually he has on crazy designs, unconventional shapes, patterns, materials and colors. He looked really nice, I have to admit.

Groom and Groom … their clothes were … colorful, it looked like they were wearing a rainbow. And it totally suited them, they both looked so HAPPY! I thought back to the summer, when I met Andrew. He looked so vacant, unhappy and tamed in some way. Well, I guess he was like a caged bird, trapped by his family's name, reputation and struggling to live up to the expectations. He felt like a failure – both to his family because he couldn't be what they wanted him to be, and maybe even more importantly, to himself. I mean, he was consciously suppressing who he really was, living an act.

But now he was free. He was being himself, totally carefree, no longer tied down because of his family. I knew they didn't take the news too well but he didn't really care. 'In the end people who accept you for who you are matter, not the ones who think there is something wrong with you because you don't fit their vision of perfect' he always says.

And I do think he is right.

They were married by a guy who looked like Elvis. They said the traditional vows and as Elvis pronounced them 'husband and husband' we all started clapping.

René even jumped on the piano, pulling a bottle of champagne out of nowhere and started spraying us all with champagne. He poured the remaining liquor down his throat and then opened another bottle.

The music started playing and we were all dancing to Katy Perry (You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream; The way you turn me on, I can't sleep; Let's run away and don't ever look back). We ate fish&chips and ... I don't know. Do you know that feeling when you are dancing and screaming and having a good time, feeling completely free (oh, yeah, running away gives you such feeling of freedom and power, it is rather intoxicating, really!) and you should be HAPPY but somehow that perfect happiness is just of out of reach because someone is not there?

Yeah, I wish I didn't know the feeling either.

Maybe I was just missing Michael, I don't know. And I know I should not build my life around a relationship and I shouldn't let it define me. I need to be happy even without him. And I am. I mean, I was happy, just … seeing the happy couple reminded me that Michael and I could be like them. You know, together.

If it wasn't for my stupid royal status.

Because let's face it, if I wasn't a princess, things would be so much easier. For example, I could have a wedding just like this one. Simple, spontaneous. But what I will get will be the social event of the year, maybe decade, I won't know half the people invited, I'll be eating food I won't like and I most definitely won't pick the cake, the music the vows yet alone the dress (I know Sebastiano said he will make me the greatest dress but as long as Grandmere is alive, I am not getting my hopes up). Oh, and not to mention, there will be CAMERAS there. Cameras that will broadcast my wedding to the entire world. And, you know what that fortune teller lady told me. She didn't say Michael would be the one waiting on me at the altar. No; she said it would be a farmer.

So, yeah, I didn't really hesitate when René handed me another glass of champagne.

And I am not blaming the champagne for what I ended up doing. I am just saying other factors might have contributed to my decision.

Anyway, the music was getting louder and the number of empty bottles was increasing. René climbed on the piano to dance and it was actually really funny until … well, let's just say René broke the piano.

And then it was time to go, if we wanted to return to Genovia at some reasonable hour.

Just before René, Sebastiano and I left, Harry leant closer to me.

"Mia, please tell me you learnt something from this wedding?" he whispered.

But before I could ask him what he meant by that, René pushed another bottle of champagne into my hands and started dragging me towards the exit. So I just blew kisses to groom and groom. We almost missed the train. We caught it just in time, thanks to my special ability to run in high heels, in a wedding dress, holding bottles of champagne, because, according to René, alcohol is not cheap so take as much of it as you can when it is free.

And yes, it got worse. See, on our way back to Monaco there were some problems on the railway so the train stopped at one station in France and it didn't move for the whole eternity.

We got tired of sitting on the train (it is amazing, the level of high energy a few glasses of champagne give you!) so we went off and decided to walk around the city. And since moving was rather difficult in a long dress, I just tear away the bottom part.

Not only a Gucci destroyer, from now on I am also ruining wedding gowns.

And as we were in the city, we passed the hairdresser's and … I totally blame the alcohol, it wasn't me, it was the champagne! Because it couldn't have been ME who decided it was time for a makeover!

Or maybe it was a herd instinct since … well, we all had an extreme makeover.

Maybe mine wasn't as extreme as theirs. I mean, yeah, I wasn't completely sober but René and Sebastiano were far from being anywhere near sober.

Sebastiano shaved half of his hair off and the hair he has left is now in some kind of a Mohawk. Rene dyed his hair blue. Yes, as blue BLUE. And as of me … maybe I have been listening to too much Paramore lately because now my hair is in color of a carrot.

Yes, I have orange hair.

And of course our makeover took so much time that we missed the train. We had to wait two hours till the next one (I have such great luck with trains, don't I? remember how many trains I missed while I was in Japan?). When we finally reached Monaco, René was of course too drunk to drive back to the palace so we walked. And since I am no Carrie Bradshaw, of course I couldn't walk that far in my wedding shoes, so I just took them off and walked the entire way barefoot.

We didn't get to the palace till like five in the morning because … let's say we might have gotten lost a few times. And certainly it took us a while looking for an entrance to the palace that was unlocked. In the end we just woke Pierre up by throwing rocks into his bedroom window. I am surprised it didn't break.

I stashed the wedding dress into my suitcase but I really have no idea how I will manage to hide it from my maids and, more importantly GRANDMERE. I guess as soon as I reached my bed, alcohol effect wore off because all I remember is lying down. Next memory I have is waking up at 11, way past breakfast time.

And of course, the shock I got when I looked myself in the mirror and saw I wasn't just dreaming of having orange hair.

How I'll explain this to Dad and Grandmere, I have no idea. But I guess I better go face my fate because … I already overslept breakfast. No way I'll survive missing the lunch as well.

I am so tired.

To Be Continued.

Broughttoyouby:::winter.