I Would Be Remiss

And an unfaithful blogger if I failed to mention that I have succumbed to the shiny pretty wilds of a bridal magazine once or twice. But I always and swiftly regret it.

Exhibit A: Brides Magazine, whose cover girl in a strapless, pleated dress with a green grasses pattern on the bodice and matching groegrain bow is no question, is a glorious thing to behold. The face, is that of a Noxema scrubbed Vestal Virgin, with teeth whiter than her cultured pearl earrings, the pretty pedantic friend from college, the one who stayed in and read Hegel on a Friday night. Maddening, sort of, but fine. She carries a bouquet of Baby's Breath or something similarly ephemeral.

Inside the book are Ideas For Women Who Have Never Had One Before. An Idea, or... anything. Yes, most women's magazines are just as repetetive, obvious, and aim for the lowest common denominator, but within that genre there are at least options. Vogue, Elle, Jane at one point, succeed in injecting fashion photographs and silly sex tips with wit, etiquette, and intellect. In the least offensive of these pretty periodicals the smart readers infers a nod and wink at some level.

Never with these Wedding Tomes (Exhibit A itself weighs more than the cover model) who take themselves and the entire protracted process so seriously, therefore making the reader a ridiculous thing. It is all too straight, too straighforward, too homogenized and bland. You bore me.