We were in Palm Springs
for the wedding of my good friends David (Lips) Lipman and Stephen
(no nickname) Donegan.
I wrote a blog about it
but it just didn't do the thing justice. Largely because the whole
three day wedding was so huge I ended up just straight 'reporting'
it. Sort of like; “This happened and then THIS happened – and
then, I shit you not – THIS HAPPENED.”
So I'm sat here at two
am, having woken up with a body clock telling me it's around midday,
thinking I should give this another punt.
I'm chewing Gaviscon
because the one thing you always take home from America is
indigestion, smoking my duty free fags and wearing slippers. I feel
like Cinderella after the ball except no one has shown up with a
glass slipper and returned me to the life I have so falsely become
accustomed to.
In fact my Prince is
happily snoring in the next room and will probably wake up at a
completely reasonable hour wanting bacon.
When I told him we were
going to California for an event that would make the Royal wedding
look a bit shabby he ran around the house shouting “We're going to
Palm Springs Baby!' and continued to do so regularly for the next six
weeks. When we arrived he just dropped the “We're going to” part
and shouted at anyone who'd make eye contact with him “PALM SPRINGS
BABY!”
One of the many things
I love about him is that he still genuinely feels excitement.
Childlike glee. He lives in the moment whereas I always remain
slightly outside of it, narrating in my head.
The flip side of this
is that I can sit on an uncomfortable ten hour flight and think 'This
is fine, it'll be over soon and I must remember to get some milk on
the way home.' Whereas he will spend most of that time convinced that
the man sat adjacent to us is sniffing every thirty seconds to
deliberately ruin his life.
On the way out, about
half way through our flight, he had to grab a stewardess to stop her
accidentally killing a toddler. She was shoving her trolley down the
aisle at speed and couldn't see the kid that had escaped from its
mother running full pelt towards the metal death trap. He was
rewarded with the woman screaming at the top of her lungs. He tried
to explain what had happened but she just put her hands up and
shouted 'Enough!' which was weird in itself, as though men regularly
grabbed her and shouted 'Attencion!'
She stormed off and he
was rightly furious and wanted to complain or at least explain what
had happened. I insisted that he say nothing and we'd deal with it
once we were off the plane. I could see our holiday starting with an
arrest on arrival, so hysterical was the woman's reaction.
Fortunately she returned ten minutes later and thanked him for, as
she put it, 'helping her not accidentally hurt a child in the line of
duty'. Okaaaaaay.
Our first priority when
we arrived in Palm Springs was to find a bar where we could drink and
smoke simultaneously. Finding places to smoke became a bit of a
comedy theme during the week and by the end of the wedding
celebrations there was a hardcore group of ten of us whispering about
bushes we'd found and blind alleys. There's something hilarious and
very British about being stood at an opulent cocktail party at the
Ritz Carlton Mirage overlooking the desert mountains (that have the
grooms initials projected on to them!) and having someone from London
sidle up to you and mutter “I hear you're the people to talk to if
you want to have a sneaky fag.”
Rom would give a subtle
nod towards some dark corner. 'Give it a minute and follow me to the
cactus on the left. Be cool man. BE COOL.'
If you ask me what
Leonardo DiCaprio's house (where they had the ceremony) was like I
could confidently tell you that there's a spot just in front of the
tennis court and behind the pool house where you could smoke, in the
cool shade, without being seen. In fairness we did create a water
based ashtray with the help of Vigo (one of the other French chain
smokers) for fear of burning the place down, and we cleared up all of
our cigarette butts. We're not animals. Although I do like the image
of DiCaprio pacing around on his property, learning lines, and
spotting a Marlboro crushed out on the ground. It's not just a no
smoking house you see. No, no, no, It's a no smoking NEIGHBOURHOOD.
When, on arrival, we (me and Alex – a gorgeous tiny Croatian woman)
tried to have a smoke out the front we were swooped on by security.
'Sorry ma'am this is no
smoking environment. It's a fire risk you see.'
A fire risk? We're in
the fucking desert! Wearing reflective glass out here is fire risk!
Anyway. Finding places
you can smoke and drink simultaneously. Rom and I were directed to a
bar in downtown Palm Springs called The Village Pub. Think of all the
images 'Village Pub' conjures in your mind and then abandon them
utterly. This place was a dive. A dirty, loud, rock music and low cut
everything dive. And we LOVED it. It became our daily spot between
extremely glamorous events and by the end of the week we were on fist
bumping terms with the staff. It's also where I tried my first
Michelada. A Bloody Mary with a bottle of beer poured in it and a
spicy rim. Christine introduced me to it. I'll get back to Christine.
Gods I love her.
Our hotel is just
opposite the grooms hotel and the following morning we wander over to
say hello, meet at least a dozen new people and have some drinks. The
almost entirely perfect looking man at reception guides as to the
lifts and tells us to have the best day. We stare at him slack jawed.
He's so...perfect. He's gym fit, beautiful, immaculately dressed and
looks like the happiest person on earth. I continue to stare until I
find a tiny shaving nick on his neck assuring me he is human and we
move on.
David and Stephen are
staying in the suite on the 6th floor and it is very
fancy.
The glass walls show a
panoramic view of the desert mountains. There's a white pool table, a
vintage record player, all the furniture looks like art. The grooms
themselves look happy and bewildered, exactly as you'd expect when
all your family and friends descend on you at once.
I'm so happy to see
them I keep kissing them. Rom loves them straight away, it's hard not
to, and there's a lot of hugging and wows. Stephen whispers to me:
'I love Rom. You always
know in five seconds if a person has a good heart, I just loved him
right off.'
Which is how I feel
about Stephen and David. Without becoming overly sentimental and
mawkish about it, those boys have a good life, the best of
everything, but what makes being around them so special is that its
never about that. They share their lives with you wholeheartedly,
they want you to enjoy every minute of your time and they go out of
their way to make sure of it.
At least three people
ask me upon introduction if I saw the billboard. I have no idea what
they're talking about and David tells me they had one put up on the
highway welcoming us to their wedding. Unfortunately by the time our
driver made it through the commuter traffic it was dark and we missed
it. But there were a lot more surprises to come over the following
days. Big ones.
I ask where Christine
is. I met her on my last visit and found her to be hilarious and a
full six foot of fun. Largely booze related. She has possibly the
coolest job as a mixologist who gets to travel the world showing
people how to make a good drink.
'She's just doing a
wine run,' David tells me. I assume she'll return with a couple of
bottles of something to top up the bar but of course she returns with
two porters and several trolleys full of beer, spirits, wine and ice.
She asks them to bring up two fridges because ice is a ball ache and
everything appears like magic. She turns to one of the porters:
'What's your name?'
'Igor.'
'Igor, you're killing
it.'
She towers over
everyone with her short bleached hair, purple lipstick and a laugh
that sounds like gravel.
I go over and hug her
delighted I'll be spending some time with her over the next few days.
Rom is wandering around
the suite making a video to torture our friend Ollie in the UK with.
He makes one a day and sends them to him.
“Hey buddy, just
thought I'd share with you where we are right now...'
Ollie responds
gracefully and never once tells him to just fuck off.
We meet a lot of the
grooms family on both sides. Easy to tell apart because they all look
alike. Stephen's family all have cheekbones you could cut your wrists
on and David's all have his lips and eyes. There's some fantastic
Boston accents and a few Australian. Apart from the core smokers whom
we obviously spend large portions of our time with we also spend a
good amount of time chatting to Kellie and Joe from Stephen's side.
Joe and Rom talk about food and Kellie and I talk about creativity in
schools and before long we have a solid invite to visit them in
Boston.
We've also been invited
to Goa to visit Vigo. She's French and lives out there working as a
location scout. She's at the wedding with her friend Alex the
glamorous and tiny Croatian woman. They are in the next hotel room to
us and we become firm balcony friends.
I was telling Vigo,
who's a young widow, that Rom is a nightmare in restaurants. He
judges everything, questions everything, will tell the staff exactly
what he thinks at the slightest provocation. She laughs and says Matt
was the same.
'We'll be sat somewhere
and he'll be rearranging the cutlery on the table, complaining about
something. I'd just say “Oh shut up!”' She takes a drag on her
cigarette. 'Of course, I miss it now.'
My heart contracts and
I swear to myself I'll never complain about his nature again. Until
we're in the next restaurant and he wants to know how they justify
eight dollars for a beer.
On Friday Christine and
I spend a few hours by the pool coming up with names for the
cocktails she's made especially for the wedding.
I suggest she calls the
non alcoholic one 'The Intervention.'
'Yah, that's one
hundred percent hilarious and a hard no. Stephen would literally kill
me.'
We come up with 'Stand
By Your Tini' for her take on an Espresso Martini and 'The Doneman'
(The grooms names blended) for the champagne cocktail.
Stephen texts back
immediately:
'No. No to all of
that.'
We sigh and come up
with something a little more classy and are rewarded with a “Maybe.”
My plan before the
welcome reception at the Ritz that evening is a siesta and a pre
drink. She's having her nails done and getting the grooms initials
tattooed on her hand.
'It feels right,' she
drawls.
Everyone around the
pool is wearing factor 70 because the sun is about two inches away.
She's wearing a bikini, no protection at all and drinking hot coffee.
There's no bar at our
hotel which we agree is probably a good thing or we'd be nipple deep
in Pina Coladas by now. We grab a cold beer from the shop instead and
laze about discussing the toasts we have yet to write for the post
ceremony dinner tomorrow night and then she heads off. To get a
fucking TATTOO.
When we arrive at The
Ritz I'm as much distracted by the grandness of it all as I am by the
facelifts. Not amongst the guests but just at the entrance. Some
people staying there who are waiting for drivers. One elderly lady
looks like a bulldog clip at the back of her head is holding her face
on.
The drinks reception
has been set up by an infinity pool overlooking the mountains. There
are candles everywhere and beautiful little trays of food on various
tables.
We mingle and chat and
admire everything before settling in one of the open candle lit tents
to eat soba noodles from take out cartons, and tiny sliders and
pistachio crème brulee. Christine rocks up with four precariously
balanced plates.
'It all looks so
goooood,' she says.
Rom tells her the
charcuterie is great.
'Wow I didn't see
that.' She wanders off and returns with two more plates.
David and Stephen spend
the evening trying to speak to everyone and I don't see them eat a
bite. They've organised this incredible wedding and they are the most
hard working people at it. They look happy though and we're all
excited by the prospect of the wedding the following day.
By ten pm we're dead on
our feet and head back to the hotel. But not until I've gone to the
loo and discovered a tray of complimentary creams, combs, lip balm,
all emblazoned with The Ritz logo. I take one of everything. I'm
classy that way.
The wedding doesn't
start until six pm but we are up at seven too excited to sleep.
We eat a huge breakfast
at The Broken Yolk, down a couple of zantac and spend the day
swimming and preparing.
Christine and I head to
Mac to buy glittery eye shadow for me and yet another lipstick for
her. I thought my twelve Mac lipsticks were impressive. This girl
owns over sixty five. The sweet sales girl makes several suggestions
and Christine gets excited about a gold lipstick.
'Yah,' the girl says.
'That one is sooo cute.'
'Uhuh,' Christine
murmurs. 'I do not love that as much as I thought I would. Huh.'
The girls smile never
slides off and in the end Christine finds something red and classy
and something blue, holographic and very her.
The afternoon is spent
doing hair, make up and climbing in to very fancy outfits. I see Rom
in a suit for the first time and nearly propose to him. I'm pretty
sure I see him wink at himself in the mirror at one point.
We drag Christine from
her room with its expansive floordrobe (she is walking chaos). She
looks like a felony. I get her to remove one of the gold chokers so
we can see her neck and she's perfection. We head over to The Rowan
for drinks before getting an Uber to the Leonardo DiCaprio estate.
The wedding theme is
Black and White and everyone has gone to town. We all look and feel
amazing and as we're handed champagne on arrival there is a palpable
air of excitement and anticipation.
Rom makes his video of
the day for Ollie:
'So, here we are at
Leonardo's place...'
Ollie texts back 'Let's
buy it.'
Everything is
beautiful. I could go in to detail but just imagine the most fancy
and beautiful wedding you've ever been to and then multiply that by a
hundred.
I asked Christine
earlier in the day if she was a cryer at weddings. She gave me a firm
no on that. The moment she sees Stephen and David walk hand in hand
across the lawn she starts bawling.
The ceremony takes
place as the sun sets and it's lovely and very moving. I see Stephen
rubbing his thumbs along his fingers and remember him mentioning it
the night before:
'Apparently it puts you
in the moment. I don't want to miss anything.'
Lovely words are
spoken, music plays, candles are lit for absent loved ones, but for
me its one tiny moment when Stephen lifts his hand and touches the
side of David's face. I squeeze Rom's hand and tell Christine to stop
fucking weeping.
We have another drink
and everyone tries to hug the grooms. Rom points out that there's
nowhere set up for the meal. We wonder if its hidden somewhere around
a corner until we're suddenly ushered out and handed an envelope with
our names on it. Inside is a table number and a penny.
We're guided on to
buses and taken for a short five minute drive to the Palm Springs
Museum.
This is a huge surprise
for everyone and as we make our way up the candle lit steps to the
entrance we're invited to throw our pennies in the fountain and make
a wish.
Inside the place is
mind blowing. There's huge garlands of white flowers under
spotlights, giant silver candle holders on the tables and beautiful
crystal glasses glinting in the light. A ten piece band is playing by
the dance floor and champagne cocktails appear from every direction.
A film starts up on one of the walls with David and Stephen in voice
over. Footage of them in the dessert looking handsome and elegant.
They talk about their love for each other and at the end we see them
walking down some stairs. We turn to find them walking down some
stairs next to the band and everyone applauds. They say a few words
and finish with 'Let's Eat!'
After a fabulous meal
the speeches start and Christine and I pound champagne in
anticipation of going up to the mike.
By the time it's my
turn, I'm last (thanks boys!) I'm not nervous at all and I have the
best time telling stories about them and watching the crowd laugh. We
all get huge rounds of applause and when it's done we decide we can
now get drunk in earnest. Christine and I do tequila shots at the bar
with some of the other girls followed by Stand By Your Tinis and lots
of wine. People keep coming up to me and saying nice things about my
speech and before long I'm jumping up and down on the spot on the
dance floor. I vaguely remember tiny Alex shimmying over to me and
saying:
'You belong to me now.
I am going to stalk you. I lovvvvvvvve youuuuuuu.'
It was just that kind
of night.
We eat some late night
lobster mac n cheese and enjoy ALL the wedding desserts and stagger
out around one with gift bags (A book of the museum and a donut, the
significance of which made me well up) and fell in to our beds.
The following morning
was a lot less pretty.
I find Vigo on the
balcony smoking and looking grey.
'We don't remember
getting back last night. I remember nothing. Did I make a fool of
myself?'
'No idea,' we all
agree.
Alex hugs and kisses
me. 'You belong to me now,' she whispers.
It's Sunday and the
wedding isn't over yet. Today is an all day pool party back at The
DiCaprio place with unending cocktails and tacos. The perfect
hangover cure.
I put on a shit tonne
of glitter and red lipstick and once again drag Christine from her
dungeon. Rom is feeling very perky having stuck to beer the night
before.
We arrive to another
scene of gorgeous indulgence. After a Bloody Mary and some large
mimosas my hangover vanishes and the day passes in a haze of
laughter, food, stories and swimming. With several trips to the smoke
hideout. Nothing catches fire, all butts are removed and we do not
destroy Stephen and David's lives by burning the estate to the
ground.
I spend a good hour in
the jacuzzi talking to Tracy from London, who makes animated films
and is full of great stories. Rom wrestles with an inflatable swan
and works his way through a bucket of corona.
And then its over and
we head back to our hotels replete and determined to leave the grooms
alone for five minutes so they can have some time together. They look
happy and exhausted. Well, David does. Stephen says he's still golden
and will probably collapse the minute its all over and everyone has
gone home.
I say bye to Christine
after breakfast the next day and wish I had more time with her but I
know I'll see that one again. She's like a bad penny. Lots of
goodbyes are said to new friends and promises are made to meet up
wherever, whenever we can. I think David and Stephen would love to
know that. They brought a lot of people together.
The last three days of
our holiday are spent eating pizza, watching films in bed and
strolling to our local dive for drinks and cigarettes.
We meet David and
Stephen for one last drink at their hotel and thank them for
everything. They have been incredible. I love them so much. So does
Rom.
On the drive back to
LAX we pass the billboard. Two grooms and a heart welcoming friends
and family to their wedding in Palm Springs. A class act.
