Storyland Wedding

On Friday evening I was part of something historic, a first in New Orleans history (albeit a small one): a wedding ceremony in Storyland in City Park. The couple, young New Orleanians who are performers of one kind or another (comedian/clown and aerialist/clown, apparently), had their hearts set on getting married in this special place, beloved to generations of New Orleans children.

And not just Storyland -- they had centered their wedding plans on the Peter Pan pirate ship, which was even featured in their wedding invitations. The event coordinator at City Park initially turned down their request, there never having been a wedding in Storyland, but the couple persisted (I believe the bride-to-be actually cried) and City Park relented. The Park did insist that the date of the wedding be moved to a Friday instead of a Saturday, there being much less demand from the general public to be inside Storyland on a Friday afternoon than a weekend.

I found the couple sweet and charming, though a bit outré in appearance. (The bride, a pretty girl with a striking face, sported deep emerald green hair.) Planning the ceremony with them was a trip. When asked for the names of the extensive bridal party -- every close friend of theirs had to be honored by being included and thus there were 18 attendants total -- often they only knew their professional or stage names. Thus, the printed copy of the wedding service contained names such as "Miz Led," "Sticks," and "Stumps." Nearly all are show folk of one kind or another -- burlesque dancers, acrobats, clowns, comedians, musicians, aerialists, mimes, what-have-you. (Even the groom's father is in show business -- the justly-famous band leader and entertainer Vince Vance, of Vince Vance and the Valiants. When I found that out, it was all I could do not to squeal like a schoolgirl.)

The rehearsal on Thursday went well; the young show folk took my directions in good spirits. We figured out the logistics of the pirate ship (there was a brief moment when the City Park event coordinator and I tried to gently suggest that the Storyland fairytale castle was a better venue as far as sight lines and practicality were concerned, but emotions trumped practicality and we were back at the ship in no time). We decided that I as minister would stand on the poop deck, the couple would stand on the step before the mast (where, above our heads in the crow's nest, Captain Hook battled it out with Peter Pan in the climatic sword fight), and the Best Man and Matron of Honor would stand at the prow. One of the bridal party, a young man wearing a giant gorilla paw, reminded me of an old sailor's superstition about "splitting the mast" being bad luck and so we were careful at the rehearsal to always have the couple walk round the same side of the mast. (Trust show business people to know every possible superstition pertaining to a given situation.)

The evening of the wedding, it should not have been a surprise to note that the straight people, guests and family, were vastly outnumbered. The range of hair colors could not have been bested in any paint store in the city; the array of artfully thrown-together, torn-apart, aesthetically-ripped, over-layered outfits let me know that there couldn't have been a petticoat, old prom dress, or used corset left in any of the city's many used clothing stores. There were girls dressed as boys and boys dressed as girls (impossible to think of such playful, willfully childlike creatures as "men" and "women"), and individuals of indeterminate or blended or newly-invented genders. A few young men wore shoes of such size that although they appeared to be regular men's shoes, they could only be clown footwear. One young woman, with a shaved head and a great deal of tattoos (indeed, people without tattoos must have felt under-dressed), wore only strategically placed 1950's vintage scarves around her bosom and hips. Many of the young men who were in a version of straight men's clothes wore vintage suits, with personal touches of some kind (rips, tears, no pants, sequins, lamé trim, etc.). The only place you would have seen more fishnet tights with holes on people of all sexes would have been the MOMs Ball.

Many people, guests and bridal party, wore circus-style face paint -- decorations of dots and diamonds and lines and stars in various colors. A group of six young people were nearly hidden behind giant red heart sandwich boards tied on their shoulders in extravagant red satin bows. Many of the young women, guests and bridal party, wore creative headgear in which peacock feathers were a dominant motif.

The ceremony was a trifle late getting started, but much less so than many "regular" weddings over which I've presided. I suspected that the show folk had a strong ethic of getting the show to start relatively on time. The groom was suitably and charmingly keyed up and nervous. The numerous groomsmen did exactly as we had rehearsed the day before, and I mounted my place on the elevated stern of the pirate ship. From this vantage point, I had an excellent view of the procession -- or rather, the parade -- as the bridesmaids, flowergirls, and bride escorted by her dad followed a raucous klezmer band from Austin, Texas, down the road from the direction of the Botanical Gardens (where many straighter couples hold their ceremonies) toward the gate to Storyland.

The bridesmaids all wore teal, with varying interpretations of what a "bridesmaid's dress" should look like, and all had headdresses of flowers and peacock feathers. The bride wore a formal gown of taupe taffeta, with poufy layers and a dark teal silk bustle in the back. Her shiny emerald hair was arranged in lovely ringlets and curls on top her head and surmounted by an elaborate and elegant orchid and peacock feather headpiece. She was beautifully made up and looked like move star -- although one with lovely green hair. The ceremony went well, without a hitch, and both bride and groom cried and tenderly wiped the tears from each other's faces.

(Interestingly, the couple had no problem whatsoever with my traditional ban on photography during the ceremony, which, frankly, I had been prepared to compromise on, given the setting and the circumstances. But, as show business professionals, they understood how photography could affect a performance, and also got the idea that a photographer trying for the best shots could be distracting. They were happy to spend about 40 minutes after the ceremony was over and the recessional done, to pose lots and lots of photographs, complete with professional lighting and reflectors and so on. The bride said to me that as an aerialist, who often performs on trapezes and silks, that flash photography can actually be dangerous to her during her act, so she understood why I might dislike photography during my "act.")

The reception was held at the Deutches Haus on Galvez, with the bride and groom being delivered in a bicycle-riven rickshaw (thus, they were the last to arrive). I stayed only a little while, and was treated with exquisite courtesy by the show folks, who complimented me on my skills as a "performer," bought me a German black beer, and passed me ahead of them in the food line. I thought it quite a compliment to get kudos from professional show folk. (I was even more thrilled when the great Vince Vance, the groom's father, kissed my lips and my hand, calling me a "goddess" and insisting he owed me one. Wow!)

When I visited the Ladies Room, prior to taking my leave, I found the bride, now dressed in a bridal-looking leotard, doing the splits on the floor, stretching her muscles prior to doing a silks performance in the Haus's courtyard. Others in the bridal party and among the guests had also stripped to leotards, so I guess there was going to be a LOT of performing going on, but, sadly, I had a sore throat and a sermon to finish, and so I made my polite good-byes. As I left, I told the groom I hoped they would think of me in the future when they needed a Baby Dedication (and one can only wonder how that would go!).