How to Fake It at a Fancy Wedding
Disclaimer: I am not fancy. If fancy is Jackie O and Gucci loafers and knowing Champagne brands, I am Fran Fine in Topshop heels drinking vodka cranberry. Add the nasal Australian accent into a sea of Stephen Fry plummy charm, and there’s hardly a need for a disclaimer.
I’m not fancy, but I’ve learnt how to fake it.
It was August Bank Holiday weekend. A weekend with a reputation for being the last days of summer and the most costly of all the weekends in the year. In previous years I’d spent it sweatily, and with lipstick on my teeth, at bottomless brunches and happy hours throughout London. But this year I was set to be sweaty with lipstick on my teeth in on of the world’s most beautiful regions; Tuscany in Italy. Hello anxiety, it’s me, Lauren!
Play it cool and try not to vomit
It started at the British Airlines lounge. Everyone met to make the most of the free booze while I did my version of that with a giant bowl of comforting cornflakes. I pulled out my phone and casually mentioned I might take a photo of the lounge only to be met with some fancy-people frowns before my Netflix and Chill partner sweetly told me that, that would be ‘a bit chavvy.’ I pondered for a minute about how that would make a great title for my memoirs before going back to eating my cornflakes and mixed emotions.
We flew club because that’s apparently the one and only way to get to a fancy wedding in Tuscany. And we were picked up by a driver in a van in Pisa because not only are we fancy, but we’re also drunk a lot, plus I, in true to form, was too scared to drive in Italy. Ever since a horrific return flight from India in which I vomited explosively over the walls in the planes’ bathroom, I’m also now a person who gets motion sickness (and can no longer be in the same room as black current Lemsip), so I also had to sit in the front seat of the mini-bus for the two hour drive. It’s cool though; instead of turning around and trying to join the conversation I listened to the Bitch Sesh podcast and laughed to myself as our driver got lost somewhere near Sienna.
Hang out at the pool with reading material you want to be judged by
Tuscany is in central Italy. As in, inland. As in, no beaches or sea breezes. So, as an Australian, it feels like a strange place to spend summer. Never the less it’s very beautiful and if you stay at a sprawling historic villa with vineyard valley views and a pool, it does start to make sense. As an Australian I can testify it also gets freakin hot there, fo’real. So the pool is the best place to be if your not sleeping, eating or getting married. It’s also where everyone else is, so I recommend bringing a book or schmancy magazine, like Vanity Fair, so you can avoid talking to people while also fooling them into thinking you’re not actually a garbage person who listens to podcasts about reality shows.
Dress everyone under the red & white table cloth
If you can’t charm people into thinking your a regular fancy human, you can at least dazzle them with your ability to recreate a Dolce & Gabbana Italian realness look on an Asos budget. Keep to breathable fabrics, don’t even bother brushing your hair (hello braids all weekend!), don’t let anything but espadrilles touch your feet and rock the heaviest earrings you can find – holla at my hometown designer Christie Nicolaides for making the biggest, baddest Italian earrings in the game. Also, the Tuscan town of Sienna has THE best jewellery store I’ve ever visited in my life. Named Sena Vetus, it’s run by the most fabulously dressed older lady and is filled to the brim with vintage costume jewels, from pink 1960s vintage Chanel earrings (bought’em) to cameo rings and brooches, to all of the glass beads.
Also hot tip: carry a Japanese fan with you, wherever you go and you’ll be cool both physically and in reputation. *tongue pop*
Drink the wine even if your pre-teen taste buds hate it
Given the choice between a sour white wine and a stupidly coconut-y Malibu, I’m guzzling that teen-girl favourite by the bucket full while listening to Drake on repeat. But when you’re in Tuscany, you’ve just got to man up and drink wine. That’s the law! Plus, between the beautiful location, the alfresco dinner by sunset, the chic table setting, the live mariachi band… I guess I got caught up in all of the fancy adult-ness of the wedding which resulted in a very natural sip of red wine, followed by another, and shortly after that, I became a woman.
Until a few hours later when the DJ started playing Backstreet Boys and there was an open bar and before you knew it, I was a lady-child again. And all of that good hard work I did of trying to fool everyone went out the window… and I vomitted after all. THE END!
All this Tuscany talk got you thinking of Italy? You should go! Start by eating all of the ice cream in Rome.