A Night To Remember
December 3, 1994. Manhattan. 60°. The big Christmas tree by Rockefeller Center standing guard.
That was always a favorite spot. My father loved hanging out there when he could. In fact, I think Rockefeller Center in winter or anytime relaxed him, calmed him, brought him some joy.
It was one of my favorite spots too. And I knew that this was where I was meant to be married to the love of my life. There was no place on earth like The Rainbow Room. Yes, this was it.
We were living in Chicago at the time, but Bob and I had gone there several times after I had told him about the revolving dance floor, the floor to ceiling windows bringing you the best of Manhattan glimmering like diamonds, the orchestras, and the serving staff looking like they walked out of a 1920s nightclub.
So on December 3, 1994 Bob and I married in one of the Rainbow Suites. It didn’t disappoint.
So on December 3, 1994 Bob and I married in one of the Rainbow Suites.
I didn’t want a conventional gown since this was my second marriage and I didn’t want to make a fuss. But when this gown saw me, it chose me. It was four sizes too big and the seamstress pretty much took it apart and made it for me. It had these gorgeous patches of raw silk and lovely cap sleeves. Simply stunning. The little white kid gloves with pearl buttons we had found at an antique shop were a perfect match to this gown. The headband petal veil looked wonderful with my hair in a French Twist. The champagne rose bouquet was breathtaking.
A limo picked me and my little entourage, my sister and Bob’s older daughter, up at The Beverly Hotel, and I remember as I got into the limo by The Beverly, and out of the limo by 30 Rock, bystanders took pictures of a woman in a wedding gown in Manhattan. Oh lord, that was me! I never felt like I owned Manhattan as much as at that moment.
Oh lord, that was me! I never felt like I owned Manhattan as much as at that moment.
I walked down the aisle to one of Bob’s favorite arias from La Boheme, and I chose the dance music that our lovely pianist played all night. All the guests were “dressed to the nines,” men in tuxedos and the ladies in gowns. We all danced throughout the night; no waiting for dinner to be over to start those festivities.
Bob’s dad and mine were long gone so as part of our ceremony, an aria was played to honor their memory.
It was not a traditional wedding. I did not throw a bouquet, smush cake into Bob’s mouth, or sit there while someone took a garter off my leg. It was more like a dinner party “Margo Channing” would have thrown in All About Eve. Exactly what I had envisioned.
That was over 26 years ago and the memory is vivid. It was truly a night I’ll always remember.