The Slaughter Wedding Showdown

I know this is very late onto the blog, but Uncle Cator has been a busy boy.
Over Memorial Day Weekend one of my nearest and dearest girls got hitched in sumptuous style way down in West Virginia.
Sharon Slaughter and I have been giggle partners for 10 years and I always knew her wedding would be THE wedding.
Why, you may ask?
How about because she was the Art Director at Martha Stewart Weddings for many years. Hot-cha!

She broke the news in the fall when her then boyfriend, English lad Francis, proposed to her in Arizona. What really won her over was the HUGE diamond ring he presented her. I’m talking about Cracker Jack's size big. Actually, it was Cracker Jack's. After slipping it on her finger he said that with her style savvy, there was no way he could pick out the perfect ring, so he was leaving that up to her. Now that’s a man who knows how to handle a chic Slaughter!

The momentous event occurred after a flurry of uber-designed invitations poured into 202 West 122. Cocktail parties, Barbeques, Receptions, and oh yes, the Wedding. Sharon created each one to perfection and oh the paper stock!

As usual plane delays left the NYC set late for the first nights fests. We were driven directly to Sharon's family home and dove into the Kentucky Bourbon and pork while prowling the Slaughter homestead for incriminating pictures from Shay's youth. That wasn’t very hard.

Her parents were lovely hosts and we all had a fine time getting into party mode.
That evening I checked into the Martha Washington Inn, which was a little slice of Southern Heaven. Built in 1832, this Blue Ridge delight was riddled with creaky floors, crystal chandeliers and, my favorite, Zuber wallpaper!

Rick came in from Atlanta at 3 am and we woke up and had a grit fest in the AM before heading out to a Boat Social on the lake with the wedding party. West Virginia is just top drawer! The mountains, foliage, horses and of course the accent.

The afternoon was spent baking at the pool and catching up with friends from ATL and NYC. Once we were thoroughly cooked we dressed for the Bluegrass BBQ held on the grounds of a private club in a 200-year-old restored barn.

PERFECTION people!
We arrived to a sun setting and a Blue Grass trio diddling away while the bar staff poured vats of Tennessee tea.
Sharon's stories about the decor reminded me of that Saturday Night Live skit with Victoria Jackson where she makes her boyfriend binoculars and gold watches while on a deserted island.
"I love those garlands Shay, where did you find them?"
"Oh well, you see there is this old man in Mexico who makes these all by hand and cuts each one out and then strings them together."
"What a great piñata, Shay!"
"Thanks! I had it made by this piñata maker who crafts each one by hand and glues each piece of tissue on separately"

Where she finds these people, I will never know, but the results were spot on.
We all got tanked on bourbon, ate our weight in fried chicken and 'Texas Caviar', which is beans and nacho chips, then danced the night away to home grown music that took us all to another era.

Once the caravan unloaded back at the Inn we took over the balcony and rocking chairs and had our own house party until the wee hours. MaDora and I were so twiterpated by the end of the night that we decided to take a tour of the Inn at 2am. We found the office and stole a roll of packing tape and decided that it would be hysterical to tape someone into their room. So we taped room 78 to death from doorknob to floorboard and then ran away screaming. Oh Bourbon.

The next morning at breakfast we were dying to find out how our friends got out of their door. When asked, they curiously said there was not a problem in room 79. We taped the wrong door. The poor people who had to untangle themselves from our liquor induced web were great sports about it. Thankfully!

We pooled it for the day and then dressed for the 4PM wedding.
The Wedding was beautiful and Shay looked stunning in her Rocha wedding gown (RIP Rocha!).
She knew we weren’t there to be in a church for hours, so it was a quick and well-edited event.
Onto the reception!

Shay and Francis spun off on a vintage Austin Martin and the rest of us cruised over in the short bus.
The reception was held in another glamorous private clubhouse and we all roasted outside on the terrace, which looked over the rolling Blue Ridge Mountains. Booze flowed, food was abundant and as the night went on the socialites in attendance got frisky! The widow of the owner of the racetrack was courting me and the gals were all getting prodded about NYC fashion. It was great fun.

The band, Party on the moon.com (!), started off slow and then took it to Beyonce levels of rump shaking and wig waving. Hailing from Atlanta, I originally thought it was a band of tranny's but there was no mistaking these girls were the real deal. Rick and I sandwiched one of them and started shaking so fast that she forgot the words to her song and just burst out laughing.
As word got around that things were winding down the wedding party went into covert party mode. We slipped bottles of wine, champagne and vodka into ladies handbags, goodie bags, men's duffle bags. We were not to be dry tonight back at the inn.

As we were wrapping up the booze mission we were asked to move to the front of the clubhouse. Once gathered we were entertained by a dizzying fireworks display that rivaled Macys. Shay didnt miss a thing.

Once back to the end all hell broke loose and I, as usual ended up running amok in my drawers in the fountain. I will forever channel Scott and Zelda when near a mechanical pump and water.

The next morning we shared stories, piled on the grits and headed home while Shay and Francis wiped their brows and began gearing up for their second wedding in England. No rest for the wedded!

Be sure to check out Martha Stewart Wedding's spring issue of 2007 for more high style images...