What place does ‘a bit of colour’ have in the traditional wedding? Isn’t it high treason in the chapel of dull and duller?
Prick my wedding suit and it bleeds memories: of doing the conga line to You Can Call Me Al, of wincing when my best man compared me to Mel B, and of sporting 2007’s favourite hairstyle (or was it 2001’s? I can’t remember. Carlos D from Interpol, aka the hipster Phil Oakey, was definitely involved).
My wedding day outfit was flecked with those late noughties style staples, too: the knitted tie, the skinny fitted jacket, the uncreased white shirt. Due to sheer laziness when it comes to visiting the dry cleaners, it still smells vaguely of spilled cider and cranachan pudding. The suit wouldn’t look out of place now, but that’s more to do with the fact that men’s fashion moves at a glacial pace – and men’s suit fashion is basically frozen in time.