Happy birthday to IMHO Baltimore’s quintessential bard, John Waters, who officiated at my wedding in 2006. This is what I wore. 
I had taken a notion (always a dangerous thing) that I needed to buy "investment" clothing. This is a St. John's suit that, even 14 years later, I think ages me. In my defense, I think Angelina Jolie was the face of the brand at the time.
Besides, it wasn't my first time at the rodeo, nor was it the groom's. We decided to marry in secret in October that year. Only John and my stepson were present.
We then ate Whole Foods cupcakes and John shared gossip from the Hairspray set, assuring us that Michelle Pfieffer KILLED as Miss Maryland Crab and that Travolta's Bawlmer accent was credible.
I have approximated, best I can, exactly what I wore that day, down to the jewelry, although I gave the shoes away only three months ago. But I can't be sure.
We were burglarized a month later and the digital camera with the photos was taken, along with one (of two) Ravens tickets and my billfold. My billfold was found in an alley three blocks away.
By the way, our brilliant plan to marry in secret did not go over well with our respective families, but I never regretted it.
I reworked the vows so they included this passage: "In a traditional ceremony, this is where a a father might be asked if he grants his permission. But we are joining two households, so Ethan is the one who must grant his blessing."
And Ethan, with perfect 12-year-old insouciance, shrugged and said: "I guess so."
By the way, Ethan is simply one of the best people I have ever known or ever will know and his mom deserves a lot of credit. Dad, too, of course. Maybe Nana. Not me!
(Dammit, Lippman, it was Miss Baltimore Crabs. Keep making mistakes like this and they'll cut you off from Otterbein cookies.)
