I confess: I love My Fair Wedding.
I know. I KNOW! Okay, God. But there it is. I can't help it.
I love how David Tutera looks so shy and retiring and humble when his bride and groom go into spasms of thanks during their over-the-top receptions. "Oh David! You've made our dreams come true and you are so awesome and we love you so much!"
You just know that a big old "Thank You David Tutera You Made My Dreams Come True" clause is written right into that wedding makeover contract.
And yet, I always tear up during the fabulous wedding ceremony when the handsome groom sees the beautiful bride in her perfect dress walking down the aisle in the fantasy venue. (Even if it's a church, it's still a fantasy venue -- David makes it so with flowers and tulle and sparkle!)
I am a goofy old broad.
My nephew is engaged and I confided in his lovely fiancee that she needs to plan the tackiest, cheap as shit wedding ever, then submit it to David Tutera so that she can cop a bazillion dollar wedding for nothing.
Well, maybe not for nothing; the cost is right there in that contract that you know must exist. I suspect that you must scream "OH MY GOD! I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" a hundred times, and you must act kind of bitchy at least twice ("No! I love my dress, even if it is fugly and too small and makes me look like a can-can dancer covered in whipped cream!"), and you must go along with the incredible pimping of wedding products -- everything from dresses to food to cocktails to linens to ice sculpture to cakes to caterers.
At the moment David is dealing with a Monopoly-themed wedding. I can't look away.