This past weekend, I flew to Provence for the wedding of a not-to-be-named Celebrity Chef friend of mine. Knowing the Chef's formal style, I was expecting a polished, elegant affair on the gorgeous coast of the French Riviera. Having vacationed there quite frequently, I was au fait (familiar) with the area, the people, and, of course, the food. Needless to say, I was looking forward to a relaxing holiday.
Upon my arrival at the hotel, I was informed that the wedding party had organized special transportation for all guests to the event, as expected. I was then escorted to my chamber where I found a lovely wrapped item on my vanity. Noticing a note on top, I carefully opened it and discovered that the theme of the event was Country Western and to please wear the accessories provided. What?!?!
I was astounded! Country Western in the French Riviera? Why didn't they just have a ho-down in Texas? Although I was very displeased, I donned the cowboy hat and boots and waited in the lobby for transportation. As limousines came and went, I noticed a bus approaching filled with Cowboys and Cowgirls. A party bus? Fredrica does not ride party buses! Just as I turned to walk to my room, I was lassoed by a Cowboy who forced me onto the bus. The rest of the night was a blur as I was forced to drink beer and eat Kansas City steak and potatoes. I was mortified. Don't ya'all, I mean all of you, know what a French Riviera wedding is supposed to be like?
Still recovering,
Fredrica
15 years ago