Are Lavish Weddings Okay?

Your presence is a present and the couple said "no gifts."

Sometimes people ask me if I find it hard to decide what to write about, and I have to say that that’s never really been the case. First, there’s the fact that when I came up with the concept for this newsletter, I banked over 100 prompts based on the very common questions modern life poses on a regular basis, but once you add to that that the world generates no shortage of moments that would make any reasonable person’s head spin and you’ll know why sometimes I am about 2/3 of the way through a newsletter when I realize it’s time to scrap it and address some other much more pressing issue. Just in the week that was, I considered covering the appropriateness of asking people who they are voting for (no – and many reasons to keep it to yourself even if you are not asked – I am sure I will revisit this one before the General); Is Socialism Okay? (realized it would take too much research – this ain’t college, my babies); Is It Okay to Retire (somewhat facetious, obviously, but headlines about the departure of Anna Wintour from the top of Vogue’s masthead were everywhere and several people asked my opinion, G_d bless them. But I feel like this one may also re-emerge, so stay tuned).

I don’t know what I was expecting from the Bezos-Sanchez takeover of Venice last weekend, but after reading endless takes (and takedowns), I realized that any thing I could say for or against the couple and their choices is truly meaningless. What I would or wouldn’t do if I had access to one of the most massive money piles in the history of civilization, what kind of wedding I would plan if I were engaged, what I think about the guest list, their relationship, the coverage or the authenticity of any of it – why? And if I had a nickel for each of the Instagram users who posted “Money can’t buy you class” (or some variant) on the various Vogue accounts that inventoried the particulars in a breathless tone that screamed not just “WE HAVE THE EXCLUSIVE” but “Read the Room? What Room?” I might be on my way to throwing my own multimillion dollar celebration.

Remember when Tony and Tina’s Wedding was a thing?

But I decided that there was something worth noting here, and while I don’t think we have collectively gotten behind a celeb union since Chandler and Monica (and probably never will again), there’s something incredibly specific that bothers us about the wedding – and indeed the relationship – of the Mr. and the newly-minted Mrs. Bezos, and I wanted to pinpoint exactly what it might be.

Sure, people sniped at the guest list, but was that entirely fair? The assembly of celebrities seemed a bit random, but beyond the people we all knew they were friends with (Leo, Kim), they hosted entertainers that most people otherwise have no issue with (though if someone saw Kevin Spacey, Roseanne Barr or Steve Bannon alighting a vaporetto, send me a DM). I have endured the flopping of enough musical performances at parties that the prospect gives me instant anxiety, but reading that entertainment would be provided “by friends” and then seeing a picture of Usher reminded me that I already have a set list to hand the man himself for the party I throw after I win Powerball (Caught Up, U Got It Bad, Love in this Club – in case you were wondering). Sure, some of the faces were surprising – how are Sydney Sweeney and Brooks Nader so tight with a couple twice their age is what everyone was wondering (and was there some message to be gleaned from the fact that they + Kourtney Kardashian were all wearing pink strapless gowns? ) But isn’t that often the case at a wedding, or really any big party? “What is that person doing here” or “How do they even know him/her?” is a common enough query that there’s even a convention around asking (and it’s this: don’t).

Some have gotten riled up by venue they chose: a city that they, their planners, guests and attendant security details surely taxed if not overwhelmed in a manner similar to, as New Yorkers know, what it’s like to try to cross Midtown when the UN has convened. Venice has always been incredibly vulnerable to the vicissitudes of climate, prone to swamping by floodwater since the 5^th century (which is long before greenhouse gasses were headline news). We may presume that the couple attempted to get ahead of this by making donations to several organizations committed to the city’s preservation, but this seemed to do little to offset the public’s awareness of the environmental toll generated by this couple alone – think not just of the private planes and mega-yacht and rocketships, but of billions of Amazon packages: a plastic-wrapped thing that came to you on a carbon-spewing jet instead of obtained by a walk down the shop in your zip code (which is no longer there, by the way). I’ve seen it proposed that they should have married at, say, their compound in the Hawaiian Islands, but if you know anything about native Hawaiians’ objection to the swarm of billionaires who have bought up vast tracts of land that should “belong” to no one, this would have drawn a different kind of ire.

Perhaps it’s the sheer expense of the affair, which I have seen estimated no lower than $20M and as high as $50M, though Bezos’s fortune is so gargantuan that that even the larger figure – or double it – or double it again – amounts to an infinitesimal fraction of his wealth. It also means that no charitable organization he or they as a couple chose to support would go without (at least theoretically). Does it not make sense that he would entertain at a level proportionate to his net worth? And since such a thing is truly not possible, what difference does it make? The average American spends a far greater percentage of their own assets on the typical wedding – usually a low five-figure sum. This is actually a far riskier, more foolhardy play and we don’t bat an eyelash, and in fact believe that a wedding of one’s “dreams” is an important symbol of not just the love a couple shares but that which their family bears for them.

Is it that their relationship began (allegedly) in infidelity, or that second weddings are “supposed” to be more modest. And taste is subjective, but a foam party? A lingerie-and-pajamas theme? Or something else? Or all of these things combined? And, and, and?

While there are surely a few sound arguments behind the moralizing and tutting, some decisions they made that were clearly doomed to be seized upon by the court of public opinion as crass (set aside the graphic design on the leaked “no gifts” circular – the fact that they failed to hire a skilled copywriter was the one that offended my sensibilities most of all) or tone-deaf. But if we are willing to call it what it really is, I maintain that we will soon find ourselves at the conclusion that there is something about human beings – or maybe just Americans, or maybe just Americans who have been almost constantly online in the nearly 20 years since a really good smartphone came to market, or maybe just Americans in this fraught, uncertain hour – that not only doesn’t want to believe that these two are happy, we don’t want them to be. I think we instinctively believe that if people who have literally everything cannot have our respect, we have done our part to keep that fragile thread of cosmic justice from fraying completely. But is that the right take?

When we think of parasocial relationships, it’s the reverent sort that always comes to mind, hallmarked by vehement, emotion-over-logic opinions that often seem puzzling to the observer just beyond the frame: the conviction that exes or business rivals of the beheld person have no standing and are ripe for targeting or cancellation; that the object of affection is incapable of transgression no matter what they do. But the Bezoses present a steadily emerging flipside: constant discourse about the people who can do no right, and believing our ardent censure is a hotline to them (if you long to know more about this phenotype, get yourself to the comments section of any outlet that runs a picture of Kim Kardashian). The uncomfortable truth is whether we’re talking about someone we love or someone we hate, we should assume that the only frequency they hear is that they have remained in the conversation. Like dogs, we may presume they don’t hear the whole sentence but merely their own names.

Would silencing our chatter make a dent in the assets of Mr. Bezos, who has amassed a stockpile of cash so large that I think we probably need to coin a term for it (bezosian?) Certainly not, though when I walk past the empty storefronts that used to be the deli where I picked up milk the times I got home late and remembered I had none for my morning tea or coffee, or the pharmacy where I used to pick up my uncle’s medication that launched a fundraiser to stay open before finally going under, I think: in an oblique way, this has all become Amazonland. Its holdings are made up of revenue that used to be directed at businesses staffed by people I knew and will probably never see again, and that makes me deeply sad. I don’t know what kind of person he is and I don’t need to, but this is why it’s impossible for me to venerate him. This isn’t even your reminder to reduce your dependence on the online behemoth: it’s to consider the folly of thinking that complaining about the dish excuses us from gorging ourselves at the table. Like no contact with an ex, when we want change, sometimes we have to change it all.

And yet: I did not plan – and actually did not want to – cover this wedding because it felt like complicity…but then it crossed my feed via one of the accounts that I follow and I was hooked, then disappointed that the content wasn’t better, more detailed, less relatable. I was bored – and then annoyed (with myself, with them) about it.

There is so much we forget about conversations on the internet; so many ways we imagine that they produce the same impression or result as the ones we have in real life. But maybe it’s time to think of our behavior in this place not as speech, but as money. When we engage – even to say “who cares?” – when we follow and view, we have invested. We perpetuate these cycles because the media gambles on our appetites for this kind of content, and every bit of engagement showers them with another jackpot. Lord knows there are many systems we have to dismantle or rebuild, but the easiest gesture here would be to just shift our focus and not let it wander back; to stop enriching the already wealthy by giving away the one resource they are desperate to keep renewing. If our desire is to bring shame any of these fame-seekers and moguls of attention, could we try that classic grade school burn: letting them throw a huge party – or an entire weekend of them – and then refusing to show up? I’m willing to try it if you are — can’t wait to not see you there.

Note: if you are craving the literal opposite of everything I’ve just talked about (as well as an opportunity to support a creator), may I suggest you subscribe to the newly launched Substack of the wonderful Kerilynn Pamer called Coyote Swan. Some of you might already know her from CAP Beauty (or Castor & Pollux, for the legacy New Yorkers). For me Kerilynn has embodied one of the unique, remaining joys of social media: some of the people I have gotten to know best virtually (and especially through the Pandemic) became treasured friends — though I’d like to note that we first met because I was a customer of her small business! She loves food, animals, style, mindful living, books – I hope you revel in the beautiful, considerate and conscious way she sees the world.