The Rituals of Marriage

The Commitments

Our resident Shepherd Market columnist ponders both the institution and Summer rituals of the English wedding

Column by Guy Shepherd

The ‘Silly Season’ is in full swing here at the shop. Silly because we become busier and busier making rings as the wedding season escalates. As a romantic and a jeweller, I obviously encourage this but like every aspect in life, as a mere human being, I also love to analyse both the good and bad elements in the institution of marriage. Every Yin has it’s Yang etcetera…

I gauge the start of this seasonal homage to love, coupled with the enduring dream of a future sun blest summer, at May Day. Historically, a time of great celebration, whether in a sleepy village dancing around a pole or in the more debauched environs of our great city. One 16th Century account I read boasted a three day long party near the Thames which was cut short by fireworks which caused wide spread damage. Wild. Fifty yards from my own shop door, a wall opposite Number 5 Hertford Street bears a proud boast on one of the blue plaques so famed in this town, “On this site stood the historic May Fair”. The image of celebration that this time of year conjures can be the bawdy, reckless and bohemian of Shepherd Market on the one hand or the refined perfection of an English wedding on the other. The first May Bank holiday weekend signals the start of a dedicated stampede for nuptial decadence, reaching a scorched earth crescendo in August and tailing off with the burnished leaves of autumn. On asking one engagement ring customer whether they had yet set a date for their Big Day, I was shocked to hear that the venue they wished to wed in was fully booked throughout the summers until 2018. Shotgun is out of the question.

But one has to admit that these dos are usually rather splendid. Dusting down the penguin jacket and striped strides, a crisp shirt under lavish silken tie, waistcoat and ‘kerchief, atop sparkling black Oxfords; the ritual has started and it provokes a glorious warmth of anticipation for the love of friends, food, fizz and fun. Whether religious or not, the hard pew on arse, belting hymns and teary vows are just the perfect prelude to the orgiastic pleasures of the white marquee, bedecked in sweet smelling flora and abundance of ex-girlfriends. The latter are wearing surprisingly little, much to the chagrin of Great Aunt Maud who is looking down her tiny nose at the mounds of beautiful flesh. The agony or ecstasy of a best man’s speech when your only care in the world is whether you will still have any ‘poo left for the toasts when he is done. The military precision of the gap year waiters assuring that the jus remains just so and the ice cream frozen, whilst all around we swelter and mop brows on once starched white linen.

After bitter coffee, the onslaught of wine is kickstarted again for the umpteenth time of the day and, “Hooray!”, your specialised subject of the moment, the dance floor, awaits keen attention as once again, eyes closed, you are erratically transported back to the Hacienda stage and its wild gyrations. Before you know it, flowers are tossed at scrabbling girls, confetti is thrown and taxis are summoned before blissful bed. Bravo to the English wedding.

Yet the pessimists amongst us holler that one in two of these most British nuptials are doomed to failure. Is this because of a decline in religious, social, financial, legal or ethical standards? What has changed? Whether you look at the Swinging Sixties, Roaring Twenties or behind the scenes of Victorian Britain, it seems not a lot. I was chatting at a dinner party to the writer Hallie Rubenhold. Her fascinating insights into London society in the 18th Century are well worth bearing in mind here, even if the example is extreme. Any self-respecting (ha!) lady or gentleman would think it very normal to have extra marital activities constantly afoot. Wives, mistresses, courtesans and prostitutes lived as neighbours throughout the city, whilst the more geographically specific ‘red light’ concept that we associate with areas such as Soho and my beloved Shepherd Market, actually arrived much later. Indeed, Hallie’s edited, ‘Harris’s List of Covent Garden Ladies’, a must have who’s who of hookers of the day, describes a Mayfair neighbour (in 1761) called Sally Cummins of Charles Street.

“A bluish eyed comely lass, but too much indebted to art for her complexion. She talks French, and sings agreeably, and in her cups is very religious, when you should find her to be a most bigoted Papist. She is descended of a genteel family in Wiltshire, and was bred in a nunnery in France. How she came among the sisters of carnality, nobody knows. She positively denies her having been debauched by a friar.”

Maybe it is just a modern frankness and openness that lifts the veil, pun intended, on our marital relationships. Surely, in this day and age, it is enough for people to recognise that they have come together, amidst billions of others, to give their very best crack at staying with each other for the rest of their lives? Given the extraordinary amounts of money spent on both marriage and divorce, so often people must just give up for one reason or another. One engagement ring client was sitting next to her fiancée and she spotted a cocktail ring that she evidently loved. He said that she might have it if they were still married in twenty years. He was not joking. But begone darkness! As you may remember from my Riddle column last month, I thrive on the passion and romance that the vast majority of my customers exude. Due to the nature of my brother’s art, we have an exciting and interesting cross section of this globe’s jewellery lovers. I wonder whether that type of person is better or worse at this game of life.

All I know is that I am lucky enough to share this amazing moment with them and wish every person all happiness and fortune in the voyage ahead. Whether your own romantic pitcher brims or bottoms, it is the inexplicable phenomenon of love that fills it in the first place. Whether in union with the traditional institutions or just as a simplistic declaration between two sweethearts, there is only one sign of marital permanence which lasts far longer than a faded dress or photo. It is the wedding ring. But I would say that, wouldn’t I?

Guy Shepherd is a Director at GUY&MAX