After a lot of hoopla, Chelsea Clinton and Marc Mezvinsky will finally marry today. I know, I’m bored too.
Like everything else relating to this wedding—cost estimates now range from the high six figures to somewhere near $3 million—all statements about the event, including who is designing the gowns for Chelsea, Hillary and bridesmaids, should probably end with a question mark, not a period. (Where is Julian Assange and WikiLeaks when we really need them?)
In my long journalism career, I can’t recall hearing as many reporters publicly uttering the phrase “we really don’t know (fill in the blank)” before launching into speculative riffs about subjects as disparate as menus (we’re told Chelsea is a vegetarian, or is it vegan? and suffers from gluten allergies); where the bridal couple is registered for gifts (they are said to be using aliases) and where the guests will answer nature’s call (high end bathroom trailers parked near the tent).
That no-news zone is fine by me because every bride deserves to call the shots at her wedding, and because Chelsea Clinton, strenuously aided by her very public parents, has spent much of her life ducking the press. Many guests—who will gladly surrender all cameras, cell phones and other high-tech communication devices—won’t even acknowledge they’ve been invited for fear of letting something slip.