These boots were made for walking

You have to be careful when you write a blog. And curiously enough, it's not the bad things that will get you into trouble, it's the good. You can't write too many glowing things about one couple or else other couples will start to feel left out. One has to be very diplomatic, very reserved and all that.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, can I tell you guys how much fun Christi Trew and Chase Cox are? Christi and Chase were married last week in Chevy Chase, starting with a beautiful ceremony at Blessed Sacrament, the same church where I recently photographed Christy Weschler and Chris Scango's wedding (see below), followed by an awesome reception at the Chevy Chase Club.

It's probably becoming somewhat evident from previous posts, but I tend to bond with couples who laugh a lot and who share my sense of irreverence, especially for the ever-growing pomposity that has infiltrated today's weddings.

Christy Trew is not a pompous kind of gal, and I use the word gal purposefully here. Raised in Colorado, she exudes western culture so much that I half expected a horse to ride up at any moment and whisk her away. The grass is always greener, they say, and maybe I'm just attracted to couples who remind me of something other than my Long Island upbringing.

(Don't get me wrong: I'm still a Met fan, and I still love driving out to Montauk Point, but let's be honest--Route 110 in Farmingdale is not exactly the Rockies.)

As is always the case, I knew Christi would be a great bride the moment she walked into the studio. Her heart was set on one thing--having a fun wedding--and not getting bogged down in the formalities. And when I met up with her in her room at the Chevy Chase Club, nothing had changed. She got ready with the help of cousin--no need for a posse, lit up at the mention of a Bloody Mary, and couldn't go enough about how she wanted to ditch her shoes and get into her boots. Needless to say, her 'I do's' to Chase weren't twenty minutes old when she came out sporting a pair of well-worn boots under her wedding dress.

The boots were just the beginning of a great party, complete with a mini-Hora (they're not Jewish), a dancing alligator (maybe someone can post a comment and let me know exactly what that was all about!), and way too much breakdancing.

And on Monday afternoon, when she should have been relaxing and enjoying the start of her new life, Christi still found time to call and thank me for my efforts.


If you're thinking I'm going to end with a certain John Denver song, after last week's ode to Bruce Springsteen's Thunder Road post, think again. Thunder Road I could type from memory. But John Denver?

As we say on Long Island, fugghedaboutit.


Matt