PHOTOGRAPHS��COLIN�BELL��GETTY�IMAGES��HAIR��ADIE�HANNAH�AT�SOHO�MANAGEMENT�USING�KERASTASE���MAKE-UP��AIMEE�ADAMS�AT�SOHO�
MANAGEMENT�USING�ARMANI���JASMINESTUDIOS�COM���DAWN�WEARS�TOP��MARKS�&�SPENCER��LEGGINGS��WAREHOUSE��SHOES��TOMMY�HILFIGER
O P I N I O N
DAWN PORTER shares…
Here comes the bride –
so hide those flowers…
have only ever been a
bridesmaid once. I was
four. I haven’t been one
I since for two reasons: one
is, of course, that I haven’t
been asked. The second (which might
explain the first) is that I have made it
quite clear to my friends that being a
bridesmaid is my idea of hell.
I have issues with being told what
to wear as it is, but being told where
to stand and, most importantly, how
to behave goes against every intention
I have when I rock up to a wedding. That
intention being to have copious amounts
of champagne-fuelled fun – not follow a
set of rules.
However, feeling like a spoilsport,
I decided I wanted to prove that I wasn’t
a total misery guts when it came to
being involved in a wedding. So, while
mindlessly drunk, I offered to do the
flowers for a friend’s big day. Having
been raised by a flower arranger (is that
what you call them?), I presumed that
what I’d watched my auntie do was
ingrained into my brain. I mean, how
hard could it be?
Two days before the wedding, I was
all set. I had a bunch of Bianca roses
(the bride’s requested flower) and a
pretty piece of foliage for each of the
buttonholes, plus 20 more roses for the
bouquet. A base of oasis and some fancy
handiwork, and 40 minutes later I was
done. It weighed a ton and was twice the
size of the bride’s head (actually, it was
likely to kill someone if she decided to
throw it) but nevertheless, it looked
gorgeous. I went to bed.
The next day, I travelled from my
London flat to Nottingham for the
wedding. I’d done the flowers two days
in advance because, apparently, they’d
last. Or they might have, if it hadn’t
been the hottest day of the century
so far and I wasn’t being driven three
hours in my mates C-reg Micra with
no air conditioning.
Half way up the M1, the petals
were wilting and turning brown right
before my eyes. It was like the end of
ET all over again. Panic-stricken,
we pulled into a service
station and wrapped
streams of drenched loo
roll around the stems.
Nothing helped.
When we finally arrived
– the bride waiting for us in
the driveway – I was almost
sick. ‘You can’t see until
tomorrow,’ I joshingly squeaked
as I ran past her, hiding the brown
roses with my cardigan as I legged it
into the house. I hid the flowers in the
fridge, I tried to act calm while thinking
of a plan B: M&S carnations? ARGHH!!!
As the girls drank to her last night of
freedom, I sat wilting (appropriately) in
the corner, ridden with guilt. I had
single-handedly ruined her wedding
I was ashamed and wanted to go home.
The next morning I crept into the
kitchen and opened the fridge, hands
shaking. I was braced for a mass grave
“I was guilt-ridden. I had managed to
single-handedly ruin her wedding. I was
ashamed and I wanted to go home”
of dead leaves, but instead the flowers
were... ALIVE! As creamy and plump as
when I’d bought them. Sure there were
speckles of brown, but they looked
beautiful – stunning, in fact. Just as
I sighed with relief, the bride walked in.
“Dawn, it’s beautiful. You’re so clever
to do this.”
“No problem, it was a piece of cake.”
I left her to admire it and crawled
back into bed.
Misery guts for not wanting
to be a bridesmaid? Maybe. But
spoilsport or not, from now on I
think I’ll just stick to drinking all
the champagne and being a fun
guest. Surely that’s better
than flowers?
LILU: A GIRL'S
BEST FRIEND
DUE TO MY
INABILITY
TO PACK
LIGHTLY, I
LEFT MY
Here’s the
thing…
SIAMESE CAT LILU IN
LONDON WITH FRIENDS
UNTIL I KNOW HOW
LONG I’LL BE IN LA.
BEING APART FROM HER
IS REALLY HARD FOR ME.
FOR FIVE YEARS I WAS THAT
STEREOTYPICAL SINGLE
WOMAN WHO SPENT ALL MY
TIME TALKING TO HER CAT.
NOW I HAVE A BOYFRIEND,
SO I HAVE TWO PEOPLE TO
TALK TO, BUT I STILL MISS
LILU LIKE CRAZY. THINK
SHE MIGHT BE ON A PLANE
QUICKER THAN I THOUGHT…
FRIDAY�NIGHT?�
IT'S�STEAK�NIGHT
Every Friday, without doubt,
no ma�er where I am or who
I am with, I eat steak. Steak
on Fridays is in many ways
the highlight of my week
because I love it so much
that devoting
a day to it is
very exciting.
Because of
Steak on
Fridays I try
to balance my
diet, so, by
instruction
of the
McCartney
family, I also do Vegetarian
Mondays. Which are fun,
but, man, do they make me
look forward to Fridays!
END OF THE WEEK?
EAT SOME MEAT
WWW�STYLIST�CO�UK����
WWW�S TYLIS T�CO� U K���
To view a Ceros magazine you need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser and have the flash player 8 or higher installed. To install the latest flash player, click the icon above, install the flash plugin and then click here to refresh this page.