THIS IS ONE of those stories that make me want to say "I'm sorry" to gay people for the nonsense they endure from some heterosexuals who give the rest of us straight people a bad name.
So please, Alix Genter, accept my heartfelt apology that you were denied the chance to purchase the wedding gown of your dreams from Here Comes the Bride. The manager of the salon, in Somers Point, N.J., said she didn't want to be associated with your pending "illegal action."
Yep, that's actually how she referred to your wedding, next July, to your longtime partner (whose name you asked me to withhold in this column, as she's publicity-shy). You plan to apply for a civil union in New Jersey, where you live, and to be formally wed in New York, which just legalized gay marriage. But you're also arranging a big, blowout ceremony and reception for 200 at Normandy Farm in Blue Bell, where your family and friends will toast your commitment.
"We are very fortunate in that our families love and support us," you told me yesterday, from your apartment in Highland Park, N.J., near Rutgers University, where you're completing your Ph.D. in history. "They're so excited about our wedding."
And so it came to be that last Saturday, you were at Here Comes the Bride with a cheering section of six well-wishers helping you try on dresses: your mom and dad, your aunt, a cousin and two friends of the family. Yours is the kind of big, engaged clan in which everyone's involved in everyone else's lives, in a good way.
"The fact that even my dad would come to a bridal shop - that should tell you something about how close we all are," you said of your family members, who hail from Huntingdon Valley but spend weekends in Ventnor (hence your bridal shopping at the beach). "I spend almost every weekend with them at the Shore."
Last Saturday's trip to Here Comes the Bride was a typically fun outing. Your mom packed little "gift bags" of muffins and other munchies, and a neighbor contributed a bottle of champagne. Donna, the store manager, asked you not to eat in the salon - "The dresses are white; we don't want stains," she told you - so you saved the party for afterward.
By then, you had reason to pop the cork: You'd found the dress you wanted, but wondered if the manufacturer could use a more-lightweight fabric in the version you'd wear next summer. Donna promised to investigate, and you left the store, delighted.
So how weird it must have been to get a call on Tuesday from Donna (she wouldn't tell you her last name, and she wouldn't tell me, either, when I spoke with her yesterday), and to have a conversation so different from the one you had with her on Saturday.
Apparently, Donna was stunned to learn, after reviewing your customer-information sheet, that you're a lesbian. On the paperwork, you'd crossed out the word "groom" and written "partner" instead, and then inserted your fiancée's name.
By Ronnie Polaneczky, Daily News Columnist
Pilly.com
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