Notes & Queries
This page borrows the form of the old correspondence journals, in which a reader put a question to the column and whoever knew the answer supplied it underneath.1 Below are the queries already put to us, answered as fully as the facts allow and left honestly bracketed where a thing is not yet settled; anything still unanswered may be sent to [EMAIL], and we will print it here.
Q. What is meant by garden party attire?
A. That the afternoon will be spent on grass, in May, and that you should dress for both the photographs and the lawn. Linen, florals, a summer suit, a hat if you own one and have been waiting for an occasion. Heels at your own peril: the ground is soft, and a stiletto finds every soft inch of it.
Q. Is there an open bar?
A. There is, and we say so with some satisfaction. Wine, beer and liquor, from the moment the bar opens until the lights come up. No cash bar, no drink tickets, no rationing, and no moment in the evening at which the generosity quietly stops. We settled this before we settled almost anything else.
Q. May I bring the children?
A. Yes. Children are welcome, and a garden is a far kinder venue for them than a ballroom. Bring the ones you would rather not leave behind, and let them run themselves into the ground before the dancing starts.
Q. May I bring a guest?
A. Whoever is named on your envelope is invited, and the envelope is the whole of the rule. If you believe a name has been left off in error, write to us rather than assume the worst; we would far rather invite widely than curate a small and tasteful list, and errors of omission are the ones we are most anxious to correct.2
Q. Where do I park?
A. [parking note]. Both the church and the house will have their arrangements printed here once they are fixed, and we would rather leave this line visibly empty than send you circling a block on a guess.
Q. Is the ceremony far from the reception?
A. They are two addresses and one short drive. We marry at Indianola Church of Christ in Columbus, and then move to a rented house for the garden party, which is where the rest of the day happens. Plan on driving, and plan on not needing to drive home again.
Q. The invitation gives no address for the garden. Is that an oversight?
A. It is not. The house is rented and the address is forthcoming; it will appear on this site the day we have it, and everyone who has replied will hear it directly.
Q. What if it rains?
A. It is the middle of May in Ohio, so the question is a fair one and the sky owes us nothing. [the rain plan]. Whatever the weather does, the ceremony happens indoors at the church, and the bar is unaffected by meteorology.
Q. By when must I reply?
A. By [RSVP DATE]. A caterer counts heads long before the guests do, so an early yes helps us more than a late one, and an early no helps us nearly as much.
Q. Is there a dress code the men should know about?
A. The same one, read the same way. Garden party attire means a light suit or a jacket you can take off, a shirt that survives an afternoon in the sun, and shoes that tolerate grass. A tie is welcome and not required; a linen jacket over an open collar is entirely correct. Nobody will be turned away for guessing wrong.
Q. Can I request a song?
A. Yes, and we are asking rather than merely permitting. There is a line on the reply card for the song that will get you onto the floor; a full dance floor is the entire point of the evening, and we intend to engineer one deliberately.
Q. Are the times on the schedule final?
A. No. The order of the day is settled; the hours are still being agreed with the church, which is why they stand bracketed. The date does not move: Saturday, the fifteenth of May, two thousand and twenty-seven.
Q. May I take photographs?
A. In the garden, gladly, and we would like to see them afterwards. During the ceremony itself, put the telephone away and watch with your own eyes. [If you are hiring a photographer, say so here — that they are paid to do that part, and do it better from the aisle you are standing in.]
Q. Is the groom really going to put on a toga?
A. He is. Roman history is his field, the Ides of May are his date, and he has waited a long while for an occasion nobody could talk him out of. The change comes late in the evening, after the dancing has properly begun. Guests are welcome to arrive prepared; we are supplying the occasion and not the wool.
We will keep this column open as long as the post keeps arriving. If your question is not answered above, or if an answer here has aged badly against the facts, write to us at [EMAIL] and we will print the correction. Nothing you ask is too small, and the guest who asks a plain question about parking does the rest of the room a service. — The Editors