Breaking Down Ivy Getty’s 'Fantasy Wedding Weekend' in San Francisco

If there was ever a reason to come out of Insufferable Wedding Announcement retirement, it's this one.

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I thought it was over. My love affair — much like 50 percent of all marriages in America — ended abruptly. Each Friday, I would lick my chops while clicking into the newest weekly wedding announcement column from The New York Times. I could almost bet the house on the column I was opening (always in an incognito window to avoid actually subscribing to The New York Times) would have some “insufferable” tidbits in it that I could expose to the rest of the world.

But one day, I received an email from a close relative of a couple who was featured in one of my write-ups. Not only was the bride distraught over what was written, but she was even more dismayed by the fact that The Daily Mail had picked up the story as well. I guess the traffic driven by little ol’ me was fine, but The Daily Mail? Time to write some scathing emails to the source.

Guilt? I felt it. Regret? Well, it started to seep into my psyche. I knew my days as a wedding critic were numbered. Luckily for me, however, it wasn’t a decision I had to make myself because the company I was writing for bought too many Patagonia fleeces, Vineyard Vines Shep Shirts, and t-shirt blanks. We folded and the writing was on the wall — my stint was over.

Sure, all good things must come to an end. But this isn’t a good thing. This is vitriolic hatred of the wedding industry as displayed through the miserable write-ups of The New York Times was anything but good. It was insincere praise of wealth, excess, and hipsters alike.

So when Ivy Getty’s wedding was covered by Vogue? Well, the three-year span since my last coverage felt like it was a flash in the pan. I put on my boots, fastened by spurs, and got back on the horse. It was time to ride.

All original text is in quotes taken directly from Vogue. Sigh.

Artist and model Ivy Love Getty, the great granddaughter of J. Paul Getty and one of the heiresses to the oil fortune he amassed, married photographer Tobias Alexander Engel in a ceremony officiated by Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi at City Hall in San Francisco. The bride first met her groom through a family member, and they eventually ran into each other again at Paris Fashion Week. “I saw this cute guy who was taking photos of the event and of me,” she remembers. “I naturally went over, and we started talking. Quickly we realized that we had met before, the year before.”

This story — like all relatable love stories — started as they all start: with two people who have unrealistic jobs meeting in an unrealistic fashion only to have an even more unrealistic wedding officiated by an unrealistic officiant.

I had my brother-in-law officiate our wedding. He crushed it. At no point did I look at my now-wife and say to her, “Wait, should we get The Speaker of the fucking House to do it instead?” But alas, I have no oil fortune nor do I have a flourishing modeling career. Yes, times are tough on my end but we shall endure.

While they were dating, the New York-based couple traveled often. On one of their trips abroad, Toby asked Ivy to marry him. “After attending the Unicef Ball, we went to Capri for three days,” Getty says. “Normally, I pick where we go out to eat, but this time Toby insisted he pick. This didn’t raise any red flags, but when I got to the restaurant, I thought to myself ‘Oh he really planned this. We had a table overlooking the entire island away from the rest of the restaurant. The waitress came, and we ordered our food. As the sun was getting ready to set, we went outside to take photos of it. Toby set his iPhone timer and got down on one knee. The timer went off at the perfect moment as we have the most incredible photo.”

I, too, cure my hangovers from charity balls by spending three days in Capri. Oh, wait, no, I actually sit on my couch watching Love Island with my wife trying to dissect where each of their English accents is derived from.

We actually planned to honeymoon in Italy but considering the fact that we got married just a couple of weeks before the ongoing global pandemic, we shut that idea down — quick. Glad to see the global elite could still jet across the pond while the rest of us suffered, though.

Oh, and the iPhone move? Real class act there. If he were anything like me, he would’ve set up the camera, walked away, watched the camera fall over, and then have to regroup and start all over again all while sweating through the turtleneck that seemed like a good idea at the time.

Toby proposed with a sapphire engagement ring on a yellow gold band that’s reminiscent of Princess Diana’s ring. Diamonds from a necklace Ivy’s grandmother gave her when she was a teenager were added around the center stone. “It is the most unique piece of jewelry and so sentimental to me,” she says. “I can’t help but smile every time I look down and see it!”

I think it’s safe to say that if you’re basing your engagement ring off Princess Diana, you’re playing on a different field than everyone else. I only base the following things off Princess Diana at this point:

1. My post-workout athleisure fits.

2. My future spending because the Princess Di Beanie Babies my dad saved from the nineties aren’t worth what we thought they’d be worth in 2021.

Also, does anyone want to explain to Ivy what “unique” means? Because nothing can be “the most unique piece of jewelry” if it’s inspired by something the most famous princess in the history of princesses wore.

Because of the pandemic, the couple didn’t immediately start planning, instead biding their time a bit. They wanted their friends and family to be able to celebrate with them, especially as Ivy had lost both her grandmother Ann—the notable interior designer and philanthropist who raised her—and her father John Gilbert Getty in 2020. “When my beloved grandmother passed away, I knew I wanted to have the wedding in my house to honor her,” Getty says. “My grandmother interior designed each room of the house which allows me to feel as if she is there with me. I would be able to look around the room and see something that reminds me of her. Her presence is everywhere in that home. The theme of my entire wedding is the house and my grandmother.”

Not going to say anything negative here out of respect for her lost loved ones.

“I was lucky enough to have stayed in the house where Ivy and Tobias celebrated their wedding,” Vogue contributing editor Hamish Bowles (who has also recently been appointed the Editor in Chief of World of Interiors) says. “It’s one of the great treasure houses of America, suffused with Ann’s alchemical touch.”

Hamish fucking Bowles. If I find out the author of this Vogue column is related to Camilla Parker, I’m going to absolutely lose my shit.

Art and panels from the house were incorporated into the save-the-dates and invitations. “Growing up in that house and being around great parties my whole life, I never had to turn to Pinterest for inspiration,” Getty says. “I am fortunate that one of my best friends, who I’ve known my entire life, is event planner Stanlee Gatti. I also hired wedding planner Jocelyn Arelt of Arelt Events. I had the list of creatives surrounding me that I always knew would help plan my wedding. The process showed me how much planning and effort goes into a wedding, and I had so much fun doing it!”

White Girls: “Here’s my Pinterest inspiration board for our wedding.”

White Girls Who Inherited An Oil Fortune: “Fuck Pinterest, my inspiration is the Gatsby-esque parties my grandparents threw at their San Francisco mansion.”

The wedding kicked off with a British Invasion Mod Party at The Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco on Thursday night. Stanlee’s inspiration for the first night of festivities was Barberella, the 1968 sci-fi film directed by Jean-Claude Forest. It took Stanlee’s team seven days to reimagine what normally feels like an airline hanger inside into a full-fledged nightclub, complete with shiny silver walls. “I knew the walls were silver the day before, I didn’t know anything else,” Getty admits. “I didn’t tell them anything specific. Everything has been a complete surprise.”

Okay, we’ve reached the point of the column where there’s just going to be a lot to unpack. Perhaps too much to unpack, frankly. For the sake of brevity, let’s break each of these down one-by-one.

• British Invasion Mod Party at The Palace of Fine Arts in San Francisco — I’m sorry but if there’s a theme attached to any wedding I’m attending (especially the rehearsal dinner), I’m probably RSVPing “no” and buying them something mid-range off the registry.

• Sci-Fi Film Inspiration — Yeah, I’m sure Ivy just absolutely loves 1960s sci-fi films, specifically Barberella. If she can give me three total plot points from that movie, I’ll re-retire from doing wedding announcement breakdowns. For fuck’s sake.

• “Everything has been a complete surprise.” — All I’ll say is this: when it comes to a bride’s wedding, there are no surprises to said bride. One thing goes wrong and the entire POFA is going down in flames.

“I don’t do storyboards, proposals, or anything that formal,” Gatti says. “I put clay on the wheel and spin.”

Honestly, I want to hate on this quote but that’s just pure unadulterated bad boy shit. Next time someone asks me to prepare for a meeting or Zoom call, I’m hitting them with that clay line. It’s pure gold. Not the type of yellow gold that surrounds a Princess Diana-inspired sapphire, but gold nonetheless.

Guests arrived on the scene in short, sexy sequins, gogo boots, and big half up, half down hair—ready to party just as soon as their vaccination cards were checked and their phones were locked and stowed away in pouches. Dancers put on a show in clear plastic bubbles while Mark Ronson DJed. Eventually, Earth Wind & Fire took the stage. Ivy wore three looks during the course of the evening, all styled by Carrie Goldberg of CLG Creative. A vintage Emanuel Ungaro dress with coral and diamond earrings from Stephen Russell, a vintage Emilio Pucci dress and D’Accori shoes, and finally a customized vintage Norman Norell from Happy Isles in L.A.

Disco theme. “No Phones Allowed” policy. Dancers in clear plastic bubbles. Mark fucking Ronson. Earth Wind & fucking Fire. You truly can’t make this shit up.

And if you believe that they actually checked vaccination cards at the door, you’re absolutely joking yourself. If I know anything about the rich white elite of The United States of America, there’s not a chance in hell someone got turned away at the door. They probably had a “vaccination card station” in place of a cigar-rolling station at the dinner because rich people light their vaccination cards on fire faster than their money.

Also, I know I’m not the most “in” on fashion designers, but I’ve never heard of Russell, Pucci, D’Accori, or Norell in my life. Flexes all around.

“It wasn’t hard to get inspired by each event, starting with the mod themed welcome party,” Goldberg explains. “We agreed that nothing should play it safe, and that we should focus on turning up the volume on the ‘60s vibe Ivy’s so inspired by. We referenced iconic photos of Twiggy, Mary Quant, Jean Shrimpton, and more to set the tone.”

Families across the country are struggling to make ends meet. Loved ones lost. Political disarray. But when Ivy wants that shit turned up to 11, we turn that shit up to 11. That’s just how this shit works.

The following day, guests joined the couple for a picnic lunch at the Log Cabin on Presidio, overlooking the city—IV drips were at the ready for anyone in need of help recovering from the night before. “Butterflies are sentimental to Ivy, and so we incorporated them wherever possible,” Goldberg says of the bride’s look for this daytime event. “This archive Alexander McQueen gown from Pre-Fall 2016 had her name all over it: A black lace gown with an open back and a mock neck featuring dozens of hand-embroidered butterflies whose wings fluttered as she walked. It was all about dark romance, something soft but with a dose of edge—we paired it with Christian Louboutin platform sandals, Stephen Russell antique earrings, Chloe sunglasses, and a cheeky Romeo and Juliet clutch by Olympia Le Tan.”

Nothing says “northern California” quite like getting hangover-driven IV drip while surrounded by your closest friends while the bride romps around in a black lace gown with handmade butterflies all over it.

Don’t get me wrong, this sounds like the chillest of sitches but can’t we just cure our hangovers like real San Francisco locals? A couple Anchor Steams down the hatch and some oysties from Hog Island before one of the waiters tells you to leave because the next reservation has arrived.*

*Only real San Francisco locals will understand this tweet.

I’m getting a Salsiccia pie from Pizzeria Delfina and skipping this shit altogether.

That evening, an intimate group gathered for a ceremony rehearsal at city hall, followed by an intimate dinner at Quince restaurant. Ivy collaborated with her dear friend Paul Burgo of Factory New York on a custom look—a sequin midi dress in shades of fuchsia, black, and white, paired with a custom headpiece. “Accessories were kept sleek but undeniably Ivy,” Goldberg says. “Shoulder duster earrings by Material Good, Amina Muaddi pumps, and a crystal-edged, black satin mini bag.”

I just went to Quince’s website to see what kind of price points we’re working with for this dinner. What’d I find, you ask? Well, in typical ten-Michelin star restaurant fashion, there wasn’t a chance in hell they actually listed prices anywhere which means none of us can afford it.

Oh, wait, just dove deeper and the Seasonal Tasting Menu is only $360 per person with a wine pairing that’s a casual $320 per person. Super casual.

The wedding day started with a pajama party. “We have the whole mezzanine level,” Getty explains. “There’s a styling room with all of the extra clothes, and there’s two hotel rooms that they removed all of the hotel furniture from and then there are these individual Margiela boxes with all of the bridesmaids’ names engraved on them.”

You’d think Ivy would be rich enough to avoid being basic but I can almost guarantee that each matching pajama set had hand-stitched monograms on them. What Ivy forgot to explain is that the thread they used for the embroidery was actually hair from various now-extinct animals formerly native to San Francisco. A beautiful tribute to a beautiful city.

“Normally, I don’t do bridesmaids dresses because bridal gowns alone take up so much of my time,” Galliano says. “But as I was so bewitched by Ivy and her stories of these women she had grown up with—her bridesmaids—made an exception. Before I knew it, the bridesmaids numbers reached fourteen! And these girls are the Gen Z babies. I dressed their mothers and their aunties! Creating the bridesmaids’ dresses wasn’t easy with the current travel situation, but bravo to Ivy, Alexis [Roche], and Auntie Vanessa for coordinating everything. You can’t imagine getting these girls all together at Claridge’s at 4:00 a.m. in the morning, walking around in peignoirs for 48 hours to do their fittings. They were so lovely and such fun. Some of the dresses have taken on a more bias-cut influence, and some have taken on a double-layering technique played out in pale, thunderous grays and lilacs, with lamés woven to echo those colors.”

Oh, you think it was hard being a bridesmaid in that wedding from 2018 when Claire turned into an absolute monster and demanded everyone show up at 8 a.m. to get their hair done ahead of the ceremony? Imagine spending 48 fucking hours getting fitted for a bridesmaid dress that you have to refinance your home to afford.

Sure, Galliano says they were “lovely and such fun” but you know they had a side text going talking all the shit in the world about Ivy. And if anyone has screenshots from said side text, please DM me.

Ivy got ready with cousin Vanessa Waibel and actress Anya Taylor-Joy in the penthouse suite at the Fairmont Hotel. She wore her John Galliano for Maison Margiela Haute Couture down the aisle, paired with a couture veil and headdress. Christian Louboutin shoes, designed in collaboration with John Galliano, completed Ivy’s look along with pieces borrowed from her grandmother’s jewelry collection.

Can you imagine being Cousin Vanessa here? You catch the invite and think you’re about to be wined and dined with your favorite cousin, Ivy, and then a Golden Globe-winning A-List actress shows up and cucks your entire vibe.

Anya also puts out major “Wow, they didn’t have to make any alterations to my dress because Galliano said I have the perfect build” vibes. Even I’m jealous and I’m a 34-year-old dude who no longer fits into his wedding tux because of the pandemic weight I’ve put on.

“John has been talking about the dress for months,” Bowles says. “And he’s understandably obsessed with Ivy who is not only beautiful but the acme of cool and charm." 

Cousin Vanessa punching air right now.

Stanlee and his team carpeted the entire rotunda of City Hall with bright teal and pink Persian rugs, completely transforming the space. “We draped all the archways on the second floor and first floor with turquoise and rose pink velvet drapes with 12” long gold thread fringe,” he explains. “We hung in waterfall fashion off the grand staircase railings, from top to bottom, thousands of pale pink dendrobiam orchids. Large stone urns on pedestals filled with pastel roses were through the rotunda and a top the staircase. I wanted to channel Ann,” Gatti says. “The colors, patterns and fabrics were a nod to Ann.”

“You know what this rotunda needs? A bunch of Persian rugs and dendrobium orchids,” said no one ever.

When I got engaged, everyone told me to watch out for how much the flowers would run us. And while I’m not positive what our flower total ended up being, I can almost assure you that the “thousands of orchids” hung waterfall-style cost more than our wedding by about ten-fold.

The bridesmaids filed in first, wearing their Maison Martin Margiela Haute Couture by John Galliano dresses. Groomsmen were followed by the flower girls in their butterfly wings. “The whole wedding party looked amazing with the bridesmaids dressed like Vestals in cloudy grey gauze and bias satin, and the flower girls with butterfly wings,” Bowles says. “Ivy looked incredible in all those mirror shards that tinkled as she walked up the steps and the wedding veil embroidered with all those symbols that had so much resonance for her and represented the beloved people in her life. John was involved in every aspect of how the party would look, establishing the hair styles and so on, and the result was incredibly beautiful and poetic.”

A transcript of Ivy’s dress brainstorm session:

Ivy: I want to walk down the aisle covered in shards of fucking glass.

Dress Designer: Are you sure? Breaking mirrors is normally considered to be bad lu—

Ivy: I SAID I want to walk down the aisle covered in shards of fucking glass.

Dress Designer: Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Ms. Getty. We’ll have our servants start shattering mirrors immediately.

Guests were asked to mask up before Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi entered the room and took her position at the microphone. The groom proceeded to recite vows he’d written himself: “Faith in us has changed my world, captured my heart and tamed my soul. Your belief in me and in us has been the biggest gift of my life,” he said. “I treasure it every day. My love for you is an intrinsic part of me. This day symbolizes a new beginning of our journey together. I think of you, happy to know I am yours and you are mine.”

I know there are a lot of details here that I could harp on but I simply can’t get beyond the fact that they were so cocky that they had Nancy Pelosi run the ship. If Pelosi was the one conducting the ceremony, you have to imagine there were some other big-wigs in the crowd just getting overly annoyed they’re there.

No word on whether or not they were checking vax cards at the door or taking cell phones away. Something tells me the Prince of Monaco didn’t have his card nestled nicely into his $50,000 tuxedo.

Music composed by Gordon Getty was performed, then best man Frederic Trohler and Ivy’s rescue Chihuahua mix, Blue, supplied the rings at the request of Speaker Pelosi. The couple was pronounced husband and wife. They embraced to kiss, and somewhere amid all of the excitement Ivy’s crown toppled off. Within seconds, Raffaele Ilardo on Galliano's team was up on stage to recreate her look. Queue Myra, the singer known for her hit in The Princess Diaries—she started playing “Miracles Happen” from the balcony, and the bridal party, led by actress Anya Taylor-Joy, broke into dance. It was a surreal moment that could well have taken place in Genovia.

Okay, three things here.

1. When Ivy got final say on this article, you know it just said “Ivy’s Chihuahua mix” and she made them put in “rescue” so she wouldn’t get shit on. Unfortunately for Ivy, I see right through it.

2. When her crown fell off, a butterfly flower girl lost its wings. No, but seriously, she probably got so mad behind the scenes that she sacrificed someone.

3. This just goes to show you that money can’t buy class, but it can buy you a flash mob led by the star of Queen’s Gambit.

“San Francisco’s City Hall is designed to inspire awe—a symbol of the city’s power and resilience after the devastating 1906 earthquake and fire, with its white marble detailing and soaring dome that looms more than 300 feet overhead,” Hamish notes. “But despite the architectural magnificence—and the panoply of state, with Nancy Pelosi officiating and Governor Newsom and Mayor Breed in attendance—the ceremony managed to feel extraordinarily intimate and personal, with Tobias’s charming vows and his passionate kiss that dislodged Ivy’s crown!”

Did Hamish really just diminish the significance of an earthquake that killed 3,000 people in favor of saying Ivy’s wedding was so magical that it felt intimate and personal? I want to be surprised here but we’re so far beyond the point of surprise that I’m somehow only expecting worse to come in the upcoming paragraphs.

Guests then piled into black cars and shuttles headed for the Getty Mansion. A Latin band and the Pena Pachamama dancers took over one room, there were bars and buffets tucked away throughout, and a rose garden was erected for the DJ dance party.

Something tells me these “black cars” weren’t just Uber Blacks. These were double-reinforced secret service vehicles created to shield guests from COVID-19 and air breathed by the ever-growing homeless population that’s plaguing the city.

The bride wore a second couture look by Maison Margiela with a draped aquamarine choker that worked perfectly with the raw edge neckline of the gown for the reception. “Ivy’s reception dress was exquisite,” Bowles notes. “Like a tattered Madame Vionnet gown in wisps of delicately embroidered pale pink chiffon and tulle, it was like a breath and moved so beautifully for the first dance.”

At least the dress was like a breath because something tells me that this dress was so altered and tailored to Ivy that she went without breathing the entire night. No word on whether or not their first dance was “Uptown Funk” as performed by Mark Ronson, but I can almost bet my life on that being on Ivy’s “Do Not Play” list because it was too cheugy.

As guests mingled from room to room sampling various buffets, there were moments—like when the couple cut the cake, toasted their guests, expressing how grateful they are and remembering those loved ones who are no longer with us—that felt like a typical family wedding at home, complete with eccentric cousins and all. But then one remembered the setting and its significance: Ann and Gordon Getty amassed a museum-quality collection of European antiques, Venetian paintings, French textiles, and Russian chandeliers over the years.

The subtle cockiness of “buffets” (plural) instead of “buffet” tells me that this was quite the scene. If each table didn’t have a seafood tower with gold-plated lobster tails that would make even Salt Bae blush, I’ll be let down.

Rooms are covered in gold-framed Impressionist paintings by artists like Matisse, Degas, and Cassatte, to name a few, and decorative pillows made from Lyon silks and embroidered Chinese brocades are strewn across deep sofas. So while Bon Jovi’s wedding ballad “Living on a Prayer” was played, at this wedding, the bride was jumping up and down with John Galliano on the dance floor while guests chanted “Woah, we’re halfway there!” It felt opulent and fun, elegant but also wild.

I fucking hate this paragraph so much. If it’s not bad enough that Mattise and Degas’s works probably weren’t appreciated until after their deaths, they’re absolutely rolling in their graves imagining some oil heiress dancing with a high-end fashion designer to Bon Jovi in front of them.

“It was exciting to see the collision of rather grand San Francisco society and all the couple’s contemporaries—beautiful, free spirited rebels being their authentic selves in that amazingly operatic setting,” Bowles says. “They were all astoundingly charming and engaged and engaging. It gave one hope for the future! The party ended at around 1:00 in the morning, but as the ceremony had been so much earlier it seemed far later. The intrepid headed off to the penthouse at the Fairmont.”

Narrator: “But, in fact, all hope for the future was lost after this wedding. Where we thought the pandemic would stop the global elite from frivolously flaunting their wealth on pointless things such as dresses and weddings, this reception did anything but.”

“It’s just like everything I could have dreamed of and more,” Getty says. “So it’s wild when something so magical comes true because you’ve thought about it but didn’t actually think it would.” Miracles happen.

And by “miracles,” they actually mean “grandpa’s generational wealth.” Fucking hell.

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Enjoy this? Well, there’s probably going to be more written content, product releases, and early access to things on this Substack very soon. Subscribe if you feel so inclined.