This is the season for bridal magazines. At last count, rushing to the biggest magazine stand at the airport to make my much-anticipated purchase, there were five or six top choose from. Big, glossy, glamorous, eye-catching—and missing out on a huge market of potential purchasers.
Boomer moms. Not that boomer moms are getting married in vast numbers (although many women 42+ are, although you’d never guess it from the fresh dew on the 15-somethingish brides that grace the pages…) But because the magazine industry apparently has not yet figured out that this generation of moms are entwined with their adult childrens’ lives more so than in generations past.
In the new Diane Keaton film “Because I Said So”, even the trailer gets it more right. One of the adult daughters accuses the character played by Diane of being “a helicopter mom…” Why? Because she’s always hovering.
I thought of this over the holidays, when our family went to visit my new in-laws-to-be house in St. Thomas for the first time. On the coffee table were a variety of bridal magazines. It was also the first time I heard the phrase: MOB. That means “mother of bride”, for the uninitiated. I admit there was some squealing—some of delight, some of laughter—as the two moms flipped through the pages of bridal gowns, ranging from sleek and elegant to, feathers flapping, about to catch up with the rest of the flock.
It was also the first time I realized what I was: a MOG…Mother of the Groom. Winning a title while being the mother of the groom is something new. In the past, the mom of the groom was supposed to be marginalized from the whole son’s wedding thing…left out in the hallway unsure which table she’ll be seated at, huddling in shadowy corners with a few close friends. But here we were, MOG and MOB--one happy family. Yes, I’m a MOG, involved and excited—as any boomer MOG in good standing would be—and I couldn’t wait to purchase copies of the magazines for myself.
And I would have. Really. All I asked for was one, okay, maybe two, photos of appropriately-attired MOGS in any one of the magazines. Or of a MOB, for that matter. I want to be involved. I want to be appropriate. I want to be stylish. But alas, not a one was to be found.
Don’t get me wrong. We love our sons and daughters. And we understand that it’s the bride’s day. It makes sense to have lots and lots of photos of beautiful, young women looking glamorous: their moment arrived.
But what the bridal magazines don’t understand yet is that in our own special, helicopterish way, it’s the MOG’s and MOB’s day, too. Just one picture—and any one of those glamorous, highly competitive magazines—could have doubled their sales.
Carol Orsborn