





Both sides got ready at the Lotte New York Palace. Dean’s morning was cufflinks and a watch handed over in its box, his father helping with one cuff and his mother with the other, groomsmen tying bow ties in front of a mirror, and a card from Anna read on a sofa before anyone else came in.
Anna’s side ran on blush robes and a donut tower under a sign counting down the days. Gifts were opened on a white couch. The dog had his own tuxedo and wore it all morning.
They saw each other for the first time at the Villard Mansion, on the gilded staircase off Madison Avenue. Dean waited at the bottom with his back to the stairs. Anna came down with her train behind her, and they stayed up there a while afterward, which is what that staircase is for.
Portraits happened uptown. They went in through the Vanderbilt Gate, down the allee with the trees closing overhead, and out onto the lawn with the veil laid out behind her. Anna carried white peonies and garden roses. Her gown was off the shoulder, lace over tulle, with a beaded bodice and a lace edged cathedral veil that turns up in almost every frame from that hour.
The bridal party came along for part of it. Bridesmaids in dusty rose, groomsmen in navy, all of it photographing well against the hedges and the ironwork.
The ceremony was set under the big arch upstairs, sheer drapery drawn across the windows, a wall of white flowers where they stood and chiavari chairs running back toward the glass. Candles and greenery lined the full length of the aisle and continued down the staircase outside the room.
Dean came in with both his parents. Anna came in with her father. Guastavino’s does a lot of the work at a ceremony like this one. The tile carries sound without a system fighting it, the arch frames whatever you hang inside it, and the windows behind hold the city while everyone is looking the other way.
The escort cards were black, sealed in gold wax, matching the seal on the invitations. The stationery had run navy and gold from the beginning, with fern stamps on the envelopes and a hand drawn map of the city marking the places that mattered to them.
Florals stayed white the whole way through: peonies, garden roses and hydrangea, including one wall of them built against the stone. A single rose floated in a glass bowl on the escort table. The card box read Mr. and Mrs. Sadik.
Dinner was beets and arugula to start, then pepper crusted filet mignon or a fish course, printed on black menu cards with the couple’s monogram at every seat. The cake ran six tiers of white fondant with sugar flowers spilling down one side and the same monogram piped onto a tier.
The band was a full one with horns, and it kept the floor busy until the end. There were napkins overhead, the groom up on shoulders, a bouquet toss and a garter toss, and churros with dipping sauce brought out late. Guests left with candle favors printed with the couple’s names, and the last frames of the night are the two of them out on East 59th Street with the city still going.
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