"The Sports section for women"

OK, I don't really believe that. (It's a Sex & The City quote.) But the Sunday Styles section of the New York Times is my go-to Sunday night activity. I wait for it all day--I read the A section in the morning, poke through Business and Week in Review in the afternoon, and get ready for bed before I let myself open Sunday Styles. And its trademark is the wedding announcements.

When I first started subscribing to the Sunday Times, for two weeks in a row I recognized people in the wedding section. It got me addicted. I felt like I knew members of society, which, of course, is who traditionally gets their announcement put in the paper. I can't find it now, but a couple of years ago there was a widely-circulated e mail that allowed you to calculate your chances of getting in. Ivy League education: +2. Father a CEO: +3. You get the idea.

My favorite part of the announcements is seeing everyone's job titles, how those titles compare to their parents', and the ages at which they choose to marry. The lawyers who met in law school all settle down at 28, and are usually set to start at a new firm next month. (It's actually incredibly common to see people between jobs, or just about to start a new one. That same Sex & The City episode accused all the women in the pages as listing their occupations beginning with the phrase, "Until last month...," as though they no longer needed to work. Maybe it's a recessionary sign that we don't see that anymore? Or maybe business is the new aristocracy, and the Times chooses to run only the announcements that might result in ad dollars later down the road? Either way, it seems like people take time off for their wedding.) I also really like the May-December relationships, whose announcements almost always conclude with, "The bridegroom's previous marriage ended in divorce." I REALLY love the December-December relationships, which often end with something along the lines of, "The bride is a widow; the bridegroom is twice a widower." Hope springs eternal.

The babyfaced announcements get me, too. I think if you're 26 or under, you're just going to look like a kid on the page. (Note: For one more week, I'm 27. I try to keep that in mind while reading these.) Yesterday's announcements featured a couple, both 26, who met in eighth-grade Spanish class at Fox Lane Middle School in Bedford.

There's also the strange matter of how people whose families are similarly rich (or at least well-known) end up meeting each other and falling in love. On Saturday, the great-great granddaughter of the founder of the Chrysler Corporation married the great-grandson of the former chairman of Standard Oil. What are the chances? It doesn't say here that they met at a debutante ball...and her dad works at a bank and her mom, in real estate. Doesn't seem like they ran into each other at a society party or anything. Do you bond over old money?

And while I think that's weird, the New York Times obviously doesn't think so...nor does most of its readership. I know that, because there have been two new trends of note in Celebrations. The first began, I think, when, in June, the Times chose to profile a couple who had met at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. They'd both messed up their lives pretty badly, but helped each other through drug addiction and got married. (Here's the story.)

Apparently the Times was flooded with letters from people both angry that the paper seemed to be condoning the couple's past behavior, as well as from people who applauded including people who weren't bluebloods in the hallowed pages. Maybe I'm just more alert to it now, but when I see things like yesterday's announcement that included the bride's mother's career as a manicurist in Las Vegas, I think back to that column.

The other trend is doormen. It's hot to marry your doorman. I'm not sure the Times knew this when they wrote, "Few people marry their first crush. Fewer still marry their doorman."

A month later, we have our second woman-marrying-her-doorman story. (In both cases, the women were doing some heavy chasing. Really, read that link. I'd be embarrassed to tell that story to the Times.)

So, democracy or not? Who cares? As long as people get married in Bird-in-Hand, PA, or Croton-on-Hudson, NY, or tell stories about carving a proposal into a pumpkin, or freely admit that it took them a long time to feel attracted to their fiancee, we can't really worry that the Times remains TOO blue-blooded.