Relationships

The Eight Goopiest Facts About Gwyneth Paltrow’s Wedding to Brad Falchuk

So many figs.

Gwyneth Paltrow, Brad Falchuk
Photo illustration by Slate. Photos by Ian Gavan/Getty Images and Rachel Murray/Getty Images.

Gwyneth Paltrow and Brad Falchuk consciously coupled before God and their loved ones in a ceremony in the Hamptons five weeks ago, and blessed the rest of us with a photo slideshow on Friday morning.

#TheFaltrows celebrated their nuptials in what might as well have been a Goop pop-up shop: swaths of textiles in tasteful neutrals, meticulously mussed arrangements of flowers and food, elements of outrageous luxury packaged to look homespun and carefree. Here are the eight Goopiest facts about the Faltrow wedding, as chronicled on Goop.com:

1. “Seventy guests descended on Amagansett,” Goop declared. When the Faltrow family (both biological and chosen!) visits a town, they don’t arrive; they descend, as if from a balcony overlooking an ancestral estate, or maybe a cloud. An even number of guests was imperative for the Faltrow nuptials, both for the seating arrangement (two long communal tables) and the dessert situation (45 “personalized carrot cakes,” Paltrow’s favorite, and 45 little chocolate and vanilla cakes, Falchuk’s choice).

2. The tablescapes at the rehearsal dinner were collections of what looked like wildflowers and weeds, plus some artfully placed blackberries and halved figs. The figs were perfectly ripe and unbruised. I like to imagine one of the gaucher guests, maybe someone’s plus-one, munching on the fruits after their third gin-and-thyme cocktail. Otherwise, what a waste of good figs!

3. You know what wasn’t wasted? The floral arrangements at the main event, described on Goop as “a riot of flowers”—otherwise known as a black bloc of dahlias—which were later donated to “local hospitals and medical centers.” This strikes me as something that feels better to do than the good it actually does, but you know what, I bet those dahlias smelled incredible. The flowers and greenery at the Faltrow wedding almost certainly cost several thousand dollars, if they weren’t donated by the vendors in exchange for shoutouts on the Goop site. Donating pricey flower arrangements to sick people, some of whom are probably going broke with medical expenses, is a little “let them eat cake” for my taste. Anyway, a nice gesture!

4. In addition to a nice bottle of Belvedere vodka on the martini cart (“courtesy of Restoration Hardware”), there was a big handle of down-home Tito’s. Why? It’s gluten-free! No grain brain here!

5. Guests might not have noticed, but every damn thing at #TheFaltrows party was a little ad for Goop. The throws and pillows in the rehearsal-dinner lounge area? Sold by Goop. The “cast-iron oval cocottes” keeping the “ash-cooked butternut squash” warm? Find them at Goop! The linen aprons worn by catering staff? Not sold on Goop, but other home textiles by the same company are sold on Goop! The site even published the recipe for the scampi tortellini served at dinner as special post-wedding content. The entire event was planned as an affiliate showroom designed to bring in money when the photos went up. And a bunch of the stuff Goop doesn’t sell—like the ring-bearer pillows, which get their own line in the credits—still gets called out with a brand name. Late Capitalism x Love.

6. Three separate party companies had to team up for the “dinner tent.”

7. The Goop slideshow describes Paltrow’s Valentino Haute Couture gown as “a dress that defies adjectives.” Really? Not a single adjective applies? The English language has not yet matured to the level of this white lace gown? The more likely explanation: Paltrow, who very plausibly got veto power on every word in the post, shot down five or more descriptors that just didn’t seem superlative enough.

8. A chef from Santiago, Chile, was flown in to absolutely ruin the lawn of the Amagansett, New York, venue with a gigantic fire pit, over which he grilled and smoked shorn pineapples for 12 hours apiece. The Goop post says a 12-hour grilled pineapple gets “so tender you can eat it down to the core.” I’m not even mad about the carbon footprint of flying a Chilean chef to the Hamptons for a single meal—that pineapple sounds so dope.