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It is two days before the wedding, and Plum is hugely calm. A shoe crisis has been averted: I've delivered white satin Manolos from New York. We sit amid perfectly aged chintz in Plum's suite at Middlethorpe Hall, a historic-house hotel in North Yorkshire. Sun streams in through giant paned windows looking across green lawns dotted with bunnies. Around Plum are seating charts dotted with Post-its.
We have a broken-toed bride. Five days ago, she'd stubbed it in the kitchen in an excited bridal moment. The Blahniks are backup, she explains: Alexander McQueen has made her a low-cut court shoe in white paper taffeta covered in net and embroidered with vintage ...