As gay marriage booms in California, the wedding industry is pulling out all the stops

This article is from the September issue of Radar Magazine. For a risk-free issue, click here.

Thanks to a California Supreme Court ruling last May, a key moment in the history of American consumerism is unfolding in the Golden State. After decades of discrimination, California's gays and lesbians have finally won the right to max out their AmExes on wedding rings, identical formalwear, and professional videos of themselves laughing spontaneously as they cut a $1,450 Tranquil Bamboo cake.

Gays do love to shop. And though a few bigoted florists and Bible-thumping caterers are turning them away, the state's wedding industry is generally stoked. Empowered lovebirds, no longer restricted by constitutionally protected loathing, are projected to spend $684 million on California nuptials over the next three years. According to Cindy Sproul of the Rainbow Wedding Network, which organized four sold-out trade shows in the state this July (and which receives up to 20 hate e-mails a week), "Many couples walk around the vendors' booths in tears."

It could just be the stress, of course. Rushing to get married before a November 4 ballot initiative that may reverse the ruling, California's same-sex couples still lack one right heterosexuals enjoy: the freedom to squabble leisurely about the merits of coconut cream cake filling versus mocha chocolate chip. Project Marriage, a coalition of religious conservative groups, plans to raise $10 million to push the initiative, while gay rights organizations have vowed to match them "dollar for dollar." (Last week Brad Pitt also lent his support to the ballot's opponents, pledging $100,000 to help fight the initiative.)

While recent polls show that more than 50 percent of Californians oppose Proposition 8, the small but frightening prospect of a marriage rights rollback in November has spurred some gay couples to accelerate their wedding plans.

"There's definitely a sense of urgency," says Tony Lowe, owner of Laguna Beach's JBP, the state's top supplier of custom-designed gay rings, who's seen a 35 percent leap in orders.

"Some guys ask us to reset their mom's showy engagement stone in a chunky setting," he says, while lesbians often demand diamonds set extraflush so their rings don't snag when they shove their hands into their pockets. Bears—a term sometimes applied to chubby, hairy, working-class gays—are clamoring for ursine-themed bands, Lowe says, but can't always afford them. "Bears often have really big fingers," he laments. "And the cost of gold has tripled, so in this economy ...  I feel sorry for my bears."

Altar-bound gays face a unique set of boggling decisions. Should they take advantage of a San Diego realtor's curious offer to pay for their wedding reception if they buy a home? Arrange for empathetic limo service from San Francisco's 1-877-GAY-TAXI? Hire the ardently eco-conscious lesbian wedding planners at Oakland's Here Comes the Pride?

Gay-owned businesses offer a certain sensitivity that counts for a lot, especially when you've just had your fiancé unsubtly described as a "feces-eating faggot" by a protest website, as happened to one Contra Costa County man. Renellie, a Southern California company that happily sells individual cake figurines in same-sex pairings, clearly knows its market. The handcrafted Renellie grooms appear to be no strangers to the gym, while the brides feature delicately detailed don't-fuck-with-me stares. Sales spiked 300 percent in June.