If ever you are waltzing through Tower Grove Park on a Saturday afternoon, you may happen upon a curious vision. As you walk amid the flora, fauna and din of parties and picnics, soundtracked by the soulful bleating of car stereos -- hark!, what white through yonder limos breaks? It's a wedding-photo shoot ... no, two ... now four ... now five. Although it may seem that you've stumbled upon the set of some Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, you're not hallucinating. Every Saturday, weather permitting, the faux ruins of Tower Grove are transformed into a Milan of matrimony, and the outdoor runway's filled with a line of ladies sporting all the styles, from the traditional Cinderella gown to more vogue interpretations of the virginal vestige. Cameras flick faster than Bics at a Pink Floyd concert as brides traipse from archway to weeping willow in a gentle procession, each the queen of her own personal prom -- a prom at which the men still tug at their tuxedos and steal away in shifts to liberate more liquor from the limo. She, the bride, accessorizes with a cluster of coordinating maids, dutifully pursuing in elegant formation, their long dresses camouflaging secret flexing in anticipation of the bouquet toss.