THE torch singer Andrea Marcovicci, whose four-month engagement in the Oak Room at the Algonquin Hotel ended last weekend, describes herself as a "feminist hopeless romantic."
She never expected to marry, merely to have her heart broken often, as happens to most of the men and women she sings about. Then, four years ago, she met Daniel Reichert, an actor.
"In my shows, I've always talked about how love songs from the past caused us a lot of anguish," she said recently while sipping Sherry in the lobby of the Algonquin. "They taught us to expect to feel love too fast, suddenly, across a crowded room. Yet, I'm almost embarrassed to say that when I fell in love with Dan, it happened instantly. I honestly felt it was in some way preordained. It was done ."
For Mr. Reichert, who described himself as an optimist about romance, it was also love at first sight. "As soon as I saw her, before I even heard her speak," he recalled, "I said to myself, 'I could marry that girl.' "
The bridegroom often attends Ms. Marcovicci's performances. "There's some element of safety in her shows that enables you to feel brave enough to open up your heart," he said. "And I think we are both approaching marriage that way, with open hearts."
On Monday night, while 80 guests watched, they were married at the St. Regis Hotel in the Versailles Room, the recently restored 1904 ballroom where, as one guest put it, "you can feel the old ghosts."
The Rev. Michael Zeman, a United Church of Christ minister who is also a psychoanalyst, performed the ceremony. Beforehand, the bride said, "I spent so much time in my life plumbing the mysteries of the broken heart, it seems poetic justice in some way to be married by a psychoanalyst."
Like Ms. Marcovicci's shows, the wedding evoked an era when waltzing, poetry and the Stork Club were hugely popular. The bridegroom wore white tie and dark heavy tails made in Berlin in 1938. The bride appeared in a 1917 pink and black silk satin dress that her mother found at an auction. Covered with tiny beads, rhinestones, crystals and pearls, it clinked lightly as she walked, like ice in a glass.
While a few guests took photographs at the reception, no picture taking was allowed during the ceremony. "For me, cameras create the smallest tinge of unreality," Ms. Marcovicci said. "It's hard to fully experience the reality of the moment, which is the one thing you want to do when you're making such a magical step. Memory will be fine."
During dinner, Vince Giordano and the Nighthawks played songs like "Long Ago and Far Away," by Jerome Kern, her favorite composer. Enid Futterman, a lyricist and a bridal attendant, said the music reminded her of "the kinder, gentler New York" that existed before World War II, a time that she and Ms. Marcovicci did not live through, but long for. "We miss it, so we keep trying to conjure it up in one way or another," Ms. Futterman said.
David Staller, a tall sandy blond who sings torch from a male point of view and is currently appearing at the Algonquin, said, "What's fun about this whole event is it's such a happy-making experience for Andrea, and she's built her career on singing about her misery."
Many guests wondered what Ms. Marcovicci would sing about in the future. Married life? Another attendant, Jane Lancellotti, who wore a black velvet Norma Kamali dress and gardenias in her hair, said, "Now, she'll sing about being afraid of losing the love you've found."
By Lois Smith Brady
Published: February 07, 1993
daughter Alice Wolf Reichert on August 17, 1995.