Two Weddings, One Song
Both of us danced to the same song at our weddings, Fraulein! This is the story behind the company name. With wedding season in full swing, it felt like the right time to tell the whole thing.
Charles
Our dad's name was Charles. He loved one song more than any other, "Fraulein," recorded by Bobby Helms in 1957. He would always sing it to us around the campfire.
We lost him when we were teenagers. But every time "Fraulein" plays, he's right there and it ALWAYS makes us smile.
Margaret's wedding — Johnathan's family ranch, Bulverde
We met in college through mutual friends — the old-fashioned way, before cell phones and Instagram, back when you actually had to show up somewhere to fall in love. Thank God for that. I was at UT Austin. Johnathan was at Texas Tech in Lubbock. I was wearing a Mexican dress the night we met. Johnathan was about to head to Idaho to take a clinic with Ray Hunt — the real horse whisperer. In retrospect, that tells you everything you need to know about who he is.
Our first kiss happened on a walk — Johnathan's beloved dog Cotton at our side, as it turned out, for he very beginning of everything.
Like a lot of love stories worth telling, ours had a detour. We broke up. Long distance is hard, and Johnathan still had a year of college, and I was moving to San Francisco.
In San Francisco, I moved in with my dear friend Brooke — who happened to be from San Antonio. Johnathan's hometown. Every time Brooke went home she'd come back with the same line: "Johnny asked about you." And every time I said: "Did you give him my number?"
Eventually the universe — and Brooke — got the message. Then one day a package arrived: a mix ape labeled MF Country. Johnathan's sister Hillary assumed MF stood for something else entirely. It did not. It stood for Margaret Fortinberry — my maiden name. A love letter hiding in plain sight.
Shortly after, we made the kind of decision that either makes or breaks a couple: we packed our bags and backpacked around the world for six months. Europe. Turkey. India. Thailand. Vietnam. Hong Kong. And home.
Johnathan is not the best map reader in the world. But he is an exceptional driver. We figured out our lanes — literally and figuratively — somewhere between Istanbul and Bangkok, and we came home knowing exactly who we were together.
After our travels, I moved to the ranch. We set up our life in the carriage house on the property — small, simple, completely ours. We knew the proposal was coming. We just didn't know when.One morning, he brought me tea in bed.
He happened to be on one knee when he handed it to me. Best wake-up call I have ever had.
We were married on April 15th, 2000. The wedding was at Jonathan's family ranch in Bulverde, Poco a Poco.
At their rehearsal, Johnathan’s dog, Cotton, followed him up and down the aisle (and really where-ever he would go) so they decided to put some daises on her collar and let her be in the wedding. Fraulein girls love Daisies (our first boot design).
I wore Reem Acra, with daisies on the bodice. My uncle, former Governor of Texas Mark White, walked me down the aisle. Four hundred guests, black tie, under a Texas sky.
As we exchanged our vows, the deer came out to graze in the field behind us. Light balls hung in the oak trees. Blue and yellow — daffodils and hydrangeas. A pecan shell walkway wound from the marriage field to the reception. A marimba band played as four hundred people celebrated under the stars.The most beautiful night of my life.
For the first song, the plan was to play "Fraulein," but we couldn’t find the CD – yep – that’s how old we are. So Hillary, Johnathan’s sister and musical talent.. picked Willie Nelson’s “I love you all over the world.” The couple had backpacked around the world for 6 months prior to their engagement (good way to determine if you love someone). So in imperfectionist style they started dancing to that, THEN someone found the right CD and record scratch.. then they rolled with Fraulein. There was like a 80% chance of rain that night and zero % chance of getting a tent. We rolled the dice and someone said put an open bottle of gin out to stop the rain – I think it traps the “spirits” in the bottle or some odd folklore. It worked and not a drop of rain until the car drove them off the property.
Sarah's wedding — The Gage Hotel, Marathon
Will and I met in a real estate class. We sat next to each other for a whole week. Nice guy, I thought. But we were both dating other people, and that was that. I tucked him neatly into the category of perfectly pleasant humans I will never think about again and went on with my life.
A couple of years later, I was standing on the porch at Shorty's — the best little dive bar in Texas — with a guy I was dating at the time, when Will appeared. He had recently broken up with his girlfriend and was there with a group of guys. Rather than take the stairs like a normal person, he hopped the fence onto the porch, walked straight up to me, and said, “Hey. Remember me?” I did.
The guy I was with, bless his heart, read the room and offered to make a beer run. Will looked right at him and said, “Yeah. We’ll take two Dos Equis.”
It was over before it started. Will and I stood on that porch and talked for a while, and eventually he asked where I lived in San Antonio.
Terrell Heights, I said.
I live in Terrell Heights, he said. What street?
Harmon.
I live on Harmon. What block?
The hundred block.
I live on the hundred block. What house?
We had lived five houses down from each other, across the street, for years. The whole time.
When I got back to San Antonio, Will got my number and sent a message: I can see your porch lights are on. Can I stop by?
The guy I’d been dating lived in Austin. He faded out of the picture the way things do when something better comes along and you both quietly know it.
What followed was easy. We’d carry salad bowls back and forth down the street for dinner. At some point, Will decided he was just going to move the whole operation to my place. He carried his mattress on his back down the block while I walked his dog and carried the salad bowl.
The first time Will walked up to my front porch, he said, “Do you live with a dude?”
I said, “No. Why?”
He said, “I don’t know. The javelina mount in the tiara. The deer head in the boa feather…”
Things moved fast. We took a trip to Puerto Vallarta on a vacation deal that came through the fax machine at Will’s office — not exactly the classiest all-inclusive, but we had a blast.
We also went on an incredible fishing trip and caught nine sailfish. On the morning we were due to fly out, Will decided one of those fish needed to be mounted. He paid a guy cash in Mexico. I thought, we are never seeing that fish again.
Three weeks later, the sailfish arrived at his parents’ house. Will stashed it in the garage and said nothing. When I started asking — gently, lovingly, with increasing frequency — about when we might get engaged, he told me: We’ll get engaged when the fish comes in. I thought, oh hell. That fish is never coming. I’m going to have to find one on eBay.
Then, in March, we went back to Port Aransas with another couple. While my girlfriend and I went for a run, Will and his friend went to Shorty's and hung the sailfish on the wall of the porch. The same porch. Where we met.
Before dinner, we all went to Shorties, and Will walked me out to the porch. There’s our fish, he said.
I did not believe him. I told him — with some passion — that this was not funny and he needed to stop messing with me right now. Then he put the ring on the bill of the fish. And the rest is history. Rose, the salty old lady that owned Shorties, handed a plastic rose with a little teddy bear through the window to mark the moment. Pure Class.
When we started talking about the wedding, I wanted to elope. An island, maybe. Something small and far away. Will said: My grandparents will never forgive me. I loved his grandparents. So that was that.
While we were dating, we’d taken a trip to the Gage Hotel in Marathon, Texas — deep in West Texas, the kind of place that feels ancient and cinematic and completely unlike anywhere else on earth. We were watching the Texas/A&M game when I leaned over to Will’s mom and said, almost to myself: If I ever get married, I might get married here.
I think she started worrying about the logistics right then and there. That’s where we got married. And it was perfect.
The rehearsal dinner, thrown by Will’s family, was legendary. Rowdy and warm and full of the people we loved most. Will gave a speech. I hadn’t planned to give one — but after he sat down, I got up, grabbed the mic, and proceeded to pretend I was an Amway rep. Times were tough, I explained. We’d really appreciate everyone purchasing some Tupperware or beauty products this evening. Leadership opportunities were available. There was paperwork under the chairs. I knew I had gone too far when I saw Will’s grandmother looking under her chair. I laughed. Everyone laughed. Except Mommy-Too, who was genuinely checking.
I had a little too much fun that night. The next morning, I woke up not feeling my best — and may or may not have gotten sick in the middle of getting my hair done. But I pulled it together. I put on my boots. And I walked toward the man who carried his mattress down the street for me, who hid a sailfish in his parents’ garage for months, who put a ring on the bill of a fish at the bar where we first met.
The nice thing about getting married somewhere that’s genuinely hard to get to? Only the people who really want to be there show up. That’s everyone you need.
I wore vintage boots for my wedding. I had to hunt for the right pair — Fraulein didn’t exist yet. You don’t have to hunt anymore. The boots Margaret and I make are vintage-inspired, broken-in soft, and comfortable enough to dance in all night.
The kind you keep.
How a song became a company
Years later, when the boot company started taking shape, we could not for the life of us figure out what to name it. Lists and brainstorms galore. Nothing fit. Then one day Margaret was in the car, and Tyler Childers's version of "Fraulein" came on. Lightbulb!! We weren't naming the company anything else. Every pair of boots we make carries our Dad's name across them, whether anyone knows it or not.
What we want every bride to feel
When a gal puts on a pair of Frauleins, we want her to feel the best she has ever felt. We want her stopped on the street. We want her radiating sunshine. First one on the dance floor. Which, when you think about it, is exactly what every bride deserves to feel on her wedding day. Maybe it's the Turquoise San Antonio Rose’s for your something blue. Maybe it's the Cream San Antonio Roses to match your dress. Maybe it's another one of our boots that has a story behind it that only you and your people know. Whichever pair finds her, we hope she feels every bit of it.
Proof in the wild
It's been a wedding year inside the Fraulein family too. Both of our employees, Annie and Winnie, got engaged this past year and both of them happened to be wearing Frauleins when it happened!! Annie got engaged on Thanksgiving in the Roadrunner boots. Winnie got engaged in Austin in the Cactus boots. We had actually all been in Austin together that very day for a photo shoot at Winnie's apartment. She had a feeling something was coming and she was right!
To the brides this season
If you're planning your wedding right now, say yes to the song that means something. Say yes to the people who taught you to love it, whether they're in the room or not. And if a pair of Frauleins ends up under your dress, well. We'll of course be dancing right there with you!
