This Saturday is consummated in Mérida, Yucatán, what, if it were not for love, could be defined as a “free trade agreement” between the Aznar-Botella lineage and one of the most succulent fortunes of that Mexico that claims to love us the most. Alonso Aznar, that youngest son who has made an art of his discretion—perhaps more out of necessity than virtue—marries Renata Collado, an heiress who mixes in her DNA the power of the Chedraui supermarkets with the refined ancestry of the Aztec jet-set.
While in the henequen plantations the pre-Columbian laborers work the land under an implacable sun, in the Sac Chich hacienda, with prohibitively expensive rooms, the globalized high society fan themselves with a breeze of privilege. They say it will be an “intimate and discreet” ceremony, like someone trying to disguise a vanity parade with the mantle of sobriety. The phrase “Aznar and Botella marry their son well” inevitably resonates, although this time, the son of the former mayor and the iron knight of the PP have preferred the exoticism of Mérida to the solemn pageantry of El Escorial. It seems that austerity in clothing—those fabrics made with the moral rigor of Ana Botella—has stayed in Madrid, because no one marries a Collado de Cima without a dose of calculated spectacularity.
Compare this Mexican wedding with that of Ana Aznar and Alejandro Agag in 2002 It is not only inevitable, but necessary to gauge the true historical weight of these nuptials. But we already did that. Ana’s wedding was an imperial vaudeville, a cross between a Bourbon coronation and a gathering of friends of Correa and El Bigotes. It was organized in El Escorial as if the very spirit of Philip II had demanded it, with a thousand guests, haute couture outfits and a list of defendants who years later would go on to open news programs and decorate newspaper covers that not even Aldama and Ábalos did together in Las Ventas. It was an event where even the waiters had to pass a test of political trust, because in the VIP meantime, well-served champagne was a matter of state.
Today, however, Mérida offers a more tropical, almost exotic, but no less ambitious backdrop. If at Ana’s wedding the speeches spoke of greatness, here the message seems to be balance: Alonso, the boy who grew up in La Moncloa learning to manage invisibility, is paired with Renata, a celebrity with ecological awareness and a bank account that could finance the energy transition of an entire continent.
One can’t help but wonder if we are just facing a great love story or also a strategic move. Alonso, with his resume of relationships and contacts, his last name, his family support and his financial consultant card, his residence in Miami and his ability to create apps with more enthusiasm than success, does not seem to have sought money but love. And vice versa. But money helps. The money has found him, wrapped in the figure of Renata. She, for her part, brings something more than wealth: her cosmopolitanism and her activist agenda seem designed to complement the profile of an Aznar who has been fleeing the media spotlight all his life.
If we think about it, this marriage is a perfect mirror of the 21st century: on the one hand, globalized glamour, photos for Vogue and getaways to Tulum; on the other, the social commitment that whitens any excess. Because it’s not just about collecting fortunes; It’s about telling a story that seems aesthetic and believable.
So there you have it: José María and Ana, those figures who decades ago decided to embody conservative Spain, Now they smile between cactus and tequila for 5,000 pesos a bottle (Don Julio 1942), while they marry the youngest of the family. There are no Hieronymite monks or ministers of Opus Dei, but make no mistake: power dresses in many ways, and today it does so with a linen guayabera and Mexican emerald jewelry. This Alonso in love may have inherited his father’s pragmatism and his mother’s obsession with vulture funds and order, but his true triumph is in having found someone who allows him to navigate and at the same time enjoy his infatuation but, between luxury and sustainability, without anyone even wondering if their marriage would be possible if the beloved were a humble woman, or if Renata would be so fascinated if her beloved husband were not the youngest of a historical saga that inhabited the palace of La Moncloa for being his father’s son. The godmother of this wedding, let us not forget, succeeded Carlos III (that is to say), being the first mayor of Madrid. We opt, when in doubt, for pure and unconditional love, not for a highly social engineering operation. As to The wedding will be remembered for what it was not: it is not El Escorial, it is not the Gürtel, It’s not the past. It is the future, the one that is built based on family alliances and now also with filters and dream photographs on Instagram. Because in the end, in Mérida or Madrid, everything remains in the family. And boy does it look good. Today we must wish for happiness and eternal love. Long live the couples! (And come on!)
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