When it comes to weddings, I Do! But I also Don’t. And by that I mean, I DO want to marry my husband-to-be more than anything, and was a blubbering, teary, loveable mess when he proposed over take-out breakfast from Whole Foods. I DON’T have any interest in looking for flowers, booking a photographer, picking bridesmaids or their dresses, finding a band, decorating tables—basically anything that goes along with planning the greatest day of one’s life. You know that bridal gene that most females discover around age five when they see Wedding Barbie in her taffeta wonderland? I never had that. While most girls in their adolescence were planning their weddings and tearing out pages from the wedding section of the Macy’s catalog, I was listening to Queen and riding in a neighborhood bike gang. I wasn’t a tomboy, but I also never had that perfect picture of a wedding tucked away in a pink satin box in my hope chest.
Yet, despite all my resistance, I’ve been able to put together a wedding that doesn’t look like the cover of Hampton’s Bride Magazine. Fear not, ladies. For those of you that want to have a stylish, personal wedding, but don’t want to plan, overspend, or engage with anyone in the wicked wedding industry, there is hope for you.
I’ve already been married once. At age seven I informed a boy a year younger (whom my mother babysat for) that I was ready to be married the very next day, and to please wear something nice when he showed up. We had the ceremony at noon—so my father could escort me over his lunch hour—and my mother served as the officiant. I wore vintage: my mother’s lacy slip over a pink ballet leotard, a veil made of tulle left over from her craft project and clear jelly shoes. A vision of a child-bride. After the ceremony we danced to Annie’s Song by John Denver and dined on PB&J finger sandwiches. I must say, it was the event of the seven year-old social circle. We weren’t married more than a week, when a new addition to afternoon kindergarten caught my eye. It wouldn’t have worked anyway. He wasn’t into Neil Diamond or Scooby Doo or anything I held dear. Since then I’ve had no inclination toward being a bride. Was that the pinnacle of my bridal career?
In high-school and college, I was never able to engage in talks about “dream” weddings. And even through the seven years my main man and I dated before getting engaged, my mind didn’t wander into “what if” land every time I passed a bridal boutique. I thought the idea of paying thousands of dollars for a cake was absurd. Whenever I saw cascading bouquets of perfectly placed flowers, I always wondered why they didn’t just pick some that day and save the big bills. Frankly, I never thought anything was wrong with me until four months into our engagement when friends were astonished that I hadn’t begun looking for wedding dresses. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE fashion, and a wedding dress is the pinnacle of fashion for a lady. But, the thought of going to a bridal boutique left me feeling like I just came down from a sugar high. The hubby-to-be was in the same boat. We both knew we wanted to have a wedding—duh, he proposed, I said yes—but neither of us were interested in dealing with anyone in the wedding industry. I tried buying bride magazines, thinking this would pique my interest, but I just ended up making fun of the brides and loathing the industry even more.
Bribing me with a free lunch and drugging me with champagne, my best friend took me to the dress shop where she purchased her wedding gown. I gave the woman working at the boutique a list of things I did not want on or near my dress and challenged her to bring me something that met my qualifications. She said she had just the dress. Yeah, right. Aren’t they paid to say that? Lo and behold, she appeared with a dress that took my breath away. I tried it on and cried in delight at the woman I saw in the mirror. Who the hell was that knock-out? It was the most fantastic dress I had ever worn. I knew right then, it was my dress.
