The Fella and I haven’t even started planning our wedding yet, and already I’m overwhelmed. It’s daunting to skim the various sources of “offbeat” and “indie” wedding-planning advice; even these pared-down weddings are lavish with frills and fanciness that we simply don’t want.
The more a couple strays from the conventions of planning, the more actual planning it requires: so many decisions! If we wanted a cookie-cutter wedding, with white satin and matching attendants and linen tablecloths and custom-colored M&Ms, planning would be much simpler. The Wedding Industrial Complex provides scores of checklists for such events.
Of course, some wedding parties spiral into madness. “You don’t know who’s crazier, the people who ask or the people who actually go along with it.” The linked article describes the absurdities imposed upon unwitting bridesmaids, who think they’ve signed up to offer loving support and the occasional shopping trip but instead find themselves burdened with lime green satin, Botox, and a taxing regiment of facials and pedicures, to say nothing of expensive travel.
On the flipside is K, who will be standing up with me at my wedding*. She expressed some concern upon hearing that I won’t dictate her attire. She wants some structure and ritual and a prescribed dress code. But I don’t even know what I’m wearing.
I assured her that with her great wardrobe and great taste, I’m certain whatever she chooses will be perfect, whether it’s something from her closet or something fabulous she wants an excuse to buy. I asked her, “Did you really think I’d assign you a taffeta dress with a big bow on the butt?”
K. shot back, “Dear, I will wear a clown suit if that’s what you want.”
A clown suit, you say?
That’s one thing decided, anyway.
* Elli and I decided that the Best Woman duties — hand holding, shoe shopping, smacking me lightly when I become unbearable — would be too difficult at this distance. Instead, she’s The Wedding Muse: she listens to my ideas and whining, tells me when the ideas are crazy (and, so far, stays mum about the whining), and has the twin luxuries of liberal eye-rolling and audible scoffing with no fear of getting caught. And honestly… I’m not sure she’d love the clown suit.