The Wedding Planner
Posted by Vikki in November's MagazineVikki starts the column as a Graves and returns next month as a…well, wait and see.
One of the best things about writing for The Leither is that my esteemed editor allows me to wax lyrical on any subject of my choosing. However this can be both a blessing and a curse if at the time of writing, your thoughts are dominated by other things; things which are so mundane as to be unprintable. Or so I thought.
Although I would never claim a reputation for searing political critique, most of the time I would say I take a healthy interest in current affairs. This month, however, it’s more about currant affairs – my wedding cake is finished and I am forced to rely heavily on obvious puns to hit my word count.
Regular readers of my mutterings may remember me mentioning my impending nuptials, and by the time you read this, (if you read this,) I will have renounced both my surname and my singledom. Just a few short months ago in this very publication, I navigated the social etiquette of weddings like a smart-arse, now I’m hoping that my own wedding guests will be able to do it whilst keeping their witty comments to themselves.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am ridiculously excited about my wedding. I can’t wait to totter down the aisle beside my dear old dad and I can’t wait to see the look on my fiancé’s face when he sees my larger than life, fairy princess, meringue of a dress which, despite my protestations to the contrary, I don’t think I’m going to be able to bring myself to put on eBay. I’m not one of those girls who has dreamed of her wedding day since primary school, but the helpless romantic in me does believe these are moments you can’t buy.
It’s not these priceless and unforgettable photo opportunities that dominate my every waking thought though. No, it’s the parts of a wedding you can buy that never seem to end. I’m certainly not averse to shopping, but there are limits, or at least, I’m starting to think there should be. As I write, I am simultaneously attempting to source a very particular style of wire photo holder with a clear plastic base and liaise with the mother of the bride regarding table decorations. Perhaps I should have realised it would be like this when I was gifted a book entitled ‘Wedding Details’, but this is a level of detail way beyond my expectations.
Not long after her wedding, a good friend told me that if she could do the whole thing again she’d go for a couple of ales and some cheese and pickle sandwiches down the pub. At the time I thought that was what I’d do simply as a matter of course, but I realise now how easy it is to get swept up in a grand sense of occasion. It really is amazing how quickly sandwiches become an artisan cheeseboard and how the transition from local ale and peanuts to sparkling wine and canapés happens so smoothly.
The need for everything to be ‘just so’ seems to have snuck up on me unannounced. On the one hand I am aware that the world will not end due to a wonky label on a miniature jar of homemade chutney, but on the other, I wonder if the guest whose sticker has not been applied parallel to the lid of the container might take it as some sort of slight.
The throwaway nature of it all is somewhat baffling. Like the table decorations – hundreds of pounds for some almost dead plants stuck in a bit of green sponge which are liable to meet a sorry end if placed too close to a tea light. It would seem however, and this is real-time wedding planning folks, that even my florally minded mother agrees this might not be worth it.
There have been points in this whole process when I’ve wondered if my betrothed and I are going to make it out of our wedding alive, let alone actually married. And I must confess there is a not insignificant part of me that is mostly looking forward to relaxing after the big day among the spoils of her John Lewis gift list. But a big day it is and a big day it shall be. I’m not planning on doing it again so I shall have cakes, canapés, dresses and decorations (mini cacti, by the way) cheaper, and my mum can take them home. The lot.
And so the next time I grace these pages I hope to have not only a brand new name but also a wealth of new, previously undiscovered material. I cannot promise politics but you can rest assured it will most definitely be totally wedding-free.