So this sample pack of save the date and invitation products that I ordered arrived today, and the very first thing I noticed was this message printed on the outside: “Marry the look you’ve been dreaming of with the look you can achieve!”

Really? There’s a look I’ve been dreaming of? This is news to me.

It’s fine to have a look, of course. A look is a great idea. The problem I have is with all this breezy wedding marketing copy that assumes engaged women are one and the same, and so we obviously spend all of our spare hours futzing with inspiration boards and lying awake each night debating the relative merits of choosing eggplant or aubergine for our accent color.

Every time I read copy like this, I feel like all of a sudden I’m in one of those 1950s ads in which a woman is smiling thoughtfully at a palette of coordinating fabrics for her new furniture, or at patterns for her new set of china, or at a bright range of color choices for her shiny new matching kitchen appliances. Except instead of 1950 it’s 2010, and instead of domestic products I’m staring at paper samples, or at centerpiece options, or at a variety of bouquets, but the sentiment remains the same — THIS IS THE STUFF OF YOUR DREAMS.

OMFG, towels. Via www.vintageadbrowser.com

This is what marketing does, of course. We all know this. Its talent lies in making us believe what they’re selling is important. And since weddings are one of the last outposts of truly woman-centric marketing — one of the last realms in which men have yet to make an influence, or even an appearance — the selling is confined to what is commonly held that women are interested in. And so we get beaten over the head with wedding marketing that hews to pretty colors and fabrics and baubles, oh my!

Dude, I know what you’re saying. “Wait a minute, I’m a chick, and I kind of like thinking about fabrics, and come to think of it, I sort of like baubles too.” Well, I hear you, man. I have gazed longingly at many a sharp color combination, and don’t tell anybody, but I have also been known to be easily distracted by shiny objects. But that’s not the entire scope of my being. I’m a woman, and I don’t get my rocks off on towels and carpet samples or even tablecloths and candle votives — and in the end I’ve grown to resent being represented in marketing as such. I’m being talked down to, and I don’t like it.

You know what marketing is great at? Pouncing on niches and exploiting them. I have yet to see real evidence of that in the wedding industry. Sure, you look around the internet and think, gosh, there are so many people out here who think differently about things, but I have yet to come across a widely marketed wedding product or service that doesn’t follow the same breathless you-have-been-dreaming-of-this-your-entire-fucking-life song and dance.

For once I’d love to stumble across a piece of marketing that speaks to the way I’m going about wedding planning. “For the bride who doesn’t give a shit!” I’d probably be blown out of the water. I’d probably turn into a gullible, mindless marketing puppet, all a-quiver just like jello. Because this other stuff just isn’t working for me. As far as I can tell, my general wedding approach is “Have the Most Amount of Fun in the Least Amount of Work Possible.” How do I put that into a “look?”

Wait, you know what? I take it back. There is a look I’ve been dreaming of. It’s the long look I’ll take around the room towards the end of the night, and the guys will be getting their “I love you man” lean on, and the girls will be smacking each other on the ass, and my grandmother will be grinning from ear to ear, and we’ll all be riding this crest of unadulterated joy that will carry us through the rest of the festivities and — hopefully — straight through the rest of our lives.

That’s the stuff that my dreams are made of.