Category Archives: indie DIY wedding club

are you there, me? it’s me, me

Dear me,

Your wedding is not a blog post. OK? Got that? I know you already know that, but I think you needed a reminder, because you were seriously having a little meltdown there for a while. Hell, you still are. That’s why you are (er, I am) writing this right now.

You were freaking out that your wedding wasn’t going to be as pretty and as fun as the ones you see on the internet. And not even those impeccably styled ones, where it looks like no one ever sits down at the table or touches the silverware. You’re agonized by the real ones, with real people.

Well, that’s a silly thing if I ever heard one.

See, you think you’ve got this wedding thing sussed. You’ve said all the right things about how you’re planning for the marriage, not just the wedding day. About how you’re focusing on the sentiment and not the material items. About how you want to eff the pretty and the perfect and just be present, prepared, and joyful. You’re making a mental list, you’re checking it forty-five times (a day), you’re crossing off what you can (and not nearly quickly enough, I might add).

But then you saw a wedding recap and yes, it was pretty and fun in ways you were worried yours won’t be (which is still silly and YOU KNOW THIS), but what struck you most while reading it was the realization that there is this one day? Where you ACTUALLY GET MARRIED. It will be a day — not unlike other days — when you wake up, you go about your business, you go to sleep. Sunrise to sunset, and on to the next.

This should not be an earth-shattering revelation, yet somehow it is.

You know, logically, that you will get married. You know what the venue looks like, you know what vendors you’ve hired, you know more or less who is going to be there. You know there will be flowers in vases, you know there will be a ceremony, you know you will party hard afterward. You’ve walked through the entire thing in your head. You have seen it unfold in your mind’s eye. You have plugged in variables X, Y, and Z, and spit out the calculation: Wedding Day.

Your head has known all along that you’re getting married. But now, suddenly, your heart knows it, too.

So right now you’re grappling with both a shock and a stumbling block. And you know that if I had the capacity to solve all of your problems in one fell swoop, I would. As it were, all I can do is offer some suggestions.

  1. Forget about unattainable levels of coolness. Remember that the blogsphere is but a narrow window into the worlds of others. Refer to this post whenever you need a jolt of truth. Know that for every beautiful wedding blog moment, there is a metaphorical cluttered desk just three feet to the right.* Actually, you should just go ahead and bookmark that page right now.
  2. And as for the matter of your newly-minted heart: Hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

Love,
me

______________________________________________

* (thanks, Kimmie)

really? because i was liking the antler idea

29 years. 29 years of life and thus far I’ve not wasted one second of it thinking about what kind of centerpieces ought to go on tables.* So why should I start now?

Oh. Oh that’s right, I’m getting married. Apparently getting married induces mind-searing self-doubt, and everything you ever knew, loved, and believed is erased and replaced with absolute unwavering faith in what the (industry) leaders say. And if the leaders say think about table centerpieces, then you think about table centerpieces.

It’s kind of like being inducted into a cult.

Yes. Anyway. Tables. I’ve been considering what will go on them for the wedding. We are going to have some flowers, sure. In fact, in the coming months we’re even going to collect various vases for the flowers. Mismatched ones, because we’re** wannabe hipsters like that. And I’m pretty sure we’re going to have tablecloths, too, so that’s cool. But then I start to wonder if flowers in vases on tablecloths are good enough for our wedding. And then I cruise by some “inspiration” blog and see centerpieces featuring meticulously arranged stacks of antique books and handmade paper fans alongside of light chain diodes in the shape of antlers and sunflowers the couple grew themselves floating in a water-filled handblown glass bowl, or some such insanity, and I’m like: Oh. Guess flowers alone definitely aren’t good enough.

Sure, I could just put my foot down. Say whatever, flowers alone are good enough, and move on and be happy. Maybe — maybe — I could even frolic a little. But then I begin to think that I do want more than just flowers on the tables, and that’s where things get mystifying. Because that sounds exactly like something the wedding industry would tell me to want.

Let’s consider the term “wedding industry” for a second. It used to be that the wedding industry meant traditional, and tradition set the standards. And then the indie/DIY movement came along and said, we are going to punch your standards in the eye. And they did! And many people cheered and clapped. But then that indie/DIY movement became its own set of standards, replete with all the trends and frippery that goes along with that. It doesn’t matter if it’s the “alternative” option if the alternative option is making you feel like your stuff is shit in comparison.

What’s my point? I don’t know. I’m still kind of working this out in my head. Trying to figure out why I have such an adverse, snarky reaction to the wedding world of late. I think a lot of it is about coming to grips with the word bride, because bride is such a loaded word in the same way that wife is such a loaded word. Those words define who we are as individuals, but they also become roles we play for others. Hence, I don’t trust the wedding industry, even the indie/DIY faction, because I suspect that playing along with them will make me fall into some kind of bride trap where I suddenly, desperately care about things that don’t actually matter in the scope of life. And afterwards, I will smack my forehead and say, I WAS SO DUMB FOR CARING ABOUT CENTERPIECES. The consequences of which being: If I begin to show the slightest interest in centerpieces, I don’t trust my intentions. Who are you? Who are you listening to? Has the wedding industry come calling again?

You know, this wasn’t meant to be some big serious deal. I came here to write a funny post about centerpieces and it somehow turned into a rambling analysis of self versus other. My apologies. Friday posts are supposed to be light and fluffy, right? Save the drama for your mama, or better yet, Mondays, when we’re all depressed about going back to work anyway.

The bright spot in this mess of a post: I figured out for sure that I want something more than just flowers on the damn tables. Now to just figure out what that is.

It is not going to involve handmade paper fans, that’s for damn sure.

________________________________________

* OK. There was that one time last year I was setting the table for Thanksgiving dinner and thought, it would look nicer if something was on here, so I covered the table with a bed sheet and threw some candesticks in the middle, but that seems like less of a centerpiece and more of a desperate cry for help. At least the bed sheet was clean.

** And by we I mean I.

and the cake was from safeway

The cake in question

I can’t get this Offbeat Bride post out of my mind.

More specifically, I can’t get this quote out of my mind: “And the cake was from SAFEWAY.” Yes, the bride wrote the name of the grocery store in all caps, and rightfully so. Because who does that?

This couple does that. And they rocked it, too.

A grocery-store cake takes some chutzpah. Because I’m pretty sure the Indie DIY Wedding Club would have revoked their membership after a move like that. “It has come to our attention that the bride neglected to hand-craft her cake from organic fair-trade ingredients. Your wedding is made of FAIL.”

On a completely different note: Has anybody ever pulled Steve Perry aside and quietly pointed out that OH HAI, THERE IS NO SOUTH DETROIT. There is just water. City boy must have been born and raised a fish? Next time you make a fist-pumping, guitar-soloing sing-a-long bar anthem you should double check a map, sir.

Steve Perry: “HEY YOU GUYS I FOUND SOUTH DETROIT, IT IS REALLY NICE HERE.” (image source: Wikipedia)