CHAPTERS on Masterminds of Matrimony
🦞 wedding on your own terms 🦞
Therapy made me do it. As soon as I could afford to see a therapist, I took the plunge. If you’re at all interested in being the happiest version of yourself, there is no greater investment. I geared up for a deep dive into my childhood. What I wasn’t expecting then, was to come away with the revelation that I wanted to get married. I’d never thought that before… had I? “In my experience,” the therapist said in an unguarded moment a few sessions in, “women who say they’re not bothered about getting married, usually aren’t telling the truth.”
However, for me, there were two major off-putting aspects to marriage. First, the idea of ‘a wedding’ —the planning, admin, potential drama and fuss it entails. Second, I couldn’t get on board with the traditional, patriarchal meanings behind it. I will promise to ‘obey’ no-one, thank you very much. For James, the idea of being centre of attention, with everyone watching and staring at him, was unbearable. Nevertheless, we began to entertain the prospect one evening over dinner at Sessions Arts Club. “This would be an amazing setting for a wedding,” we mused, casually. The following day, on the down low, I had a nosy at their website, noted that they did host weddings and scoped out their prices.
Many months later, travelling around Mexico, the topic had become hotter than the weather. The more we talked about it, the more real it got. We sat by the pool, chatting excitedly about the idea of a New Years Eve wedding. What better night to throw the party of a lifetime? We wrote out a prospective guest list on the back of a couple of drinks receipts. “I wonder if Sessions Arts Club host weddings.” James said. I confessed my secret research, feeling a little embarrassed about my forwardness. Any concern I had that he’d think I’d got ahead of myself was later alleviated when he admitted he’d already ordered an engagement ring. Turns out we were both masterminds of matrimony.
We contacted the venue and they were available on NYE. “Shall we do it?!” We were giddy. “Let’s do it!” Later that day, my best friend from school Facetimed me, holding her left hand in front of the camera. “We got engaged!” Waggling her stunning ring down the lens, skilfully holding a glass of fizz at the same time. Little did she know, so had we, albeit unofficially. What a glorious summertime it was.
The official proposal came after we got home to London. The party plan was easy. The ceremony was harder. The town hall website had pre-written marriage scripts to choose from, ‘traditional’, ‘contemporary’, ‘unconventional’, but none of these inspired us. Then one day, I was listening to a podcast and Alastair Campbell happened to be talking about the reasons he chose a Civil Partnership. He said that marriage sat uncomfortably with their belief in equality, but when civil partnerships were extended to heterosexual couples, they happily legalised their relationship.
I messaged James:
“You know what we should do” I typed. “A civil partnership.”
“Oki, why?” He replied a few minutes later.
“It sits better with my feminist beliefs and anti-godliness.”
“Sounds good. I agree. My pref too.” He said. Followed by, “on sat, how we getting there / when we leaving?”
That, dear readers, is modern romance.
The idea of a Civil Partnership was much more exciting to us as it originated from a desire for equality, its very roots grounded in fairness, respect and consideration for others. I loved that we could write our own ceremony and there weren’t any obligatory legal statements. The words would be ours. It could be personal or as James liked to call it, ‘casual.’ We chose the room where Paul McCartney was married in Marylebone Town Hall, which felt like a nice nod to our home roots. It was a small room, just close friends and family.
Three months later and I am reliving the memories through hundreds of photos arriving in print. We had a guestbook on the day where friends wrote drunken notes next to polaroid pictures. There are plenty of pages left so my plan was to stick photos on them and make it into a wedding zine. I headed to a Ryman stationary shop for supplies. Inside it looked like a scene from one of those TV shows about compulsive hoarders. This episode would feature a man who’s Grandfather handed down an ancient-looking protractor the day before he died, leaving the kid with an obsession for office supplies that he only grew in to. I stood bewildered for a while then caved, “excuse me, do you have sticky photo corners?” The shop assistant pointed directly at me and I realised I’d been standing in front of them the whole time. There were only a few boxes left so I cleared the shelf of the lot. While I hadn’t done the exact maths, every photo had four edges so, I needed MANY of them. “That’s a big project you’re working on.” The shop assistant commented curiously. “Yeah, I just got my wedding photos back.” He laughed. “I got married ten years ago and we still haven’t managed to put the photos into an album.” Packing the shop’s remaining stock into my pockets I thought smugly, ‘well my wedding album is going to be done this very same day.’ As I left the store another young woman went in. I hoped she wasn’t looking for sticky corners.
One thing which thankfully was not caught on camera was the rude awakening I had on the morning of the wedding. I jumped out of bed at 7am, woken by a nightmarish realisation that I’d forgotten to cancel £1,000 worth of hotel rooms we no longer needed. Why does the human brain process forgotten chores at the most inconvenient time? You’ll be driving on a motorway, mindlessly, miles away from your house and suddenly realise you’ve left the straighteners on, a window open, or the backdoor unlocked. Or just as you climb into bed at the end of a long day, you reach to turn off the light and your mind pings an overdue reminder of the wet washing you left in the machine. This rude awakening aside, and crisis averted, the morning was unexpectedly chilled. Traditionally the unmarried couple are separated in the lead-up to the wedding. Personally, I found these moments together beforehand as special as the celebration itself.
On reflection, there were a few things we decided to do on our own terms which I would highly recommend. We in no way re-invented the wheel but some small tweaks to the traditions were a powerful way to make the day feel more like ours to own.
I didn’t do bridesmaids, and instead of hiring a ‘glam squad’ to do my hair and make-up, I got myself ready with the help of my sister, Lauren. This was one of the best decisions I made. Those couple of hours spent together playing music, chatting and laughing were so much fun. One of the biggest surprises of getting wed was the happiness it brought to the people close to us. It was lovely to share that time in privacy.
By chance of shuffle, ‘Seasons of Love’ from Rent started playing as I was putting on my dress. The lyrics “measure in love” ringing in my ears as Lauren buttoned up the back. James was getting ready in another room with his brother. We decided to share this ‘first look’ moment at home rather than at the ceremony. Another small but memorable choice to do something a little more on our terms. It helped dispel the nerves of walking in to the ceremony later too.
People had warned me, “The time goes so fast; enjoy every second, stop to take it all in, make mental pictures of the special moments.’ This is great wisdom in theory, but I found it impossible in practice. From the minute I got out of the wedding car the afternoon flew by. If you’re anything like me, you won’t remember a thing. My unfiltered advice is to hire a videographer and ask them to send you all of the uncut footage and/or print a gazillion photos.
James was very insistent that we wouldn’t allow only men do speeches, so I did a bride speech. I hadn’t been keen on the idea, as I didn’t feel the need to add any more nerves into the day. However, I’m thankful that he pushed me to get up there and seize the moment. I used it to praise our Mums and to talk about the importance of female friendship. And it wasn’t even half as scary as I’d imagined. Girls, if you want to speak, do it.
When last orders were called and people started to say their goodbyes, I sobbed and didn’t want anyone to leave. My feet, however, were very happy it was over after I’d subjected them to an entire afternoon and night in heels. I wish I had done a change of shoes as well as a second dress. Hindsight really is a wonderful thing.
The following day, I wrote down some wedding reflections. Write everything down if you can find the time. My diary entry of the day already reads like a delirious, crazy person, but that’s the fun of it. For example, reading it back this week, I particularly enjoyed the fact I’ve just written ‘WOW’ across two lines. I’m not sure what I’m wowing at, there’s no context. I guess the entire thing was just kind of astonishing to me.
My earlier smugness of thinking I’d complete a wedding album in one day was short-lived. After a few hours of painstakingly fiddly sticky corners I had countless photos still to do and gave up. Now I understand why the Ryman shop assistant hadn’t bothered. It might take me a decade to finish the job.