Dear Newly Engaged,
How's it all going? Plenty to plan? Lists as long as your arm? Feeling the pressure to get it all right? I know exactly where your head is right now. This past year, as I've attended endless hen parties and weddings, I've been able to observe, from a safe distance, friends tumbling through the turmoil that is getting married. And it's given me the chance to reflect on my own day, when I said 'I do', and do you know what? The more I think about my wedding, the more I realise that it wasn't perfect. For every carefully choreographed moment, there were just as many stress-inducing hiccups. It's funny really, because while the blips are still vivid, I now remember them fondly. So if you're a practicing perfectionist, you might learn one or two things from my, at times, calamitous experience. Some of these are painful to admit, but for you my dear reader, sharing is caring. So, if you will, allow me to share the ten things I wish I'd known before my big day...
1. Panic is a waste of time
For the planners among us, a long engagement certainly has its merits. But sometimes, having too long to deliberate over decor and mull over the minutiae can create the perfect storm. In my two-year build up to the big day, I encountered as many anxiety-ridden dramas as euphoric moments as I simply had too much time to doubt my decisions. Case in point: The Dress. It was first on my to-do list and, to my surprise, the second frock that I slipped into was The One. While ticking off a major milestone in the planning process can settle the jitters, I hadn't anticipated the midnight sweats a year later, when the irrational part of my brain bullied the reasonable part into believing that the dress Was. Not. Right. Me and the dress had had considerable time apart and absence hadn't made the heart grow fonder. What was I thinking, settling on it so soon? Thankfully, following a panicked reunion I fell in love all over again, but, had I trusted my instincts, I'd have saved myself a few unnecessary and embarrassing tear-filled moments. You know, the ones where your friends begin to frown at each other, silently mouthing the word 'Bridezilla'.
2. Weddings aren't the time for experiments!
Which part of your planning includes the section where you're pinned to a bed, the night before, shedding layers of skin as your bridesmaids furiously scrub? Mine neither. But sure enough, that's the predicament I found myself in. Having spent years reluctantly accepting that pale and freckly is fine, I decided to manufacture a radiant glow for the big day. But I'm not as foolish as you'd think: I'd booked myself in for a test run and I was thrilled with the results. But when it came to the actual, important one, in walked a beauty therapist I'd never met, brandishing a gun and, eight hours later I was staring in the mirror in horror. My feet looked muddy; the hand that would surely be the centre of attention was a tide-marked mess; and the arm attached to it hadn't fared much better either. So there I was, locked away the night before, having lemon juice squeezed onto me like a piece of scampi, while frantically Googling tan-removal tricks. How I wish I'd embraced my natural shade.
3. Delegate, don't drown
So, before my bridesmaids got to work on Operation Exfoliation, a deluge of family, friends and well-wishers descended on me like a herd of excited wildebeest. Or so it felt at the time. We were in the midst of a heat wave and, hot and bothered (I was covered up to disguise my beauty faux pax, remember), my husband-to-be and I were trying to iron out the final details before going our separate ways in preparation for the big day. What we hadn't anticipated was all the questions as guests arrived at the venue for the weekend. Where are we sleeping? What's the plan for dinner? Where's the nearest pub? Any delegated drivers that I can get a lift with? It was almost the straw that broke the camel's tanned back and I wish I'd had the *foresight to install ushers and bridesmaids as a welcome committee.
(*In hindsight, I'm secretly glad I had a valid, if extreme, excuse to disappear during those precious final hours).
4. Pretty isn't always practical
While a heat wave was better weather than I could ever have dreamt of, for our poor florist, it was the stuff of nightmares. I'd imagined tulip stems standing perky and proud amidst blousy peonies, but the reality is that both fell victim to drooping before the canapes had even been served. And despite our florist arriving armed with ice for the peony that took pride of place in my hair, sadly the bloom met an undignified ending that put a new spin on 'deadheading'. So while Mother Nature is a tough bird to beat, asking a few more questions when chatting through floral schemes, or any other kind of weather-dependent detail for that matter, might prove prudent.
5. There's late and there's late
"I hope you're not the kind of bride who insists on being late," the organist warned me during one of our visits to church. "I've another appointment after you". Now, I'm not one to be told what to do and as a matter of fact, yes, I believe strongly in the tradition of being late, so I vowed to be five minutes late deliberately and Mr. Organist could put that in his pipes and deal with it. I'd even built it into my watertight schedule, so there.
But as it turns out, I was the one dealing with it in the end and I'm still embarrassed to this day. For all my meticulous planning, I hadn't factored in my dear bridesmaid deciding she'd like her hair and make-up done like the rest of us after all. Sipping champagne, calm at last, I was blissfully unaware that my schedule had dangerously unravelled, until my brother reminded me that vintage cars don't travel at modern speeds and announced that we were going to be - I whisper the words - 40 minutes late. I have only three vivid memories of that fateful 40 minutes: the agonising, deafening tension as several fingers and thumbs fumbled with the buttons on my dress; the speed at which I took to the aisle, apologising to the congregation as I went; and the tempo at which Mr. Organist furiously belted out our hymns.
6. Wet wipes rule
Actually, I have a fourth frightful memory of that tense time. While pacing the room I did what I always do: I tidied up. And somehow managed to transfer the contents of a mascara-stained tissue to my dress. My brother's face failed to conceal his panic as I teetered on the brink of unleashing the meltdown I'd been desperately trying to contain. I remember wishing I'd got to know my dress and how best to treat it better. As it happened, a wet wipe saved the day.
7. Book your photographer late
Not, as in, wait til the day before to confirm them, but more don't let your photographer clock off too early. Like us, many couples think they'll only need the main moments of the day caught on camera and can negotiate a cheaper rate for an earlier finish. But it's a corner that shouldn't be cut. The evening can provide the most natural, unscripted moments when everybody has truly relaxed. Sadly, our memories are now as blurry as our photographs.
8. Keep track of your gifts
One memory I cherish is actually from the day after, when the dust had settled and my new husband and I were sitting opening all of our cards, giggling at the words of wisdom our loved ones had imparted to us. But how I wish I'd kept track of who gave us what. We were overwhelmed by gifts from the heart, so much so that we managed to mismatch a few with their owners... Trust me, sending gushing words of gratitude to the wrong person is up there with the Walk of Shame after a night out.
9. Treat yourselves (again)
It's absolutely worth spending the money on a post-wedding treat. As the budget dwindles away and you find yourself inevitably having to make a few austerity cuts, I'm glad that I insisted on disappearing somewhere fancy the day after for one more night of extravagance. We popped the champagne and put reality on ice, while we relived the past 24 hours' highlights from each other's perspectives. Somehow, going home, putting the washing on and doing the shopping just wouldn't have cut it.
10. Don't let the hangover linger
I'm saving perhaps my canniest tip until last, one I wish I'd known about sooner. All being well, you'll likely encounter a few sore heads the next morning. So why not show your gratitude in the form of a great big jar of assorted hangover cures? It's like the grown up version of the party bag, only this time you'll be saying adieu with an Alka-Seltzer. To my unlucky few guests who shall remain anonymous, I'm sorry you suffered. Truly, I am. But to those who've already RSVP'd to your wedding, you're welcome.
words Sharon Ryan
Copyright Wed magazine 2016
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