Who'll Take the Pictures?

Today the Hunky Scientist and I met a photographer over at a coffee shop in the Sunset. Bob's more into evaluating personality and whether or not he's comfortable with the photographers and their methods and philosophies, so that's his area of coverage. I'm more into looking at the way they compose their photos, how they run their business, what their client-service ethic is, and so on. We're both concerned about budget. This photographer has a gorgeous portfolio and she has the background I'm hoping to find in our wedding photographer. She wasn't too thrown off by our unconventional wedding plans (only 1 attendant each, no flower girl, no ring bearer, no dancing at the reception, please no interminable slog of posed photos right after the wedding.) She wasn't overly friendly; she conducted herself as though she were on a job interview, which was appropriate, but she wasn't overly formal or stiff either. And her rates are within our budget. She's the only photog we've interviewed so far, but I like her a lot. Bob is reserving judgment until we meet with the other two we have in mind. We had a nice chat, a nice cup of coffee, and then we came home and I broke out the jump rope, the dumbells, the exercise ball, and the yoga mat and had a medium-hard workout. Which means there was plenty of sweating, but no swearing. Now I'm just finishing a bowl of Bob's potato and kale soup. And I'm about to go scrounge up some dessert to balance out the healthfulness of this meal. So far the working out has trimmed me down a few pounds and some previously too-tight pants are fitting again. I am far from the sleek number I aim to be by February of next year. Mind you, I'm posting this on my wedding site. But I made this fitness goal well before Bob proposed. Quit scoffing. And if you don't stop rolling your eyes, they'll freeze in position back there and when that happens you'd best not come crying to me.

Hot on the trail

On my first try at wedding dress shopping, one of the 15 dresses I tried was this one. Mind you, it's from the 2006 collection of Casablanca, so the dress I tried on had been gotten into by dozens of sweaty women before me. Still, it looked marvelous and was very comfortable. But the price tag said $785. "I love this dress, but there's no way I'm paying $785 for it," I told my girlfriends. "I'll pay half, though." The saleslady said she'd "work with me" if I wanted to buy the dress off the rack or if I found a better deal elsewhere. The off the rack option amounted to a 20 percent discount, which I pretended to consider while inwardly scoffing. Once back home I looked the style number up on the Casablanca web site and noted that the fabric is listed as "silky taffeta." Which means "polyester." Now I don't care about wearing a polyester gown. Manmade fabrics have come a very long way, and we wear high-quality clothing made from them every day. But polyester is much less expensive than silk. This dress probably cost about $40 to make, tops (it's made far overseas and while the beading is sewn in there's very little of it). I've gone to some longstanding and reputable online businesses to see what they could do and so far, I've gathered two quotes, both for around $400. I'm going to see if I can nudge it down closer to $300. Wish me luck!

If I wasn't Orthodox, we'd elope. Seriously.

I've helped so many friends plan their weddings that the planning part is no mystery and holds no anxiety for me. What gets me is the expectations foisted upon me (and the hunky scientist) by the industry and by the women I know who have sipped that particular shade of Kool-Aid. I admit I'm a crankypants when it comes to this kind of thing. The sound of someone swooning over the perfect lace-festooned guest book, or fake-diamond-encrusted "wedding shoes" makes me bolty and the sight of wedding supply catalogs makes me need to chew Tums.

The wedding industry tells me I need to spend at least $700 to look halfway decent on the big day, that I need engraved wedding invitations in a hue that matches my bridesmaids' dresses, that I have to order my bridesmaid's dresses with shoes dyed to match, that I have to have more than 1 bridesmaid, that my fiance is a dunderhead who has no taste and who shouldn't be trusted with anything except maybe renting a tux, that I need to worry about white--not wooden--chairs at the reception (not to mention bows for the backs of those chairs), that I need to purchase just the right centerpieces for each table, that I need to tell everyone where to sit, that I should set up interesting candy stations or photo booths or whatever so our guests won't be bored. It's enough to make me want to elope. And we would, if it wouldn't set me at odds with my church.

I know someone who swallowed all that wedding industry folderol whole and flapping. She wasn't a bridezilla, but she was a glass-eyed adherent to the big lie. Her wedding was perfect. But it wasn't because of all the stress and work she put into every last tiny detail. It was because she and her man were married with their family and friends standing 'round them, and then there was a nice shindig. I guess my definition of "perfect" is pretty loose.

The hunky scientist and I are planning our wedding together, every step of the way. We don't want to stage an Event. We just want to get married and have dinner with our friends afterward. I'm thrilled to report that as of last night we have sewn up about 45 percent of the details of our wedding. It's a huge relief.

Dress shopping and other unsavory things

I've always been a tomboy who longs to be more fem. I've always been most comfortable in jeans, next comfortable in skirts, and least comfortable in dresses. Perhaps that's because it's difficult to find dresses that fit me well (I feel sizzly hot in dresses that do fit). At my fittest, I'm a size 10. I'm presently not at my fittest. (Yeah. I'm working on it.) My torso is short in comparison with my legs. This means that dresses in petite sizes fit my body best, but tend to be too short. In regular dress boutiques, the fitting rooms are not my friend. However, in bridal boutiques, I've found the dresses are constructed to hide regrettable features and play up assets. Thus, I've found wedding dress shopping to be fun--at least in part. That is, these dresses make me look stunning. However....most are WAY too foofy to be any fun at all. I'm not looking to be a Barbie. I just want to look like a bride. Whatever that means. I guess what it means to me is something beautiful and formal, but with very little bling. Pearls are OK. Embroidery (with ivory thread) is OK. But no sequins. No shiny beads. Nothing shiny. No poofy anything. And no long-ass train.

Also (brace yourself), I only want to spend $300 on it. Bob and I are paying for every cent of this wedding by ourselves (except for those ceremonial items our koumbara traditionally supplies. I do not intend to flush more than $300 of our budget on a dress I'll wear only once. So, my aim is to get a devastating dress for a song (Bob applauds). Also, I want to be left alone until I have questions or want to negotiate a buy. All these contingencies combined do not make me a well-liked customer at the bridal salon.

Other contingencies make me a puzzling figure to some of my girlfriends from church. I haven't selected my wedding "colors." Bob and I want only a single person to stand up with us. I figure whatever color my matron of honor chooses, that'll be the color I think about incorporating into whatever other decor we arrange for. We don't want tons of flowers everywhere. We don't need limos to take us from church to reception. We don't care about monogrammed napkins, nor favors, nor engraved toasting glasses. I'd be happy going for pizza after the rehearsal rather than having a sit-down dinner. I'm organized, so naturally I gravitated toward the wedding planner section of bookstores. But all the planners I saw were illustrated in pastel shades with flowers and lace--they were clearly meant only for the bride. Well, there are two of us getting married, so two of us have to like the planner. So I made one for us out of a binder and some tabbed divider sheets.

I don't want to have a "perfect, fairy tale" wedding at which I can "look like a princess." I want to share a real, intimate, beautiful, fun wedding with Bob and our family and friends, and a great dinner gathering afterward. Then go somewhere relaxing for a while.