Wedding Planner Supremo

So wedding planning began in ernest. 

We found the venue - a lovely Tibetan Peace Park 2 kms from our house. Reno wanted a wedding planner, a stylist, someone who could do the lot for us. We chose a Gatsby theme, so what that everyone else was doing the same. We chose black and white with a smidgeon of red.  We chose chairs, and tables, urns and ice buckets. I spent months trawling through the Good Sammies bins, St Vinnies, and Red Cross.  I found crystal cut glass goblets, Noritake cups and saucers, vintage English crockery.  Candelabras from ebay.  Vintage napkins and art deco table runners.   I was there so often that I was given whole trolleys of tiny vintage coffee cups for the price of a few cappucinos.

We made our wedding invitations, each one slightly different.  I bought lace and fabric and ribbons, and red and black cartridge paper; we cut and sliced and shredded and glued.  Reno came home at night from his day job, ready to glue and stick what I asked of him.  I made our chuppah, the traditional Jewish wedding canopy that represents the first home a couple shares, out of recycled rice paper and silk. I'd originally had the idea of asking all our beautiful friends to contribute a piece of special fabric, in neutral tones, that I'd stitch together like a life tapestry. 

We were given beautiful pieces ... Sharlene's quilting group made strips with our names on. Robyn donated the gown she was christened in, made of old lace and lawn fabric.  Roberta gave a piece of Venetian lace.  But then putting it all together became too problematic as the textures and colours didn't go together.  So I stitched what I could of the suitable pieces, to be used during the ceremony as a table runner.

Reno found the chuppah poles, in a tangled garden down the road from our house. The bamboo had been cut down by the scruffy old Italian owner, who, when I told him I wanted them for our wedding, said that the best present I could give my new husband would be to have my teeth removed by his Dee Why dentist.  His wife sat in front of their tv, gnawing on a packet of Doritos.  

I made our chuppah from recycled paper and silk, with silk ribbons. 

We found our food supplier, after lofty ideas of asking our whole family to contribute to the meal, as food is the greatest gift of love, according to George Bernard Shaw.  But bowls of cheezels and Kraft cheese, or too many salad plates, or even Salmonella from a hot boot, scared us.  We decided on light, beautiful Asian fusion, with heaps of salads, served on large boards, with iced teas and Italian drinks.  The canopies were ordered.  I went to the flower markets at 5am to enjoy what the season had to offer.

I bought my first wedding dress.   From an on line China bridal emporium.  Emerald green.  It cost $200, I was thrilled to get such a bargain, for I promised that I absolutely wouldn't spend a ridiculous amount on a dress that I'd wear once for a few hours.  I measured myself to the smallest centimetre.  I lost 8kg so that I'd fit into anything.  When it arrived, it rustled like a dry Christmas tree.  Sparks practically flew off it. Had I gone near a match, I would have immolated, burst into flames.  Bits of me stuck out where they shouldn't. Other parts were tucked away, lost forever.  I looked like a giant glittering lettuce. A pantomime, something from Alice in Wonderland's big afternoon tea.  I demanded a refund.

I bought another one. Also from China.  Ivory, with a lovely fishtail skirt.  Fitted like a dream in the photos.  Tight over the bodice. Touch of lace. Higher in the front than back.  Made to measure, from my exact, lost weight specifications.  What a slow learner am I. This one drowned me. I looked like all my worst grandmother nightmares rolled into one, as if I was going into hospital to have a lapband. Terrifying in the extreme.  Reno heard my moans, and so bad was the dress that he was allowed to see it, on condition he promised to go through with the marriage.   After a protracted struggle with the supplier, I got a full refund for this one as well.

And then I  decided to get exactly the dress I wanted.  I told Reno I'd found it, that it was expensive. It was a wild concoction of black and white net, with a tight bodice that had to be laced up.  It was strapless, and wanton, and not like anything I'd every imagine. I did want a red dress, and started the process of having one made, but someone said the red would take attention away from my face. I couldn't possibly have that!  I consulted my friends about the white and black lace, the bodice.  It was the wildest thing I'd ever put against my skin.  (Apart from Reno, wink wink.)   Their decision was unanimous.  Get That Dress.  It's Very You.  But it was also the most expensive thing I'd ever put again my skin.

I told my fiancé.  He said if it's what you want, get it, because from the day you marry me, I don't want you to compromise about anything.  So when he went to have his suit made, he went to the tailor who had, co-incidentally made clothes for his fashionable dad  - made to measure, just what he'd always wanted.

He's the one.

Sydney rained for three months.  The grounds were sodden.  Our contingency plan in case of bad weather fell through and for weeks we checked the weather report.  Reno came home with flowers to cheer me up, and told me that I should believe him when he said the weather would be remarkable. "It's not you I don't trust, I sniffed, it's the universe."

In all our plannings, we didn't have a single disagreement.  We made the wedding we wanted.  And we booked our honeymoon, to Venice and Beyond.  We learned that one of the reasons for big weddings, and big expenses, and lots of planning was to see how much you agreed on everything and anything.  And all that expense and time and trouble is not just about the wedding day.

It's six months of having the most ridiculous, frivilous fun, anyone can imagine.  And we did.

And so the wedding day dawned.