My sister got married last week.
She wore a soft, chiffon, empire-line gown, and her husband-to-be had an actual tear in his eye as she sashayed down some sandy steps to swap handwritten vows on a secluded beach.
Afterwards, a waiter in a linen suit served cocktails on a balcony before the newlyweds released paper lanterns into the night sky.
It was a beautiful, personal, emotional, Pinterest-perfect celebration, and I’m thrilled my sister has found a guy worthy of her.
But I’m also a little sad – because she and my now-brother-in-law eloped, and this wedding took place on the coast of Spain.
That’s about 15,000 kilometres away from both families — and from me, the sister who’s helped the bride plan her nuptials since we watched Ariel’s wedding to Prince Eric on The Little Mermaid together and — you guessed it — pledged to make one another Maid of Honour one day.
I held up my end of the deal: she held up my train as I walked down the aisle and she posed in all the goofy, blurred-around-the-edges photos now sitting in a book on my coffee table.
And now I can’t shake the thought that I should have done the same for her. I feel heartbroken and — I’ll be honest, the tiniest bit cheated — that I wasn’t given that chance.
Okay, hold your outraged “this isn’t about you” comments and hear me out — because I’m well aware marriage centres around two people, and that their preference matters most.
But do I believe that weddings are exclusively about two people?
Vogue has named the wedding trends that are over for 2017.
Hell no. They never have been, and I’m baffled when people assume they are today.
Think about it: Marriage is about the joining of families; the official forging of a partnership that — in more cases than not — will ultimately result in a new branch to the family tree (if you’ll excuse my rather hackneyed botanical analogy.)