Save the glitter and calligraphy pens: The wedding tradition that needs to end right now.
Yesterday I received a very large envelope. It’s rare I receive anything in the mail that’s not a bill so I was mildly interested. But my heart sank a bit when I saw my name in fancy calligraphy on the front. Only one type of person in the world uses calligraphy on an envelope.
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I ripped open the envelope and seven different cards fell out. I know this because I counted them. There was also a small explosion of silver stars that had been in the envelope and which immediately scattered across my floorboards.
This did not make me feel neither festive nor joyful for the happy couple. It made me want to whack them over the head with the Dustbuster I didn’t own and which would be required to clean up the bloody sparkly mess all over the floor.
The stars, though, they were just the garnish. The printed invitation – and it’s entourage of other bits of printed information – were the main events. Let’s break down these seven different pieces of communication.
There was the invitation to the wedding itself. In Thailand.
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There was a card detailing the guest registry and how the happy couple would like me to donate to a special fund so they could choose their own loot.
There was a card about accommodation in Thailand. Another one about flights. One about the itinerary for the wedding weekend (why do weddings have to take an entire weekend now? Who can spare a weekend, not to mention many thousands of dollars, to fly overseas for a 45 minute ceremony that could just have easily happened at a nice restaurant or a local park – but I digress).
There was also a little card where I had to write my RSVP and SEND IT BACK IN AN ENVELOPE WITH A STAMP. Seriously? What is this, 1991? Can I not email my RSVP? And finally, there was a mini-montage of photos of the couple from throughout their four-year relationship. This was nice to look at. I guess.
The invitation was in so many parts, I became confused about what I was meant to do.
As a single mother-of-two who battles to afford a babysitter for a night out with the girls once a month, my friends surely knew I wasn’t able to afford the time or money required to attend their wedding. So that’s a bit annoying.
But as someone who works in events management, I know how much it would have cost them to print these invitations. Many, many thousands of dollars. And that made me wince even more than I did when my toddler came and stuffed a handful of silver stars into her mouth.
I mean, what a waste of money. Am I unromantic to think this? Bitter? Maybe it was a lovely idea to invite me to a wedding they knew I could never attend. To make me feel included. It probably was a nice thing to do but I just kept looking at all the paper and the time and energy that went into it all and I couldn’t help thinking it was a giant waste.
My friend, the bride, is a smart, incredibly busy woman. Her husband-to-be works two jobs as a tradie and a waiter to help contribute to their mortgage. Why the need for all this invitation silliness?
Couldn’t they just make a website with all the information or email people or something?
Am I the world’s least romantic, most practical person?
Unfortunately, I don’t have time to ponder this too deeply. I have to find the vacuum cleaner and go to the post office to buy a stamp.
What was your wedding invitation like? Was it worth the cost? Send us a photo if you have one.