Weddingbee Blog

For all of my already-treasured memories of our May day, the morning of my wedding eludes me. I remember waking to no appetite whatsoever, I sort of remember being at the salon, and I remember laughing on the car ride to our venue.

Once there, I had no choice but to slow down. I sat on a stool, warm sunlight pouring in the windows, as my makeup artist brushed blush across my cheeks and pulled mascara across my lashes. The room was too small for more than one other person, and I felt calm and still and centered. It was exactly what I needed. Downstairs, I could hear voices—groomsmen and parents and vendors arriving—but for that moment, I was happy to sit and wait.

What awaited me was a gauzy white dress, with hard-won sleeves…

Delicate satin shoes befitting of only a bride…

Understated pearl earrings and my something old, that beloved string of pearls…

And my something blue—a piece that belonged to my beautiful grandmother.

Soon enough, my makeup was pronounced done, and I headed downstairs. My dearest friends bustled around our getting-ready space in their black gowns, but I tell you truly: that morning, I had no idea what they were doing. Sliding on their black high-heels, fluffing their hair, perfecting their makeup? No idea. I was in a happy haze, focused on final touches while my MVP MOH re-curled my hair for the first of approximately eight times.

Under the duress of wedding day plans, I became Question Asker Bride. “Oh, your dresses are so beautiful. Are they comfortable? Do you feel okay in them?” (Like, if they weren’t, what would happen? I say: oh, nevermind, wear your yoga pants? Probably not.)

Lest you think it was all solemn earring and mascara application, I assure you: it was mostly like this.

In the ubiquitous VS Bride robe (a gift from said MOH), I apparently gave a full-on hyena cackle at something my best guy friend said. I vaguely remember calling for him to come in because I could hear his voice in the other room but couldn’t see him. As soon as he appeared, so did Question Asker Bride. Do you like the tie I got you? Are all the guys ready? Do you think the boutonnières are okay? Yes, crazy lady. All good.

(P.S. He did not really call me ’crazy lady’ on my wedding day. He is kind of sassy, but not a fool.)

Eventually, someone handed me bouquet, and, it was basically love at first sight.

I remember gushing to the florist, babbling about how she must have reached into my mind and plucked out my vision of the perfect bridal bouquet. For once in my life, that’s not hyperbole.

Then, as soon as my hair was re-curled and my bouquet obsessed over, it was dress time. Since my dress did not call for, ahem, undergarments, climbing into it was not a graceful endeavor. A small roomful of people were watching, so I stepped into the heavy dress with my tank top still on, as to not give it away for free. After a few awkward shimmies and several arm contortions to remove my tank top, it was on:

And the necklace became a bracelet.

I pulled on my shoes, and my mom helped me pin my grandmother’s brooch to the coarse tulle beneath my skirt’s several layers. Despite the room full of people, I went to a quiet place in my mind for that moment. There was something comforting about that little piece of silver and sapphire, a talisman that meant my grandmother would never be far.

Later, our photographer snapped an almost-candid photo that captured most of my accessories—including my little black clutch, which I loved. My MOH had just run downstairs to grab the curling iron (again), and I was waiting for her to return. The limo had pulled up outside, idling until it was time to leave for the church. This expression summarizes the overarching feeling of my day: content and sort of dazed by the bustling and bliss.

For only a moment, I glanced in the mirror. I blinked at myself and thought: this is what I look like on the day I get married. Someday, my children will look at pictures of me looking exactly as I do now. For all of the times I felt out of place in the world of girls planning weddings, the evidence was clear: I was the bride and, for that one day, it felt exactly right.

Photography- Katie Albrecht of Blink of an Eye

Makeup- Sarah Cormier

Flowers- Glendale Florist

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