And that was that. The Filly wedding had officially come to an end.
But unofficially, not really. We all trooped downstairs to Hemingway’s, the hotel bar, to keep the party going.
Well, almost everybody went downstairs right away. I had to run back to our suite for some emergency dress repairs. Because I am a classy lady at all times, I had kicked my shoes off at some point in the evening and left them under our sweetheart table. My dress had been expertly tailored to my height—with shoes on. Without shoes, my dress was a little too long, and at the end of the night, one of my friends accidentally stepped on the back of my dress, and one of my bustle points broke. Nothing a safety pin couldn’t fix. (Pro tip: have handy friends.)
But anyway. After-party time!
That happened. (Love you, Mom.)
So did that. (G has mastered the invisible saxophone.)
My dad ran around picking up drink tabs and, apparently, high-fiving my friends. (Also, can we just talk about B’s hair for a minute? I loved her updo, and it still looked perfect, over 12 hours after it was done.)
Clearly, the time for professional photography had ended.
If the party was in full swing upstairs in the ballroom, it got even crazier downstairs in Hemingway’s. My dad was running around the bar picking up any tabs he could get his hands on. Katlyn, the wedding coordinator, kept appearing like magic to make sure my drink was full at all times. The dance floor was jam-packed. My 92-year-old great aunt was partying right alongside the 20-somethings. It was so much fun.
All those cheesy line dances (I’m looking at you, Cupid Shuffle) that our band didn’t play happened down here. In case anyone was really, really missing them.
I feel like these pictures all look like the type of pictures we took bar-hopping in college, only we’re all way better dressed here.
The reception officially ended at 11:30, but for the second night in a row, we closed down Hemingway’s around 2:00 AM. The official last-last dance of the Filly wedding?
Ain’t no shame in my Disney game.
Once Stallion and I made the trek back to our suite, it was time to take off the nicest, most expensive dress I’ve ever worn (and will ever wear). Problem? We couldn’t get my dress off. That long row of gorgeous tiny buttons was proving impossible to undo. And so, after about a half hour of struggling, I had to start making phone calls.
Yes, hive, I had to call for help to get me out of my wedding dress. Is that what rock bottom feels like?
Finally, I got a hold of my sister K, who could barely contain her laughter, and she had me out of my dress in no time. And it wasn’t awkward at all. (Not.)
Oh, and at some point during the whole get-me-out-of-my-dress debacle, my phone fell in the toilet. RIP, toilet phone.
And that was how I started off my life as a Smug Married.
The morning after. The curtains are closed for a reason. Namely, our pounding headaches.
Bright and early, and a little worse for wear, it was time for our post-wedding brunch. Back in the ballroom, we had a continental breakfast on offer—bagels, pastries, fruit, yogurt, coffee, tea, and juices. We wanted it to be super casual and laid back; we wanted people to feel free to stop by any time and stay for as long (or short!) as they wanted, like an open house type of feel. Which was why we didn’t have hot food—we had thought it might get kind of gross if it was sitting out for a few hours.
In hindsight, we could have done something fancier—of everyone who came to brunch (about 110 of our 150 guests), most people did show up right on time and stay the entire two hours. That said, given that we didn’t ask people to RSVP for this, the head count we gave to the Grand was a total shot in the dark. A continental breakfast gave us maximum flexibility—if we had way less people than anticipated, we could enjoy leftover bagels forever, and if way more people showed up, cutting up extra fruit was a lot easier than preparing another tray of bacon.
The point is, brunch was really nice, and people really appreciated being fed. Who doesn’t like a good bagel?
We kept the decor for brunch reeeeally simple. No chair covers, standard linens (we had Katlyn choose everything, and I thought the pinky-peach tablecloths complemented the green chairs so nicely—it looked so springy and pretty.), house centerpieces consisting of glass bowls filled with sand, sea glass, and shells.
Some of the decor from the night before stayed up, like the family wedding photos.
And finally, finally, finally, it was all over. Our guests hit the road, and it was time for us to do the same. We checked out of our rooms, loaded up the cars, and hit the road. Officially, unofficially, no matter how you sliced it, there was nothing left to do. The Filly wedding weekend was nothing more than a memory. (And it was time for our fabulous Jamaican honeymoon. Oh man, I seriously miss Couples/Jamaica. Let’s go back, Stallion.)
B took the flowers with her to Philadelphia for preservation. More on that to come!
I don’t really have a graceful way to end this post. Our wedding came and went in the blink of an eye. I had spent the past year and a half making lists, calling vendors, reading contracts, looking for inspiration, over-thinking every decision I made, and yes, writing for Weddingbee, and it was finally all over.
And you know what? It. Felt. Awesome. Like a huge and extremely expensive weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
I loved our wedding, and I had fun planning it, but you know what I love more? Free time. I am so happy to put wedding planning behind me and move on to whatever Stallion’s and my next adventures may be.
Fortunately for you guys (or not, who knows—maybe you’re all sick of me!), I have a few more things to say before I sign off once and for all.
How did you feel once your wedding was over?
Missed one? Catch up on the fun!
- I humblebrag about how awesome our wedding day was.
- We rehearse and dine.
- A minor marriage license snafu means there might not be a wedding after all.
- The girls get glam.
- The guys escape to the beach.
- We have our first look.
- We take a trolley tour of Cape May.
- The processional begins.
- I walk down the aisle with my parents by my side.
- We make it official.
- Our receiving line was a great idea.
- We skip cocktail hour, but our guests sure enjoyed it.
- We make a grand(ish) entrance.
- Our first dance is pretty Boss.
- We chow down, and things start to get a little rowdy.
- CAKE FLIP 2014!
- We dance the night away.