Okay, let’s say you’re a guest at the Wallaby wedding. Cocktail hour (more on that next!) is coming to a close, and the DJ interrupts the scheduled programming (cocktail hour must-play list—duh! 😉 ) to make a brief announcement that dinner is about to start. If you want your mashed potatoes and BBQ, it’s time to take a seat.
A table is set up between the cocktail hour space and the dinner tables, and there are clusters of bottled Coca Cola with name tags. You wander over to the table, locate a bottle with your name and table number (and take a swig…c’mon, you know you love it!), and find your table.
(Okay, crazy b’zilla side note…I would have loved for someone to have ditched the cardboard Coke boxes, uncapped the bottles, and stuck a pretty striped paper straw in each bottle. The cardboard boxes take away from any Style Me Pretty professional escort card charm…But the whole day was incredibly busy for everyone, and in spite of it all, I still got a lot of compliments on the Coke bottle idea…So in the end, it really wasn’t a big deal. Just sayin’. Some things won’t turn out the way you expect on your wedding day, but these small details are not worth sweating over. So here’s a zoomed-out photo where you can see the cardboard boxes in all their glory.)
The table numbers are marked by DIY cashier’s stakes.
Each place setting has a blush-colored dinner napkin, but other than that, the linens are pretty minimalist.
(There was also a favor—organic loose tea in test tubes—at each place setting, but I think these detail photos were taken before Teri set out all the favors.)
At the head of the dance floor is a little sweetheart table set up for the bride and groom.
Off to the side is an old dresser converted into a cake table. (Hi, unashamed lover of all things vintage here.) There’s a three-tier bride’s cake surrounded by plates of Persian cookies.
Funny thing about the cookies…virtually every second-generation Persian (i.e. girl or guy under 30) I’ve met despises Persian cookies. They’re very strongly flavored with rose water, and since many are made with rice flour, they’re a little…sandy. Mr. W and his sibs call them “sand cookies.” Nevertheless, they’re an absolute staple at Persian weddings. I guess they’re like the Jordan almonds of Iran.
And that’s a wrap on the detail photos. Let’s get back to the action. Someone just finished off not one, but all three signature cocktails. Things are about to get cray.
*All photos by the top-drawer, superb Mustard Seed Photography.
Miss a recap? Previously:
- We got our pro pics in the mail, and I freaked out just a little.
- Orlando and his crew at A Sweet Film whipped up a sweet little teaser from the wedding.
- We p-a-r-t-ied with close friends and fam, Persian style. (We’re taking “Gangnam Style” to the next level.)
- We girls got our nails did, while the guys carted all of the wedding stuff off to the venue. Poor boys.
- We survived a hectic rehearsal in the dark.
- The wedding party and our out-of-town guests joined us for a juicy steak rehearsal dinner.
- I wrote my vows, and we battled Houston traffic to get to Oak Tree Manor.
- Following some game-time decisions, we girls sat in the stylist’s chair for hair and makeup.
- Mr. W sent up a sentimental note and a sweet little gift, and I got all dressed up.
- Mustard Seed snapped some more photos of us during our couple’s portraits and family portraits.
- I shared our ceremony deets, our guests arrived, and my dad and I got a little emotional.
- We walked/sauntered/pranced/cried down the aisle and we were married. Then we made a grand exit. But we soon returned to the ceremony tree to take wedding party photos.
- I shared the details.