Jennifer and I were married a little while ago, and as I’ve talked to people during the planning process it has become clear that we had a very different perspective and did things differently as a result. More than a few of the people I’ve talked to about this (mostly guys) have asked me to write up our approach and decision-making process, so here goes:
First, let me outline our constraints a little. Jennifer and I have both been out of our parents houses and financially independent for quite a while. For both of us, our independence is a point of pride and so even if our respective parents had offered to help with financing the festivities, we probably would have declined. So constraint 1: we were paying for it. Next, we decided that the wedding would happen in San Francisco (where we live) and not in Indianapolis or Sacramento (where our parents live). Our lives are here, many of our friends are here, and my church is here. Our connections to other places are very tenuous now, and despite the high cost of doing things in SF, the logistical complications of doing it elsewhere coupled with our sense of belonging in this city made the decision on location easy. Lastly, it was going to be a church wedding. I frequently find myself disagreeing on cultural and social matters with other members of my congregation, and indeed with many synod policies, but it was never really a question for me whether I would be married in the church.
So those are the external constraints: a church wedding, in San Francisco, on a budget of whatever we could personally afford. Everything else was optional or up for discussion. Through the engagement period we were constantly reminding ourselves of several things:
- We’re a team and wedding planning is a team sport
- We’d much rather be married than get married
- Our marriage is worth not going into debt for
Weddings are 2-part affairs: a formal ceremony wherein we get hitched and a party to celebrate said hitching. Many modern weddings do these things at the same venue (not a church) or in other ways bend the formula, but since we were going to have a church wedding, we were going to need a separate location for the reception (aka: party). The wedding/reception split was something we grappled with throughout the planning process, particularly with regards to the guest list. More on that in a bit. A month or so after getting engaged we knew roughly how much we wanted to spend, that we needed to coordinate dates and times with the church, that we’d need some new clothes for the gig, and that we’d need to find a separate venue for the party. Also, we knew that we’d need flowers, invitations, a photographer, and food for the reception. These were the “must have” items for us, but they break down into fixed and variable costs:
- Fixed: dress & tux, church fees, minimum venue fees, photography, transportation, entertainment
- Variable: flowers/arrangements, reception food and drinks
Many of the fixed costs have some variable component and vice versa, but looking at the wedding as whole, it became pretty clear that if we were going to have any hope of managing costs, it would happen in the variable costs category. Some costs are also fixed but contingent or in other ways optional. For example, venue rental fees may be fixed based on the amount of time you rent them for, but that fee might be waived if you order food from the venue. The fee might also scale in very rough proportion to the size of the group so an incrementally bigger wedding probably wouldn’t cost you more until you hit some threshold and you had to find another location. In our research desirability, location, and other factors seemed to dominate venue costs unless you’re talking a 500+ person wedding. Also, choice of venue determines a lot of things, like the need for external catering, tents, or temporary flooring. That steep price tag to rent the Conservatory of Flowers doesn’t even begin to cover it when you factor in contingent costs.
Early on we started to look for information on pricing a wedding in the Bay Area and what we found surprised and shocked us, both in the paucity of data, and in the lack of specificity. Even asking vendors directly what things cost wasn’t always a good way to get a straight answer, even on a historical or “how about your last wedding?” basis. The best data we were able to get early on came from a dated issue of San Francisco Magazine which outlined the broad pricing of a wedding held just down the peninsula in Half Moon Bay, and the figures there were a roll-up/ballpark style accounting, not of the detailed variety we were hoping for. It seems that the entire wedding industry is designed to “help” brides and grooms avoid the burden of making reasoned decisions by providing as little comparative data as possible. Asking friends what they’d paid for their weddings was much more helpful, and several were willing to share all the numbers with us (if you know me, don’t hesitate to ask for ours, but I won’t be publishing them here).
We got to thinking about why such little data was available, and we came up with several mutually re-enforcing theories:
- Most people lack experience. People (hopefully) get married once, or at least very few times in their lives. As a result, personal experience regarding how the market works for marriage services is concentrated in the hands and heads of “wedding professionals” of various sorts.
- The financial reality has shifted. In a time when the fetishization of weddings could hardly accelerate faster, the basic structure of who pays for weddings is shifting. Fundamental demographic shifts are contributing to more people marrying later in life, often when they are as (or more) affluent than their parents. The result is a system tuned to the old reality of weddings funded by relatively well-heeled parents and based on large-scale family participation to send off the new couple with all the furnishings they wouldn’t likely have as very-young singles or students. The new reality is that many of these newer, older couples don’t need things and that they’ll be paying for whatever it is they chose to do out of their own pockets. In the old system, it was a simple matter of the child saying “I want” and the parents either obliging or demurring, whereas the new reality is an odd combination of pent-up dreams, financial independence, and fewer requirements on family support. The market used to be loathe to provide direct information because it could use children acting as children as a wedge in purchasing decisions. In the new scenario, it pays for the wedding industry to encourage fetishization so as to emotionally load decisions. It has to if it’s to overcome the rational side of successful mid-life couples. In either case, it’s not in the interests of the wedding industry to make pricing information easy to come by. If it did, reasonable people could compute margins and say “excuse me?” much more. The goal now isn’t to treat young-adults as children in the presence of parental figures who control the purse strings, it’s to induce them to behave like children of own volition.
- Emotional loading, one-off appeals, and rationalizations. The tripe that passes for “wedding information” invariably begins with threadbare and transparent emotional entreaties along the lines of “it’s the most important day of your life…” and “you only get married once…”. These appeals to the irrational are everywhere in the wedding industry. In fact, you know you’re in “weddingland” when instead of talking about the thing you’re trying to buy, the sale starts with fluffy discussions of how special it all is…gimme an effing break. There are billions of people on the planet, and a giant percentage of them get married. Clearly, it’s not “special”…indeed, isn’t the whole point that you’re entering into an institution larger than oneself? That you’re making a compact with another person to join your lives in front of a community which values that relationship so highly, and which has such numbers, that it has enshrined marriage in law and custom? I digress. What’s important to know here is that no matter how little you think you care about the color of the napkins at the reception, you’ll find that as soon as you’re actually presented with the choice, you suddenly care. And as it relates to your wedding to this person whom you love, you really don’t want to screw the decision up. It’s not rational, but you can’t escape it. In this void of self-awareness and emotional helplessness an entire industry lies in wait. Do not under-estimate emotional loading.
What to do?
After several emotionally draining conversations about relatively trivial decisions it became very obvious that our best chance to survive the process was to either elope or to find ways to make fewer decisions. We opted for the latter although I now firmly believe that any consenting set of adults can and should be fully excused for choosing the elopement route.
At one point we thought that a professional might be able to help us reduce the number of decisions we’d be faced with, so we interviewed wedding planners. We discovered quickly that the job of wedding planners isn’t to help remove the burden of planning the wedding you might plan for yourself, but rather to help couples make their weddings “different” by giving them alternate sets of choices. From custom-designed invitations to finding locations which are off the beaten path, the modern bride apparently wants their entry into the grand institution of marriage to be exactly like everyone else’s, only slightly different in ways that either show off their affluence, taste, or “individuality”. Invariably, these people tend not to have great taste, so I imagine a large chunk of the planner’s job is to help couples avoid the worst-of-the-worst, but as with interior decorators, good help can’t save a bad client. More to the point, we weren’t looking to be “different”…we were looking to get hitched and be classy about it. The disturbing language used by some of them about “their vendors” also weirded us out. The implication that there were special relationships between some of the planners and some of the vendors seemed to be both a potentially good thing but also fraught with conflicts of interest. At no point did any of the planners we interviewed offer to describe their cost and margin structures with “their vendors” or in detail explain why we should use an opaque structure like that, even when asked directly. That seemed a very bad sign. No planner.
Our hopes of getting professional help dashed, we needed a new way to reduce the number of decisions and we needed to figure out the levers of cost very quickly. Without much trouble, we decided that our best hopes were to find a low-work venue for the reception and to tightly control the guest list. We set a hard limit of 40 people, and stuck to it. That was gut-wrenching for both of us as it meant that many of our favorite people wouldn’t be invited. No aunts and uncles, very few of our good friends from years past, and only immediate family. Part of the complication here is that the people you need to witness the “getting hitched” part of the wedding aren’t necessarily the same people you want to party with (and vice versa), but the wedding format forces you to choose both at once. We had to tell close friends and family that they weren’t invited, and every time we did, it re-started a discussion about him or her or them. Every cut or addition to the list was painful and hard, but we stuck to our guns. Our marriage is worth not going into debt for. We had 40 guests at the wedding, and we were grateful to have every single person there, if sad that we couldn’t accommodate more.
The other major decision that helped us wrestle the process to the ground was to hold the reception in a restaurant. While perhaps not the most romantic of locations, we knew ourselves enough to know that we valued having good food at the reception more than a lovely setting. The logistics of a restaurant reception are also much simpler. No 3rd-party caterer to coordinate with the venue, no half-warmed-over appetizers…the food would be done right and the room already more-or-less in shape for hosting events (thus reducing the amount of decorating needed). We also worked with the event coordinator at Harris’ to make sure that all the logistics were in place, but those turned out to be minimal (mostly deliveries and starting times). No protracted discussions about chairs and tables and colors: we wanted it to look classy and they obliged. Who’s gonna ever remember or care that your table cloths were in “your colors”? Certainly not our friends (and that’s why we love ‘em dearly).
Somewhere along the line, we also decided that tradition had a place, and that place was to make things easier. Where tradition didn’t do that, we threw it under the bus. No bridesmaids and groomsmen; why would you do that do your friends anyway? Not having a wedding party removed the need for a rehearsal, and therefore a rehearsal dinner became optional. We ditched the idea of pre-arranged seating at the reception, not even a “head table”. We have 40 of our favorite people in a room together, if they can’t find interesting and fun people to hang out with, well we invited the wrong people.
Tradition did help us simplify some decisions, like clothing. Dress? Straight-forward, classy, elegant (from Jin Wang). The tux? From my tailor, who already had my measurements on file and had instructions to make the suit and shirt as traditional as possible. The hardest part was finding a sized, untied bow tie. We tried nearly every high-end mens clothier in San Francisco and finally found that only Wilkes Bashford has the good goods. Don’t even bother with Brooks Brothers or Saks Men’s or the various “formalwear” stores….all you’ll find there are the nearly-disposable hardware-in-back numbers. We were also able to lean on tradition for the invitations, having decided that we couldn’t screw up too badly by having Crane’s do the job. It was a bit more stressful (and expensive) than either of us had planned on that count, but eventually the product was classic. I’ll save our experiences as Tiffany’s for another post (hint: tradition didn’t help with that one).
For photographers, we sorted through zillions of websites and called each of the ones that looked good. In the end, we found a good local photographer who has been doing this for 20 years and it showed, in a good way. Similarly with flowers, we found a reputable professional who was no-nonsense and laid our fate in their hands to great effect. As a last-minutes thing we decided to try to contact the Tipsy Typsy Trio who we’d heard while hanging out a month or so before at Enrico’s in North Beach. They were available, and suddenly we had a band for the reception. The moral of the story? Where possible, work directly with professionals who will treat you as functioning adults and not as romance-addled blank checks.
We learned the hard way that process of wedding planning is designed to reduce you to feeling about the process instead of thinking clearly about it. We fought back by doing much of it together as a team, finding ways to reduce the number of choices we were presented with, brutally prioritizing what we found most important, and not letting anything in the process of getting married throw us from the goal of being happily married. Time will tell if we made the right choices, but I can gratefully say that we’re both happy and relieved with how it turned out in nearly every aspect.