All of a sudden, the pressure to pull off a carefully orchestrated weekend to impress our guests melted away. Instead, we’re left with a deep sense of appreciation for what truly matters.
Having to scale back plans for the big day was actually a relief for some
The Star’s Joanna Chiu on how the pandemic put her upcoming wedding — and planning for her ‘perfect day’ — into perspective.
VANCOUVER— My wedding is a month away, and I’m not on a crash diet. I haven’t peppered my bridesmaids with instructions on exactly how they should look and behave on the Big Day.
Today, I went to a dollar store to pick up some things for the small backyard wedding ceremony we’ll be having in lieu of a reception with more than a hundred guests, which was our original plan.
I bought jars of hand sanitizer and $1.25 napkins in shades of yellow, green and blue. They are nowhere near the hues of our “official wedding colours” that I chose after hours spent scouring Pinterest last year. But it doesn’t matter. When the COVID-19 pandemic struck Canada, it became clear that our wedding would have to be downsized or cancelled entirely. My first reaction? A wave of relief.
All of a sudden, the pressure to pull off a carefully orchestrated weekend to impress our guests melted away.
Instead, we’re left with a deep sense of appreciation for what truly matters.
My family is from Hong Kong, so I’ve been anxious about the outbreak since January. Fortunately, among my friends and family around the world, only a few have contracted the virus and they have since fully recovered. Some were planning to travel to Vancouver for the wedding. Now they’ll join via video call, and hopefully visit us next year for a belated party.
When my fiancé and I began planning our wedding, we were shocked at how expensive a mid-sized ceremony would be. The average Canadian salary is about $56,000 a year. The average cost of a wedding and honeymoon? A whopping $46,400.
As the months of planning went on, some things came to seem like necessities — such as a buffet of snacks, because it’s apparently rude to leave people a tad hungry between the ceremony and the dinner reception.
Former brides told me that spending money on directional signs was necessary. “Wouldn’t it be obvious where the ceremony and the reception are taking place?” I asked, “Why do I need beautiful wooden signs pointing to different sides of the open lawn?” (To be fair, people tend to have a few drinks at weddings and the signs probably wouldn’t have hurt.)
Even though I doled out tasks to my fiancé, at the end of the day, if we failed to fulfil expectations for the wedding, I knew it would be me and not him who would be judged. I had to be the one to make sure each detail was perfect, while juggling a full-time job and other responsibilities. No one seems to know where or when all these wedding rules came about. It’s likely a combination of cultural traditions and a brew of consumerist mythmaking from magazines, TV shows and movies.
The awkward thing is that as the “must-haves” add up, most people can’t invite all the friends and relatives they want to be part of their special day. Families spend way more on one day than is reasonable, and become saddled with debt or need to live thriftily for years to recover financially.
Doesn’t all of this sound silly in the midst of a pandemic that has killed more than 300,000 people, sickened more than four million people worldwide, and burdened millions more — especially communities of colour — with economic hardships?
If there’s one silver lining to the horrendous dark cloud that is COVID-19, it’s that the crisis has crystallized how some things are more important than others. Love comes in many forms, and if you are lucky to have people in your life whom you hold dear, then that’s all you need.
It seems that a significant proportion of Canadians are doing away with the concept of the big wedding entirely, and have decided to get married on the same date as planned in small, pared-down ceremonies. Others still want to have wedding receptions later, but have put off planning for them.
Kit Chan, a Vancouver-based wedding officiant, says that in the past two weeks, about two dozen couples have inquired about her services and requested socially distanced elopement ceremonies.
Elopements aren’t about running off to wed in secrecy anymore.
“Elopements allow couples to focus on the vows to each other and it’s very, very intimate,” Chan said, adding that the term now also describes small-group wedding celebrations involving close family and friends.
I reached out to Joyce Tee, a nurse who got married in her apartment last weekend, and broadcast the ceremony to guests on Zoom. For decor, all they did was arrange some flowers and plants on their living room table.
The flowers were gifts from their family, and the only other people who attended in person were an officiant and two witnesses. It was beautiful.
Right after the legal ceremony, the newlyweds made champagne toasts and cut their cake, all while chatting with their excited guests on Zoom.
“We chose not to delay getting married, because we could not predict when the pandemic would come to an end. We both felt ready to start our lives together as a married couple, and we did not want to hold our marriage plans due to COVID-19,” Tee told me.
“The party can wait later, as we prioritize the health and safety of our loved ones. We were both happy that our family and friends were able to witness our marriage online.”
So, once all this is over, and we go back to our normal lives, will the toxic parts of wedding culture return?
Will brides keep starving themselves to look “their best” according to social expectations of how women should look on their wedding day?
Women are also under pressure to meticulously oversee event planning while keeping a careful lid on their emotions.
That’s because if we express an iota of anger or frustration, we may be branded with the pernicious “bridezilla” stereotype. Worrying about coming across as demanding means we’re likely to just do all the work ourselves — and that’s an awful start to an egalitarian marriage.
Intimate weddings were already becoming more common, and after the pandemic subsides, Chan thinks it’s a trend that will continue.
“Because of the economic impacts from the crisis, people don’t want to spend as much as before. And everything in the world is so complicated that people might want to simplify things as much as possible,” she said.
Of course, this doesn’t mean big ceremonies and celebrations will become a thing of the past.
Those involved with the wedding industry, such as chefs and planners and photographers would welcome the business during the inevitable economic downturn in the coming months and years.
For myself, it would be nice to bid good riddance to all the social and cultural pressures to put on the perfect day.