Like a million other little girls, I've dreamt of my wedding day all my whole entire life. Ever since I've known what a wedding was, I've been thinking about mine.
I can remember sneaking out of my bed when I was a little girl, early in the morning to play wedding with my Barbies. I only had one Barbie wedding dress that was kind of flat and ugly, but fortunately I had Cinderella Barbie's detachable poofy skirt to go over it and give it a nice ballgown look. I also had one veil that was tragically, the kind with the elastic headband that went across their forehead. But hey, Barbie can't not have a veil on her wedding day. Top that off with her glittery plastic shoes (that had a nasty habit of getting sucked up in the vacuum cleaner) and Barbie was set!
Her bridesmaids were various other Barbies, and unfortunately their dresses never matched, but which ever Barbie was the bride never seemed to mind. I only had one Ken doll and a Prince Charming doll, so they swapped off being the groom. The groom's tux was splendid; it was a glittery black number with a pale pink tuxedo shirt and shiny black shoes. Because I had twenty-something odd Barbies and only 2 Ken dolls, Ken and Prince Charming were the most brazen polygamists on the block. They each had several marriages with all of the Barbies.
And much like their TLC counterparts, they all lived in one big, pink Barbie Dream House. No, really I had a Barbie dream house that was cotton-candy pink with a neon blue textured roof. It had a front patio, a downstairs sitting room, a kitchenette, an upstairs bedroom complete with jacuzzi, and it even had a functional elevator. Barbie and Ken often consummated their marriage(s) on the pink plastic twin bed.
And of course, these frequent wedding ceremonies were always attended by their parents. My mom's retro Barbie and Ken doll always happily filled these roles; dutifully making the trek down from their cases in the upstairs closet. Vintage Barbie had interchangeable heads with different hairstyles, so that was always fun and in no way horrifying whatsoever to a young child. But she had wacky blue eyeshadow and the snooty look a true mother of the bride ought to have. Vintage Ken just complacently drove the pink Cadillac convertible.
I can distinctly remember doing this everyday of my adolescence until it was no longer cool to play with Barbies. So I packed them up and put them in the closet. But I never stopped loving weddings.
I can remember very, very distinctly the first wedding I went to. It was my piano teacher Michelle's wedding. She was Jewish, and she and her husband had a traditional ceremony, complete with the Chuppah, the Yarlmukes, and the stomping of the wine glass. It was the most exotic thing I had ever seen at eight years old. When they lifted them up on the chairs, it was wild. I was wearing a blue and cream floral print dress with dyed-to-match shoes and I was in heaven. I can remember the bride walking down the aisle, her veil being lifted, and the reception.
I was down at IU, miserable and majoring in journalism. I literally woke up one day and decided I wanted to be a wedding planner. I was never one to waste time when I wanted something, so I dropped all of my journalism classes, signed up for event planning classes, and set out with stars in my eyes. I didn't have a clue what I was doing...at all.
When I began working for my catering company, we used to cater to a facility downtown called the Mavris Arts and Event Center. Mavris is absolutely beautiful. Sealed hardwood floors, exposed brick walls, wooden beams wrapped with twinkly lights. It's right in the heart of downtown, so when you go outside or look out of any of the windows, you have a spectacular view of the city skyline. I can distinctly remember one wedding reception that I worked. It was a Saturday night, in the summer. Late June. the weather was sublime. Not too hot or humid, a slight breeze, and the night sky was full of a million billion stars. We took the trash out and I lingered outside for a minute. The dumpsters at that place are against a large brick wall, and you have to walk on sort of a sidewalk/ledge to get to them. If you lean up against the wall and look out, you have just a perfect view of the whole city. I took a deep breath of the summer air, and I was at peace. Everything was so wonderful right at that moment, and I never wanted it to end. And I knew. I knew that this was my city, and this was my calling. To plan beautiful weddings in Indianapolis, the city I loved. I've never had such a moment of mental clarity in my life. This is what I'm meant to do and this is where I'm meant to be. I never wanted that feeling to go away.
And so I will sit on my laptop late, late at night when I should be studying and sleeping, and look up venues in downtown Indianapolis. I'll research catering, linen companies, and bridesmaids dresses. Even though I don't have a boyfriend, I'll plan my wedding like it's coming up tomorrow. Because I love it. I love it all. Wedding stuff is like crack to me; I get bride magazines in the mail, I watch all of the wedding shows on TV, I belong to TheKnot.com. If any potential suitor knew all of this, he wouldn't run, he would sprint in the opposite direction. Because some girls are like that. Some just want to get married just to have the wedding. So that's why I plan. "Those who can't wed, plan," said Jennifer Lopez in The Wedding Planner. But it all just makes me so happy. Weddings make me so very happy, and that's all I need. All I need is to be happy with what I do and I'm set for life.
So that little girl who played with Barbies, the young girl, wide-eyed at her first wedding, and the ambitious college girl in the city are all rolled into one. It's a journey everyday, and I wouldn't change a minute of anything. It's nice sometimes to be reminded of why I'm where I am today.
It's another lovely summer night. I take one last breath of the summer air, and go back inside. One day, it will be my day. But until then, I'm alright.
Life can be grand. But only if you follow your centerpiece, buttercream, and champagne dreams. ;)
No comments:
Post a Comment