Back in early Spring 2020, on the brink of global crisis, I was busy planning for my nuptials as whispers of the impending lockdown loomed over the city of London. My ‘wedding’ was quite the understatement — rather, it was a 20-minute proceeding one cloudy Wednesday morning, attended by only a couple of witnesses — a far cry from elaborate celebrations people generally envision. Following our low-key ceremony at the Twicketnam registrar’s office, where a civil servant with a tilted tie solemnised our union under the indifferent gaze of the bureaucracy, we relished our breakfast nearby. I chose French toast, considering it indeed was a remarkable day. Along with us were our two witnesses, close confidants whom we had entrusted with our nuptial secret. They gifted us their presence and signatures. The meetup ended on a warm note, following which we got back to our daily life. It was just as we had hoped – placid and undramatic.
Despite the rising trend of discreet engagements, minimalistic weddings, and celebrities like Anya Taylor-Joy keeping their marital status under wraps for years, our wedding, I am aware, stands as a dreadful scenario for many would-be-brides. For those who dream of their perfect wedding day, for those who scroll through the internet, scrutinising locations and photographers, or for anyone who views a wedding as an accomplishment, a sacred act. Our decision to tie the knot was a four-month old resolution. It was crucial to me that my life’s control, if I were ever to be on death’s doorstep due to an accidental encounter with a rash cyclist, ought to be in his hands.
During our vows, emergency exit signs cast a pale glow over the doors, creating an eerily casual atmosphere. One could almost expect someone to waltz in at any moment to use the copier. We had spent weeks post our secret ‘yes’, taken on a chilly December night at a Dublin eatery, pondering over various wedding conceptions. But it rapidly became evident that the announcement of our engagement would usher in the obligation to meet the preset expectations of a ‘proper’ wedding.
In our area, the wedding trade is largely dominated by women. The concept of being the focal point of an event that requires a great deal of planning and attention to detail is somewhat terrifying for me. That’s not to say that some women don’t find immense enjoyment in arranging their nuptials, anticipating the joyous occasion for months, or even years, in advance. But, I am just not cut from that cloth. It felt as if I would be taking on all the stress and hard work just to appease others, none of whom were my chosen life partner. My partner, despite his organisational aptitude, was equally unenthusiastic about the task. Recent statistics estimate the standard Irish nuptials to cost €26,000 – a sum of money I believe could be better utilised, particularly when many individuals in their 30s struggle to afford a family and secure stable housing.
As non-believers, professing our commitment to each other amidst an audience seemed unnecessary to us. The people in our lives were fully aware of our mutual bond. Furthermore, we didn’t view our union as being somehow elevated by legally binding documents and the words of a registrar. The fanfare simply wasn’t for us.
Despite the profound privacy of long-term partnership, weddings are in stark contrast, being incredibly public affairs. This disparity was a difficulty for us to reconcile.
When we informed my mother-in-law, via telephone call, about our elopement during the initial phase of lockdown, she was overcome with emotion. However, my husband gently reassured her that this was our correct path and we feared her well-meaning but potentially overbearing involvement if she had known about our engagement. As anticipated, she conceded she would’ve insisted on doing things her way. And, when we broke the news to my reticent Irish sibling, he simply congratulated us in his typically understated way. He perhaps felt a sense of relief, no longer bearing the responsibility of being my next of kin.
Whilst in every saga of love the personal story remains intensely private, marriage ceremonies are undeniably public affairs. For some, like us, the disparity was challenging to reconcile. The mounting expenses, the endless time investment and the intricate complications that come with orchestrating such large gatherings involving relatives and friends can be overwhelming. Be it the continuous family feud between Aunt Mildred and cousin Margaret or dealing with Uncle John’s alcoholism or, even worse, extending an invite to all colleagues, including the much-disliked Debbie from the accounts team. Perhaps even the unexpected claim from a long-lost school friend, deeming herself worthy of being the bridesmaid. It’s hardly surprising that amidst an evolving Ireland and a rapidly changing world, a growing number of millennials and Gen Z are bidding farewell to traditional wedding norms, leaning towards something that’s a tad less extravagant, far more intimate and, above all, simpler. After all, embarking on the journey of marriage shouldn’t be burdened with stress and anxiety.