When my husband and I got engaged, we had no money in the bank. Honestly not a penny. Clearly, this wasn’t a wedding to combine assets: we did it because we wanted to gather all our loved ones before everyone was too busy, too far away, or too dead to be there. When we decided to do it, it was January, freezing cold, and we were all drunk. Two weeks later we were sitting in the same seat at the same bar – drinking the same pét-nat wine, because our generation would rather spend $ on a bottle than Not saving for a mortgage – we sent an email to everyone we knew telling them to save the date: July of the same year. why not?
We all lived our twenties, paycheck to paycheck, and between us we had gigs and club nights, big parties, albums, Dramas were made, and the (lack of) budget was always somehow addressed without any savings in the bank. How difficult can a wedding be?
A year ago, I published a book asking if we should (here we, I mean Everyone) is even married? This is a colossal waste of money, time, energy and imagination. If all the brides and discerning gay men of the world put the same energy and creativity into tackling climate change, we’d see a brighter future. Yet here we are, wrestling with how to have a wedding with no money because of the growing guest list (by now – February – we’re playing RSVP yeses, which makes us sound pop, but really just expresses our desire for chaos).
As I was writing this book, I learned from interviews with some of the world’s most sought-after wedding planners that people love if a wedding reflects the couple’s values. We’ve all grown up in London’s gay scene – we’ve nurtured our community and been nurtured by our community. And, even though marriage equality is in many ways a mirage for said community, we wanted our wedding to feel like a queer community event. Someone who everyone can feel loved; someone who feels romantic, sexy and fun.
