The Wedding Thing

I spend a tremendous amount of time at pinterest. A fantastic website which allows users to gather and curate collections of images from all over the Internet in organized “boards”, more so, the way the wesbite is organized – material links back to the sources, allowing us to find things and follow links, as well as attributing things pretty responsibly.

Most people on pinterest appear to be women, and most people appear to have created some kind of “wedding” board. Even I have one. What I’ve noticed about weddings in general and I’ve realized this from looking at wedding boards is that people, usually women, seem very concerned with weddings. Whether they are having one, had one or not.  An incredible amount of organization, planning, money and plain old effort goes into this event.

Suddenly, people have to find the right dress, the right bouquet, the right decor, table settings, food, lighting, music, the whole aesthetic has to work together, to achieve a visual, emotive, and  stylistic goal. From the save-the-dates to the favors, it all has to live up to this high standard. While, I understand that the wedding indicates a fundamental moment in life, a change, a new chapter, not to the mention the uniting of two people who are apparently in love (barf), but why all the effort all of a sudden?

Why put all this effort into one day, when during the rest of, well, your life, you’re throwing on whatever comes to hand, eating whatever is there, settling for what’s cheap or worse, what’s easy? Now, I am not suggesting that we can all, or even want to put serious money into our daily lives, I’m talking about intent here. I’m talking about thought. About thinking a little bit more about how you want thinks to roll.  If you think you will, or want to, or have given your wedding day so much deliberation, so much thought, surely you could apply a modicum of that to your daily life? Trust me, every day will feel more like a wedding day.

I want to feel like a princess when I get married!

Bad news: I want to feel like a princess every fucking day.

Maybe this is indicates that I am an uncommonly particular human being, perhaps the word “high maintainence” might come into play, but I’m not asking anyone else to participate. It’s the difference between thinking about what you want your world to be like. It’s thinking I’m pretty into.

Your wardrobe and shopping deserves the same consideration as your wedding gown.

Your home deserves the same thought, taste and cohesion as your reception space and ceremony space, even your getaway car.

Your blog, Facebook, web  presence deserves what your save-the-dates and invitations get.

I know it seems like a snobby, demandingly tall order, but what about just a little bit of weddingness every day?

(and yes, I do think of my blog like I would a wedding invation, and yes, I’ll probably use “fuck” there too…)


For The Love Of Handbags…

One of my mother’s favorite anecdotes about my early childhood is my first “bag crush”. As she remembers it I was maybe 3 or 4, I don’t remember it, but then I don’t remember learning to speak either.

We were on holiday in South Africa, and as she and I walked into a store (probably Woolworths) there was a display which included a white, round, shiny, pleather, crossbody bags with a multi-colored design on one side. I walked directly up to this bag, touched it and said,

“Oh, mommy, look at this…” in awe. When my mother asked what I was so interested in, I responded, “mommy, this bag is perfect!” She asked why, and then apparently I, in depth, told her all the ways and with what I would wear this perfect bag. I told her I would carry my pencils, my doll, and my notebook in it. I got the bag and it was indeed perfect.
I have since met many perfect bags. Many times I have walked into a store and immediately fallen in love with a bag. Sometimes these bags come home with me, sometimes they don’t. But I can say almost every bag I’ve ever bought has had a moment of being perfect. I’ve often “sold” friends on bags based on the love theory. If you see a bag, and you feel like you can’t live without it, you shouldn’t run the risk, you may very well die, or at least be struck ill. I’ve had sleepless nights worrying about whether I should or should not procure a bag, hours of thought into how to construct a base, or strap.

I am in love with handbags. I love clothes, scarves, shoes, and jewelry. I love making, buying and revamping all these things, but handbags, I am IN love with them.  I believe that a handbag can change a whole outfit, whole day, my mood, how people will respond to me, everything. The right bag will make the whole world flow in sync magically and the wrong bag will ruin my day. I am in love with all sorts of bags: big ones, small ones, hobos, totes, satchels, clutches, cross bodies, and in all sorts of colors and materials.  I have had love affairs with many bags over my life, classic and futuristic (I had a light blue inflatable backpack in middle school, and slaughtered many a plushie animal for the faux fur.)

But don’t get me wrong, I am in no way a bag snob, I love beautiful bags and I can practically sniff out certain ones, but one of my favorite things is designing and making my own bags. It’s where I find my greatest sense of stylistic development occurring. I feel like my desire to make comes from my, anti-shopping mother and desire to browse, hunt and buy is from my shopping-friendly father. I think they both think my perpetual bag crushes are silly. (“Mom…I’m in Puerto Rico…yes, it’s nice here…yeah, the weather is beautiful…yes, they are fine. Mom…there’s this bag…it’s on sale…but Mom…it’s turquoise…” I definitely had this phone conversation in a Coach store.)

So if you’re in a room with me and you find me staring at your handbag, it’s not a criminal urge bubbling up, it’s more likely me fighting the design to pet your bag.