In Progress


I've resisted writing about my wedding for a long time, but recently gave in on the basis that I'm in the thick of this particular life episode and henceforth no longer feel qualified to write about anything else. I certainly never wanted to be typecast as the kind of girl to turn this whole soirée into a 365-part social media documentary, but given the type of person I am, it takes a certain amount of effort not to fall into those patterns. You roll with the punches after all. 

We've made it pretty far with our levels of patience and dignity still intact, which I am fairly grateful for given the high correlation between wedding planning and stress-induced self destruction. And what an efficient character building drill it is. Not a day goes by where I don't appreciate the merits of compromise and kindness, and often I feel stretched, challenged and rewarded all at the same time. Also, there really is nothing like attempting to plan a wedding that forces you to be endearingly realistic about life. #Adulting.

Pretty early on, Syafiq and I established that we would remain steadfast that nothing about our wedding would be about going through the motions. We'd committed to sieving out the meaningful from the merely customary and stripping away the unnecessary lavishness to retain only the significant. Sure, it's supposed to be the biggest night of your life and I wouldn't ever undermine the importance of the day you sign your life off to another human being, for better or worse. But you don't need to justify that in ways that will devastate your bank account. The pressure to do that is so visceral and real that we occasionally take the other by the shoulders to shake it out of each other.

Also, I will spontaneously combust if I see another 'This Is How Much It Really Costs to Get Married' article citing unavoidable expenses sufficient for a heart transplant.

Thing is, the wedding industry thrives on enterprising efforts to amplify insecurities and create gratuitous fancies, each with the potential to make or break unless one were to throw money liberally at the cause. You would fall so comfortably into the trap of believing that they have your interests at heart! A couple of weeks ago, I was told by a hapless peddler that the wedding dress I had in mind was too simple and would 'make me look like a bridesmaid’. This was accompanied by a lengthy argument for the merits of the classic mountain-of-tulle wedding dress, which naturally cost almost two thousand dollars…to rent. How precocious it is to have to pay so much for a dress with no designer affiliation whatsoever that you can’t even keep!

Said bridesmaid comment made me second guess the validity of my preference until I was mercifully reminded (by me) that I could wear a cotton maxi dress to my wedding and still it wouldn't have compromised my legitimacy as a bride. I came so close to selling out! The thought of it makes me shudder. Cue the importance of sticking to your guns.

With seven months still to go, we teeter between feeling either like we’re halfway there or not at all. But our favourite accomplishment by far is probably our engagement shoot.

Engagement shoot = a pair of filthy words. Oh, the sheer volume of options at your disposal; destination shoots, white horses, an onsite hair and makeup cadre or life-sized floral arrangements are the least of it. If you want photos that look like they were stripped right from the pages of Harper’s Bazaar, adjust your budget trackers accordingly - but our biggest priority was for our photos to embody the quintessence of our relationship. We didn't want to spend thousands of dollar; we just wanted the photos to capture who we are. So we got spectacularly resourceful, managed to pull off our shoot without too much fuss, and are massively in love with our photos. Beyond happy to be a vestige of hope and sharer of advice for anyone else seeking to do the same.

Our bond and individual personalities radiate from every photo in all its fun, goofy, tender and sickeningly delightful glory, and I adore how it captures the heart of us. So there will likely be blog posts at some other juncture detailing the chronicle of the whole shoot, and possible also more photos of us prancing around with balloons and blowing confetti into each other’s faces (true story).

Till next time. You do you! Rachel, out.

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