on being a feminist bride, and other awesome stuff I write on other people's blogs. yeah.

image from Juju mama

A post I wrote on Mia Freedman's site, Mamma Mia regarding feminist brides and virginal white, being given away and promising to 'love honour and obey'.

The question posed by Mia was something along the lines of, "were you a feminist bride"... and Mia cited an example of her own interpretation of traditional marriage rites, her bridesmaid carried Mia's son down the aisle, as a fair rejection of the 'well, I'm not a virgin' assumption from days past.

My response:

Yeah, I’d like to think I was a feminist bride, even if it wasn’t a conscientious choice to be ‘a feminist bride’ – I just wanted to do things our way.


So… we got married at home, in our backyard, without about 70 or so guests (and that was a massive number blow out). We stood around and had beers with our mates before the ceremony, and then the celebrant asked everyone to assemble outside and we came out together, me, N and my daughters. It was lovely. He wore black jeans, a shirt and volleys, I wore a dress my mother and I made from black fabric and some gorgeous white lace – not what I had originally intended to wear! (I wanted to wear jeans and a tshirt!) But what we created from some fabrics that we found and loved.

We catered ourselves, asked a few friends to make some desserts.

We didn’t have rings. Neither of us are that in to jewellery, so it was a pointless exercise, exchanging rings.

We asked each of our dads to read some hilarious excerpts from a couple of books a friend gave us, ‘dont’s for wives’ and ‘donts for husbands’.

In place of the traditional giving away, the celebrant asked our friends and family if they would support us in our lives together, to which there was a resounding, and heart warming ‘YES!’

There was not a hint of ‘honour and obey’, rather, heartfelt words, and “do you promise to be a fabulous husband”… I laughed and joked the whole way through… it was a beautiful, glorious interpretation of a traditional rite that I had all my life advocated doing away with.

OMG, and the flowers! So N had brought home stacks of fluffy white chrysanthemums from his work, and we had lots of vases of chrysanthemum spread around the house. It was beautiful… I ended up with a bouquet (!) because there was 3 gorgeous roses out the front of my parents house, from a bush called ‘Julia’s rose’ (my sister’s name, I think I gave it to them when she was born?) that the night before I asked my mum if she could cut and bring over for a bouquet.

And we didn’t have a wedding cake – instead a dessert table. Cos I love dessert. So it was amazing, beautiful. A great day had by all. The whole thing was very mutually planned and organised too – I think that’s significant. Because I’m a terrible decision maker and not prepared to shoulder all/the bulk of the responsibility for what is supposed to be *our* day. Plus, obv N wanted a say in it, to us that seemed completely normal but I understand that often, brides don’t want their groom involved at all.

AND WE DIDN’T HAVE BUCK’S/HEN’S NIGHTS. Again, a mutual decision, but this whole ‘last night of freedom’ thing is bullshit, insulting and demeaning to the commitment we were making (and had already made) to each other.



And… I read offbeat bride and East side bride - both fairly religiously, as great blogs that were incredibly reassuring for knowing that it was ok to do things our way, because the important part of the day was not how the photos looked, or whether my shoes or hair or *everything* was perfect, but rather, the vows. The presence of friends and family and the commitment that we were fortunate enough to be able to make to each other.

Incidentally, I have read in a lot of places (particularly offbeat bride, because that's where I frequently read stuff) comments women made about their justification for changing their name being that they 'were not particularly attached to their surname' and that they 'wanted to have the same surname as their children'.
I didn't change my name, never had any intention of doing so, and nor was it expected of me by either my husband or my family. Why? Because I like my surname, I'm quite attached to it because I've lived with it for 31 years, and wasn't about to sacrifice this for another (albeit nice) name in honour of a cultural tradition I don't endorse.
And... I *do* have the same name as my children, because they have my name. If we had more, they would also have my name, it's not really a question for either of us, and as such I wonder if the comments that women make with regard to 'not being particularly attached to their surnames' come from the assumption that they will change their name as they get older?
I don't care if people know or not know that N and I are married; that wasn't the purpose of the exercise. So in this sense, name changing seems like a superfluous exercise.

It's not that I don't understand, I just don't agree.

(via ffffound)

N's mum offered to make a croquembouche. I appreciate this offer, I love profiteroles, however - this wasn't what we'd had planned to have at our wedding. Certainly not as the cake. I had hoped for pavlova, pineapple upside down cake (one of my favourites), tiramisu and I don't know. Initially, N's sister offered to make cupcakes (she has a cupcake business) but, well, I don't do cupcakes.
Retrospectively it occurs to me that the cupcake offer was for a cupcake wedding cake. I dislike these even more than the whole cupcake craze!

So, I am practicing saying no.

In other news, N and I sewed a bit of bunting on the weekend. I had the erm, fortune of having N's mother help me initially... I've got to try and not be completely ungrateful for every single offer of help that she gives me, because, well, she quite possibly just wants to help. But the insistance that I should do something a particular way (and not the way I had intended) is irritating.

Ergh.

(also via ffffound)


I graduate on Wednesday. I went shopping to find something to wear under my academic gown (it is open at the front). This was much more difficult than I imagined - and the whole experience left me feeling bloated, tubby, and generally unattractive.
Great.

So the excitement of graduating is damped by not only the fact that I'm not actually graduating (I graduate from my 2 degrees and then graduate again once I've completed my honours thesis) but also some pretty funky feelings of low self esteem.

And G & Y lost the camera my parents gave them last november for their birthday.
Awesome.

Dress shopping, the actual factual event.

Went in to town with my mother on Saturday to look for dresses and stuff. Not that it needed to be a sappy 'mother daughter' experience (saying I was dress shopping with my mother conjures this image) but rather, I dig her no-nonsense approach to shopping, her practicality, and her creativity. Also, she's one of the few people I know who isn't kidding when she suggests we need to lunch at a licensed venue, because shopping is, well, horrible.
So after surveying some overpriced (are they actually over priced? Really and truly, I mean, "out of my price range") dresses at some cute little shops on Rundle St, and the pain of knowing that not only was most of what I saw in Miss Gladys Sym Choon unaffordable, but also wouldn't look as awesome on me as it did on a gorgeously tall model, we made our way to a couple of fabric stores to see what we could sew.
We found some gorgeous antique-looking ivory coloured french lace, sketched a pattern to suit and went through pattern books to find a pattern to match what we'd drawn. Pattern found, we needed something to put under the lace. My mother was initially suggesting some gorgeous cream coloured fabric, very light with gorgeous drape, but it was transparent. Now, I accept needing to wear a slip of some description under the dress, but this was too sheer. We found something similar in black, and realised that the lace on the black looked freaking gorgeous. The dress will have a deep v neckline, empire waist and fall to around the knee (just above or just below? Not sure). The pattern also has gathering around the bust in the centre where the v meets the waistline, which I'll finish with a brooch of some kind. I hope.

Meanwhile, here's some inspiration for me to go running:

from here.

Man, this would all be so much easier if I was like, the seventh wife, or something

Because then no one would expect anything of me. You know.


Of course, I jest.


So, an almost completely fruitless day of op-shopping made me realise that for the money I spend on a second hand dress, and altering it to suit, I could just make a freaking new dress. Turns out that, as usual, my mum was right all along. Ergh. I hate it when she does that.
The trouble is, I'm not finding anything in the pattern books (well, websites, but you know, same diff) that particularly inspires me. And that's kind of the whole point of making your own dress, right? Of doing something completely off-the-wall in it's uniquely you kind of way. (Or doing something really boring and normal, should that be what you were hoping to achieve...)


So, here are some images for inspiration. Credits are below.


I dig the style of this one. But needs sleeves. And more length. And a model that isn't practising her best farrah fawcett (and therefore making me want to punch her in her stupid perky little nose)

from here

The dress below is cute. Not sure about the second layer of lace, but I deffo dig the sleeves. Flower can go though. Model's cutesy looks are option, ie piss off and go do your homework or something.

from Bridal Bliss Designs on Etsy

And this one, without the hippy flower shit:

from hippiebride on Etsy

So then, if all these dresses were to like, do naughty dress things to each other, and then make a demented, but curiously beautiful and appealing dress baby, it'd look like this:

from English Dept on Etsy

Except without the price tag, which was like, $650, and poss with a symmetrical hem. Not sure about the layers, either. Still figuring that out.

I pinched this off a private forum, the OffBeat Bride tribe. No linkies, sorry, but it was someone's inspiration board, so NFI who the originals are from.

Finally, the dress in the top left corner - without all it's disgusting lace overlay on the skirt, minus the train and sans the length, well, I love it.


I really am a bit in love with the empire waist line thing, in spite of its sappy Jane Austen "Mister Daaaarcyyy" implications. I tend to think of it as having more, erm, Bronte sister inspirations - only, shorter, thus making it more suitable for wandering through those moors. Or whatever it was people did in moors, I don't know.




(Just quietly, Austen novels have their place, you know, and while it belongs NOWHERE near a film containing Keira Knightly, I have enjoyed the odd J. Austen - ie, all- novel. However, you simply CANNOT tell Oscar Wilde that).


Last dress picture -- love the beaded gold bit, but I can't imagine it'd look nearly as nice on me. I'm much too short, it'd just chop me in half. Plus, who wants to draw attention away from my fabourly sequinned drag queen shoes?

from pink galoshes

And it's late and I'm nearly asleep on account of it being 2 a-freaking-m. Night peeps. Or myself, as I am the one reading this.

'your mum' jokes don't work so well on your kids

N's parents came around and 'helped clean'. Now, while I accept my house is untidy (cleaning and folding washing isn't a priority for me, OR anyone else in this house) the whole experience was...demoralising at best. N's mother made a great deal of the amount of clutter and dust everywhere - while doing little to actually resolve any of these issues.
I endured it by rearranging my bedroom, cleaning out my wardrobe (necessary - I could barely close the doors) and vacuuming under my bed. My dad helpfully replaced the broken tap and leaky showerhead, and my little brother helped paint the back room with N and his dad. Oh, to have been one of them.

So, I spent international women's day cleaning my house (and refusing to feel guilty for not being a better housekeeper) in preparation for an upcoming wedding. Ironic, no? I'm still trying to scrub the stench of horrible, hateful anti-feminist behaviour from my body (fortunately, I can now do this in the bath - thanks dad!). Might have to cut my hair shorter, or something.


At any rate, my mother, who is an expert on such things, says that wearing a white, repurposed wedding wedding dress will look like I'm not taking the whole thing seriously. Of course, the white wedding dress could also look too earnest, and I'm starting to feel that I lose either way. Thus, she informs me the only thing I can convincingly wear with my sooper-dooper-awesome shoes ("drag queen shoes, as my mum called them) is black. Minimal, a-line, v-neck black.
Now, rationally I know this, but when shopping patterns I found little that really jumped out at me and said, "OMG WEAR ME WHEN YOU GET WEDDINGED" ... .hence I am still looking.
Knowing, of course, that I will more than likely resort to the black dress.

Meanwhile, still clinging to hope, I also like this

Maybe I SHOULD just weare jeans...

Man, this whole dress business is a lot harder than I realised.
At some point I got it in my head that it'd be really cool to wear a vintage wedding dress that had been repurposed to look funky and edgy, while still maintaining its cool retro look.
Inspiration came from here:

from the Lynns Rags' Etsy Shop, unfortunately a one of a kind she made (and sold) back in 2008 or something.

However, when I contacted her about this awesome dress, she said she also does cute wedding-ish dresses from new petticoats - such as this one:

Which is an interesting avenue I haven't pursued. I've done an etsy alchemy request thingo, which, fingers crossed, will come up with something awesome.. failing that I'm planning on hitting the op shops hard over the coming weeks.

Trouble is, now I've got this idea in my head, I can't get it out!

Seems I'm not alone in drawing hand-made love notes as invitations. Well, kind of. Flush Designs used a collage of the love notes given between her and her (now) husband as the basis for her order of service. It's gorgeous, like a glimpse in to some very personal moments between them.

Awesome.


Slightly less sappy (and I suspect I like it a little more for that reason) are these ones, from Porterness on etsy:

Nothing more awesome than the truth. And kitty cats pimpin' cards. Awesome.