Wedding fuss-is it necessary?

by Andrea Birch

As I leafed through the Sunday UK newspapers on 18th May, they well full of photos and write-ups of the latest Royal wedding; that of Peter Phillips and Autumn Kelly.  The bride looked beautiful, the groom was dashing, and the guests all smiled cheesily for the cameras.

The journalists wrote about the outfits of some of the guests, the groom’s speech at the reception, the banquet that the 300 guests sat down to, and the blues band that provided the entertainment for the evening.  It all sounded so fairy tale-like!

I have been to many weddings and from the beginning I was swept up by the romance of it all.  I have been to weddings on beaches, in fine hotels, in a little wooden chapel, in a church that was built in the 1400s, and within the gorgeous settings of the Garden of the Sleeping Giant (my favourite).  I’ve been to Fijian weddings (tevutevu – I’ve shamelessly “borrowed” one of the 160 pillows as I had a stinking hangover when I rocked up); Indian weddings (top tip: never go with a French manicure if you plan on staying on for the meal which is to be eaten with fingers – I’m speaking from experience); an English wedding (set in the grounds of a manor and m’Lord was present); and a Kiwi wedding (bring on the mussels, roast leg of lamb and pavlova!). 

I am looking forward to two weddings I have been invited to in August – a Ghanian wedding (I’m still looking for an outfit with the boldest of prints so that I can fit in with the Ghanian contingent – how does pink on yellow on orange on purple on red sound?) and an Irish wedding (I am determined to do an Irish jig - Michael Flatley and the Lord of the Dance cast, be afraid, be very afraid).

I stressed the word was in the paragraph before the previous because nowadays I am starting to think of the celebrations which accompany weddings as over-the-top, outrageously expensive, and, in some instances, tacky.  (This is a completely personal opinion, and I can already see my name being dropped from a number of wedding guests lists).

First of all, and I really don’t mean to pick on the British Army lads, but why do you boys feel the need to wear your No.2s at your wedding?  Yes, I know you are proud to be a British Army soldier and that your sweat and blood earned you every right to wear your uniform, but the sweat pouring from your forehead on your wedding day is not a pretty sight!  You meet buno BIG time in that suit!
The expenses involved in weddings in this day and age has me hyperventilating.  I remember when I was back in Fiji last year and I was hanging out near the loading bay (please don’t get any dodgy ideas about me!) at one of Suva’s best hotels where a 3-tier wedding cake was being loaded onto a van.  I complimented the pâtissier on his culinary skills and craftsmanship.  He turned to me and said, “British Army fulla getting married today, in Laucala Beach.  He pay one thousand dollars”.  My jaw is still on the floor…(Again, I don’t mean to pick on the BA…)

There have been weddings whereby the intimacy of the occasion has been lost because every man and his dog have been invited.  You get the CEO of this and the Managing Director of that, who the Bride and Groom have only met once, at the Top Table.  You also get wet, sloppy “Bubu” kisses from your Nei who you never knew existed until two days ago, and there she is trying to run the damn show at your wedding!  You even get some people who’s last names the Bride and Groom don’t even know but were obliged to invite because they are so-and-so’s niece and she’s “hot property” as she has just graduated with a law degree.

The tacky-ness factor for me (personal opinion again) is when they start having floor shows, i.e. six girls doing a tamure for about twenty minutes.  I’m sorry, but I strongly believe that those forms of entertainment should be relegated to cultural shows and end of year school concerts!  I do have to admit though, at the wedding I went to at the Manor, the groom being a Kiwi got all his male Kiwi relatives and friends up on the dance floor to perform the Haka.  That wasn’t tacky, that was PHWOOOAR!

You can see that the white wedding gown (I’d wear black as I’m about to sign my life away), bouquet-throwing (the flowers will die, girls!), smoochy first dance (I cringe at the thought of everyone watching) and all that razzmatazz is clearly lost on me.

P.S.  A note to Daddy Birch: No worries about me breaking the bank with my wedding as I’ll only be needing $65.00 – for the registry office fees ($25.00) and two serves of chicken chowmein ($10.00) from Chopsticks for me and my groom’s “wedding breakfast” and one carton of Fiji Bitter ($30.00) for the two of us to “taki” on Wailoaloa Beach as we watch the sun set.