The 9 Wedding 'Rules' To Break

By Molly Guy

Pic by Arthur Elgort, Vogue, June 2009

It’s 2016 and your mama’s wedding is officially a thing of the past. I’m the first to condone any ritual involving love, but some of the wedding traditions out there these days are practically voodoo. Closing your eyes and tossing flowers to the crowd in hopes your college roommate cat lady will catch it? The robotic processional walk to “Pachelbel’s Canon”? The rose petals strewn across the duvet enticing you to slither upon it in slinky lingerie? Methinks not.

 

At its core, a wedding is a raw, essential celebration of true love. Anything that detracts from that . . . well, it detracts from that. Plus, every good Stone Fox knows that rules are meant to be broken. Toss your 10-foot veil to the wind, set fire to the monogrammed matchbook party favors, and stroll down the road to wedded bliss with reckless abandon. Be the bride who says, “I did it my way.” Here, nine tips for breaking the mold.

 

 

Say “I don’t” to:

 

Rings

Historically, they were there to let the world know you were the property of your big strong husband, who was out in the scary mean world skinning bears and slaving away at his important job, while you stayed home, scrubbing the woolen underwear of your six children in the washbasin. Why not get matching tattoos instead? Actually, why get matching anything? Not to get too Stevie Nicks here, but the psychic bond you share is what’s important—not the jewelry.

 

Girls, Girls, Girls

After the proposal, sit your bitches down and be all: “Listen, I’m not going to torture you with the popularity contest of a bridal party and the engagement party and the shower and having to pedestal-ize me for the next year in your crappy $400 crinoline monstrosity. Just pick some gorge dress and strut down the aisle at my wedding.” And did someone say “maid of honor”? Let’s not even go there.

 

The Registry

When’s the last time you cooked a casserole or pressed a panino at home? If you’re a domestic goddess, the registry idea is sweet and all, but why not just go old-school and request cash post-ceremony? Send one of the flower girls around, holding a big basket with an adorbs sign around her neck that says “Accepting contributions.” Now you can do with it what you want: kitchen items, paying off student loans, a charity of your choice.

 

The Big Reveal

I totally get the appeal of the big rom-com moment when the groom sees the bride in her dress for the first time, but honestly, you have been spending every single day together since you first met at Lit Lounge in 2001 . . . is this really necessary? I’m all for a five-minute powwow before walking down the aisle so you can press your heart to his and remember why you’re there in the first place.

 

Something Old, Something New

Ew. Doesn’t that stress you out? What’s the point? Why add another thing to your checklist? Let it go and move on. And while we’re at it, can we talk about the garter? A slutty, elasticized strip of fake lace cutting off circulation to your upper thigh? All so that the man of the hour can drunkenly remove it, then pass it on to Great-Uncle Ted in the hopes he gets laid? Let’s opt out of this one.

 

Walking Down the Aisle With Daddy

Safely ensconced in the nook of his arm, like a wee lamb? Is that really necessary? Why not walk down the aisle by yourself or with your about-to-be partner—or better yet, don’t even walk down the aisle at all. When your guests file in, be there to greet them, then, as they take their seats, proceed to the altar hand in hand with your betrothed, ready to get the show on the road.

 

First Dance

Am I the only person who finds this really bizarre? Twirling around to a waltz as if you’re in a Viennese ballroom circa 1932? Not to mention, dance lessons are both costly and time-consuming. And then to have a million pairs of eyes on you? No thanks.

 

Feeding Each Other Cake

That awkward rigmarole where the two of you hobble up to the dessert bar and playfully feed each other a slice amid a barrage of blinking flashbulbs? Why? Being hand-fed cake in front of an audience is disgusting. ’Nuff said.

 

The Elaborate Honeymoon

Try out the staycation alternative instead. Book a suite at a nearby hotel and hole up for a couple days with some board games and champagne, and call it a long weekend. And while you’re there, ask the hotel manager if the pool could stay open late for a private swim.

 

Originally published on Vogue.com