The Wedding Part 1: dressing, stressing, and a blindfolded reveal

Adam Pap

Note: We had wanted to blog the ceremony in this entry, but due to length, have made that 'part II' coming soon. This entry has tons of great stuff that you'll enjoy, and oodles of photos, especially at the bottom! Continuing from where we last left off...

The drive to the venue was longer than I remembered, but I appreciated the time to be still while still feeling like we were doing something important. Going for a drive is something I routinely do to settle my nerves, and having my dad with me meant that I was extra calm: it’s a combination of having total faith in my dad to take care of me, coupled with an eternal need to look brave so he’ll be proud of me. And so it was, that as we pulled into Stanley’s Olde Maple Lane Farm, I was feeling calm, cool, and collected—until I saw Brian standing in the parking lot.

My first thought was, thank god I put him in a bright orange vest so I can spot him a mile away. We had just entered the huge gravel parking lot at the venue when I saw him and some of his groomsmen, standing around at the far end of the parking lot, closest to the South Lawn Tent, where the reception would be and where I was planning to change into my dress. He was standing precisely where we needed to park, and this would immediately ruin any of the fun of not seeing each other ‘til the ceremony. I had a brief thought that maybe we could drive up without detection  when I recalled that we were in a rather uniquely raisin-coloured sports car, and just then Brian and his boys all turned their heads towards us, like a heard of deer catching the whiff of a big purple predator.

All my zen-like composure drained out of me and I flung myself down in the front passenger seat of my dad’s car, scooting my head down to where my butt had been and my butt now pushing up against the glove compartment. Officially, my head was where my butt should be and my feet were where my head should be. Dad, uncertain where to take me if Brian was blocking the tent entrance, kept driving around the parking lot…I’m certain he was careful to avoid my clueless fiancé, but because I could no longer see, I just kept shouting that we had to leave, we had to leave! The bridesmaids in the back seat were shouting, too, a mix of reassurances that we weren’t near Brian, and harried demands that someone call Brian, why doesn’t he leave? Poor Dad started to sound harried as he drove in little circles, waiting for Sir Tam to find Brian’s cell number and call him from the back seat. It was in the momentary lull where everyone calmed down and Tam’s phone was dialing that I was able to laugh at myself. I snapped this picture to remember the idiocy and drama. Crushed into my contortionist pose at the bottom of my dad’s car, I chuckled away until we were certain Brian was gone and I could pop back up.

The car was emptied of a hundred bags, totes, dresses, and shoes, and we were met at the car by various vendors and friends who had been busily setting up the tent and ceremony areas for the last few hours. I walked into the tent…and was rendered speechless. The room was still being done up, but what they’d managed to do so far was beautiful—far beyond what I ever imagined it would all look like put together. We’re going to inundate you with photos of the reception in the next post, but I’ll post here a shot or two just taken with phones. The pompoms was probably my first wonderful surprise: somehow, our crew of pros and volunteers had managed to string them up, not just along the walls as originally anticipated, but from invisible threads strung across the room. This was something I’d seen in the magazines and had really wanted, but knew we’d never have time to pull off…well, some clever person had figured out that there was already fishing line strung across the room when they arrived, and they capitalized on the discovery. This bonus alone made the venue so much more incredible in my eyes. 

These shots by our friend Shakira.

 

The second thing that struck me was that everything actually seemed to match. I still don’t know how this managed to happen, especially as we received several items over the last few months that, even when careful instruction had been given to the maker, had been made in shades of our theme colours that were definitely not what we’d asked for. People in particular had a very hard time grasping the difference between ‘apple’ green, and ‘lime’ green. But no matter! Somehow everything went together just fine, once put into place in the giant room. I remembered our florist Christina telling me that green works as a neutral, so even if we had many shades, they’d all naturally work together…turns out, she’s totally right. And of course, the real magic colour-wise was the absolutely perfect green tablecloths that former-bride and blog fan Kris passed along from her own wedding: they tied the room together perfectly. I was blown away by how well everything was coming together, left in the capable hands of our wedding planner Amy Karlin, and with the loving efforts of friends and family who came early to set up. I stood there, appreciating and feeling grateful for every hand that helped make this happen.

Shot by Christina's little girl.

After this brief pause to appreciate the room, I was whisked over to see the bouquets and flower arrangements done by Christina of the Flower Factory, and this was another wonderful moment. See, each thing that I saw come together, as we had our hair finished, our outfits gathered, the tent set up, and now the flowers…each little miracle filled me with a mix of increasing calm and increasing excitement. The combination of sensations was fantastic.

Laura Elizabeth

Laura Elizabeth got these shots before the ceremony.

When I saw Christina’s creations—especially my bouquet—I was so elated with them that the only reason I didn’t cry was because of this weird and lovely... ...calming/exciting sensation meant I was way too happy to even shed a tear…if anything, I’m more surprised I didn’t give a joyous shout.

Shortly thereafter, I was ushered into the bathroom to get changed. And turns out, our timing coincided with the many moms, aunts, and cousins also getting changed after having set up the venue. I hid myself away in the big accessible stall and began sorting out everything I needed to put on. Crinoline, dress, socks, boots, jewellery, underthings… all was in place before I opened the door for my mom to zip me up. She did so, and tied my green rickrack ‘sash’ around my waist for me. I stepped out of the stall and met with repeated cries of ‘how beautiful!’ as various ladies came in and out of the bathroom. And that’s how I spent 80% of my time for the next hour or so: greeting oodles of female guests while standing in a cramped bathroom with a dozen other women curling their hair and applying makeup. Again, I had to laugh: what a silly place for a receiving line. It worked well, though, and kept me out of the reception area most of the time…

Laura Elizabeth

Jordan and Jon discussing clotheslines. Adam Pap

…Which was good. Because everytime I managed to escape the bathroom (which I kept doing, feeling antsy and claustrophobic), I would find my way back into the reception area and I’d have a panic attack about various missing details. At one point I went to get a gift for a bridesmaid that I knew was tucked at the front of the room, and found our bunting hidden in a basket that no one had explored. I ran around with this in my hands, trying to find someone to hang it, when I also realized that the clothesline had not been strung. This clothesline was to be the place where everyone’s crayon drawings were to hang (more on this later). It must be the adrenaline, combined with my event planning instinct kicking in, but these little details became absolutely crucial at that moment. I needed them fixed, and there was no time and I couldn’t find the wedding planner and…and suddenly Tam was beside me, asking what I needed. Poor girl, she got to witness my second psycho moment of the day; she said something about it being okay, and I really misheard her and thought she’d asked if I was okay, and I have a blurry recollection of just repeating at her, over and over, ‘No, I’m not okay, I’m not okay at all.” A moment later, I realized she was saying that it would be okay because there were people to fix these things…but for better or worse, the little meltdown helped me a bit because I think I really wasn’t okay, that I was genuinely overwhelmed now that I was dressed and so close to the big moment. Anyway, soon thereafter Jon (Tam’s sweet hubby) showed up in the tent, and I went to him and explained that, basically, if he couldn’t help me by stringing a clothesline somewhere in the room, my head was going to fall off out of utter stress. Jon made it happen. Jon: thank you.

Laura Elizabeth

I was coerced back into the bathroom after that, where I continued to have teary meetings with friends and family as they came in to pee. I heard my friend Anne’s voice as I was hiding out in the stall at one point, and one look at me done up in my outfit—an outfit that she was a huge part of helping to conceptualize—brought her to tears and me along with her. My mom later asked me to emerge from my stall again to say hi to someone, and I immediately started bawling as I saw a very special member of my ‘family’, in the grander sense, standing there: our special friend Effie had made it, all the way from North Carolina. I just kept hugging her, unable to speak.

Adam Pap

Oh, and to be fair to those who are curious: this whole time, Brian and his boys sat at a picnic table outside on the far side of the tent. Amy (our wedding planner) had sat him down with a deck of cards and told him not to get up or turn around. There he sat, and as I repeatedly, almost obsessively, asked everyone who saw him how he was doing, the reports back were that he looked incredibly happy and totally relaxed. Of course. Ah, the many ways he exasperates me.

Anyway, it seemed like one minute I was touching up my eyeliner and the next minute, I was donning my blindfold. Brian and I had agreed that part of our big day would be a ‘blindfold reveal’. This was something I came up with, only to discover we aren’t the first, but feel free to share it with others now that you’ve seen it. We were both blindfolded in our respective areas, then led by our best mates to a field behind the tent. There, unable to ruin the first look but able to give each other a moment of comfort, we were able to hug, kiss, and talk to each other in near-privacy. The moment my hands found Brian, and I smelled his leather jacket, heard his sweet voice, and felt his scruffy face, I started crying. I told him I was nervous, and we kissed and laughed through tears. Here's a bunch of photos by Adam Pap...

Opening our gifts.

Happy girl!

After a while, we turned back to back, as rehearsed, and took off our blindfolds. Then we passed each other our bride and groom gifts without looking at each other. Brian opened his first, I think: my father’s gold pocket watch. He was speechless as he read the card. I opened mine next: a colourful, funky pearl necklace I’d been coveting for months from a local designer, Devine Fine Jewellery (who helped Brian out with the necklace when he went to them, months before, and began custom-designing it.) I cried again. Who knew there was so much crying before the wedding? I put it on over top of my Morganna the White necklace, knowing that it would layer perfectly into the textured layers. We donned our blindfolds for one more kiss, then parted ways until the ceremony…

…which I’ll recount to you in part II! But for now, here's some more blindfold shots by Laura Elizabeth Photography...

Holding hands, saying thank you.

And last but not least, some photos by our third photographer, Andrew of Aiden Wolf Photography!