5 Jewish Wedding Mistakes (And How To Avoid Them) |
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by Tamar Fox, June 25, 2008 |
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Make Sure Your Chairs: have armsAh, wedding season: Weekends fill up with nuptials as our friends and relatives (and maybe even a few of us) march down the aisle and get hoisted up on chairs to wave napkins and hope they don't get dropped. Weddings are beautiful and fun, but as anyone who has ever watched Bridezillas can tell you, they rarely go off without a hitch. Here are some tips for anyone who wants to avoid common Jewish wedding disasters.
Saying "I Jew": Wedding Music |
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by Izzy Grinspan, February 20, 2008 |
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Like an 8th grade slow-dance: Except no one else is dancing but you
One of my favorite things about wedding planning: fantasizing about the playlist. I’m borderline tone-deaf and haven’t played an instrument since I quit piano in sixth grade, but like pretty much everyone except Vladimir Nabokov, I’m insanely susceptible to the emotional appeal of music. In this week’s New York Review of Books, Colin McGinn argues that we’re all saps in the face of a good song because music plays a big part in our sexual selection:
Musical ability is like the peacock's tail: a trait that advertises fitness and health, without directly aiding in the serious business of survival—a luxury that only the most vital can afford to possess.
In other words, we’re a musical species because music for us is a form of erotic display. McGinn spells out the implications:
Why, after all, is the love song the most popular form of music in the world? Because love songs are about the very thing that the music instinct is designed for—the selection of mates.
I don’t know how directly this conforms to my own taste in love songs, since for me the pinnacle of romance is famously-celibate Morrissey warbling about being hit by a bus with his lover. (“To die by your side/ Is such a wonderful way to die” – Darwin would be so disgusted.) But if our brains are wired to get all gushy about music, then no wonder wedding music is such a big deal that the Knot has devoted an entire section to it.
Some of the Knot’s ideas are hilariously awful. For one thing, their list of “hipster” wedding songs is straight out of modern rock radio circa 1997: Alanis Morrisette, Sarah McLachlan, Savage Garden. Also, they seem to be strongly in favor of ironic first dances, whereas I tend to believe that if you're dancing to the Monkees' “I’m a Believer" for reasons other than pure sentiment, then you aren’t ready for the lifelong commitment of marriage.
Then again, my own ideas aren’t much better. If I can’t have my celibate death-by-bus gloom-ballad, then my second choice is Ryan Adams’ “New York,” a song my fiancé and I listened to a lot when we first moved in together. But “New York” is best known as the unofficial theme song of 9/11. Romantic! And while I’ve also always been a sucker for Cat Power’s “Sea of Love,” Juno pretty much killed that one forever. My fiancé, meanwhile, seems to think our song is “Punk Rock Girl” by the Philadelphia 80’s band the Dead Milkman, which is adorable until you try to imagine dancing to it -- romantically, no less! -- in front of all your relatives.
Judaism doesn’t give you many guidelines in picking out wedding music – it’s far less helpful than the Knot in that respect. There’s really only one rule: No “Here Comes the Bride.” The wedding march from Wagner’s opera Lohengrin is verboten because Wagner was Hitler’s favorite composer and a sort of unofficial Nazi house band. It happens, by the way, that shortly after the heroine in Lohengrin marries her beloved, he leaves her and she dies of grief, so antisemitism aside, it’s a pretty lousy precedent.
Previously: DIY Weddings
When "American Wedding" Means "Christian Ceremony" |
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by AmyGuth, December 18, 2007 |
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Chuppah? Jewish wedding?: Is that 'Merican?I'm a writer, so I work out of my apartment. Most of the other residents of my building are 9-5ers, so I enjoy very quiet workdays. But, sometimes one of my upstairs neighbors is home during the day, too, and is so very noisy and so sometimes I turn on the television to cancel out her midday dance club or the late evening rendezvous she enjoys with her boyfriend (whom she praises during such rendezvous by first and last name).
Anyway, that's not the issue. I turned on the television for some white noise and landed on TLC. I don't remember what show made me stop on that channel, nor was I paying much attention to the programming all morning, but it was on and canceling out the noise from above, for the most part.
I make a point to take a moment and step away from my desk for lunch usually, or at least I try to most days, and as I did this, I got sucked into a show called A Wedding Story and was prompted to write a letter to the network. A Wedding Story is as the title would suggest-- the story of a couple getting the last-minute stuff together for their wedding and this particular episode was of Sarah (Christian from the US, her family is from the US) and Kamir (Muslim from the US, his family is from Morocco) who decided to have two destination weddings, one a protestant ceremony (which seemed pretty secular) and the other Muslim. During the early segment of the show, captions indicated the choice the couple made to have two weddings with the caption, "Two weddings. One Islamic. The other American."
Blink, blink. Blink.
Granted, I like to pick my battles, but this wording really bothered me because the implications were so culturally insensitive. Really, consider the implications. Is Islam a place? Is American a religion? Okay, I'm being a smart-ass, but really, this usage indicates that American is the same as Christian and, well, it isn't. With this wording, one has to assume TLC takes to position that "American wedding" excludes Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, Wiccan-- and any other wedding tradition that isn't Christian? It might be, and probably is, a simple matter of semantics, an oversight maybe, but for it to air, a lot of people within the network had to see it and either not be bothered by it, not care enough to speak up or not even realize what it implied. I doubt the bride and groom saw the show prior to it airing, and so I wonder, too, what the groom thought? He probably felt marginalized at the implication that Muslim didn't qualify as American. How could he not?
So, I wrote an email to the network. It was a calm, polite email that asked for a reply in the matter, so while the network probably doesn't give a shit about my letter and will never respond, if they do, you'll be the first to hear about it.
Wedding Etiquette, and Where to Find Rockin’ A Klezmer Band |
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by Tamar Fox, June 28, 2007 |
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June is almost over, but the Jewish wedding season is just getting started. I have a number of friends with weddings almost every weekend from now until Labor day. I only have to buy one blender this summer, but it seems like wedding talk is all over the place, so I thought I’d give some tips on what to expect at different kinds of weddings, and some customs to consider if you’re thinking of tying the knot sometime soon-ish. This is obviously not a comprehensive listing, just a few helpful tips. There are about a billion books about wedding planning, and even Jewish wedding planning (most notably The New Jewish Wedding by Anita Diamant of The Red Tent fame), so I’m just going to list some things those books might overlook.
Planning
If you’re not already aware of it, ask if there’s a gemach for wedding dresses, bridesmaid dresses, mother of the bride dresses, table linens, centerpieces…you get the picture. Gemachs are basically libraries of items available for rent or even for free if someone can’t otherwise afford something. We hear about tefillin gemachs, and wedding dress gemachs, but many large communities have gemachs for everything from sheitels to chuppas. These are available to you even if you’re not Orthodox, and they can help you save tons of money, though you should be aware that if you’re looking for a sleeveless wedding dress you won’t find it at a frum gemach
You probably want to check out Calm Kallahs. When it starts to gross you out, head over to Only Simchas and set up your engagement home page. Wait for all your friends from high school to post giggly messages. Gloat.
Rock Out: With Maxwell Street Klezmer
The Week Before
My favorite wedding custom is rarely practiced by my friends, but is no less cool in my eyes. Basically, the bride and groom are forbidden from seeing or speaking to each other for a full week before the wedding. I’ve never seen a source brought to support this, the reasons seems to be simply that they’ll miss each other so much it will make the wedding that much more exciting. Though logistically I imagine it’s a nightmare, what with rehearsal dinners being something of an impossibility, it strikes me as incredibly cool. A couple of friends of mine did this before their wedding, and every night they left each other voicemail messages…it’s pretty seriously cute.
At the Wedding
You probably want a little printed out guide/program to let everyone know what’s going on. I came across an amazing one for a couple I’ve never met, Jen and Seth. It’s really funny and informative in a clever fun way. Awesome excerpt:
Now we get into the ceremony itself - finally! The marriage ceremony, while solemnizing the holy joining of man and woman into a new Jewish household, is also a business deal. As such, it must conform to three rules: (1) don't touch the merchandise before you buy it; (2) don't pay for the merchandise before you see it; (3) NEVER PAY RETAIL.
Jewish weddings have two parts, kiddushin (betrothal) and nissuin (marriage). These parts were historically separated by a time period up to a year long. However, since Jewish history, particularly in Europe, was never very peaceful, it became risky to have too long a time between betrothal and marriage, since the groom might end up dead in a pogrom or something in the meantime. So now the two parts are done consecutively in one day.
You may not want to copy Jen and Seth (and you should probably get their permission if you do want to copy them) but try to put together something for Aunt Ida to fan herself with while the bride is circling the groom.
At many weddings while the Bride is waiting to be veiled the groom gives a tisch, or a little sermon, to his friends and family (traditionally only the men are invited, but I’ve been to a number of coed pre-chuppa tisches in my day). The talk is accompanied by many l’chaims, and it’s customary to interrupt him as much as possible, and to constantly be lightening the mood, because it’s supposed to be such a happy day for him. A good pre-chuppa tisch is key.
At most observant weddings the groom wears a kittel, that white robe that he’s supposed to wear on the high holidays, and I know of at least one wedding where the bride wore one over her dress while they were under the chuppa. It’s a little silly looking, but I’m all for it.
Part of most Jewish weddings is the reading of the ketubah. Since the text of the ketubah is in Aramaic some people think it’s boring (I have a weird obsession with Aramaic, so I dig it, but whatev) but I encourage you to do it, and to make sure you have a woman do the public reading. Why? Because a little while back Rabbi Hershel Schacter of Yeshiva University made the following statement about whether or not it’s okay for women to read the ketubah at a wedding:
Since the whole purpose of krias hekesuba is to introduce a pause between the brachos over the two cups of wine, the longer the pause - the better! (See Beikvei Hatzohn pg. 268.)So it is a correct observation that if one only studies Even Hoezer Hilchos Kiddushin and Hilchos Nisuin there's absolutely no mention whatsoever that anything is wrong with a woman reading the kesuba. Yes, a monkey could also read the kesuba!
Monkeys, women, talking parrots, a gorilla using Aramaic sign language—they’re all fine! If that wasn’t offensive enough, Rav Shachter goes on to say that even though it’s permissible for women to read the ketuba, they shouldn’t because it’s a public thing, and such a display would be immodest. Since I’m pretty sure I’m the only person in the world who’s actually turned on by someone reading in Aramaic, I feel like I can go ahead and say Shachter is being ridiculous. I’m not attracted to girls, so we’re out of the woods. Anyway, I say have a chick with a miniskirt read your ketubah just to stick it to our monkey loving YU posek. Also, after the groom breaks the glass I am strongly in favor of tongue kissing under the chuppa.
Bring In Da Noise, Bring in Da Klezmer
We’ve already established that I have a crush on all things Sephardic, but at a Jewish wedding, there’s nothing like getting down to some seriously rockin’ klezmer music. I am slightly obsessed with the Maxwell Street Klezmer Band in Chicago, but I’m sure there’s an excellent klezmer band near you (even if you live in Denmark). Klezmershack has a nice listing of hundreds of bands that you can search by location, so you shouldn’t have trouble finding someone who’s handy with a clarinet. A lot of these bands have people they can bring in to do regular wedding songs (I’m looking to marry a man who will be totally cool with a wedding song that’s totally inappropriate. Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground, maybe? Just cause it would be hilarious), so don’t feel like you need to hire multiple bands to satisfy both Jewish and regular dancing requirements. But I really feel the klezmer part is not optional.
Mazel tov!
Go have awesome sex, already.
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Diamonds Haven’t Always Been Forever |
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| How the jewelry industry convinced us true love costs $4,000 | ||
by Izzy Grinspan, May 21, 2007 |
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Look, for example, at the changing customs around ring shopping. As soon as we started thinking about getting married, my boyfriend and I found ourselves presented with these old-fashioned roles to play: He’s the stoic breadwinner hunting down the diamond for his bride, and I’m the demure dependent breathlessly accepting the gift presented at my feet. These roles have almost nothing to do with our actual day-to-day lives, of course, but rebelling against them takes a lot of work. Rather than trying to subvert the dominant paradigm and plan the wedding at the same time, most people simply pay extra to make the cognitive dissonance go away. This is terrific for Tiffany’s, but kind of a scam for the rest of us, which is why I’m proud to say that I’m a diamond-free bride.
The groom as tool: De Beers helpfully explains gender rolesHistorically, buying the ring is the groom’s job, and his ability to save two month’s salary—a standard invented in the first half of the twentieth century by the jewelry industry—signifies his prowess as a provider. Since most brides have their own incomes these days, this tradition doesn’t make much sense, but we haven’t scrapped it. Instead, more and more brides simply contribute their own salaries towards the ring. In 2007, 39% of women said they’d help pay for the ring (up 11% over the past two years.) It’s a good thing, because ring prices have skyrocketed: In 2006, the average couple spent $4,470 on an engagement ring, or 25% more than they did back in the simpler days of 2002.
Sharing the cost hasn’t helped alleviate our anxiety about the size and shape of our rings, though. One in four women admit the engagement ring they received was too small or not what they had envisioned, which sounds horribly materialistic until you remember what else the ring is supposed to demonstrate. Cartier might sum it up perfectly in their ad campaign: Under three big rocks, the caption reads “This is what extraordinary love looks like.” It’s impossible to miss their point. A big ring means big love; a little one suggests simply lukewarm affection.
My own engagement ring has no diamond, but it does have a huge replica of a rock. The designer, Alissia Melka-Teichroew, traced the silhouette of a diamond ring onto a piece of silver and then cut it out. It’s a comment on ringness, a meta-ring. It’s conceptual. It cost $99. I love it.
A ring about ring-ness: Mine's the one on the far leftYou’ll forgive me if I sound a little snotty, a little triumphant, a little too cool for school. The truth, of which I am exceedingly proud, is that no one in my life has given me a hard time about my lack of diamond. I’ve gotten a couple semi-skeptical comments — one “So when are you going to get the real ring?” and one “You know, you have a very different attitude about this than most women.” But nobody’s told me that my fiancé priced me out at less than a hundred dollars, and for that I’m very grateful.
Why the anti-ring? Well, there’s the crass financial reason; neither of us saw the point of spending so much money on a piece of jewelry, especially when the meta-ring was so perfectly suited to both of our tastes. There are also a host of ethical reasons, given the well-documented corruption of the diamond industry. "If you really want a typical engagement ring," said my fiancé, "I could always go to Sierra Leone and dismember some small children."
Not long after we got engaged, I found a picture of my ring on Offbeatbride, the website accompanying Ariel Meadow Stalling’s excellent eponymous how-to book about non-traditional weddings. She described it as “the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to anyone who asks about your diamond ring.” In the comments section, someone called her out, wondering why anyone would want to be so rude to people who just want to appreciate your good fortune. I saw her point, but it seemed obvious that the real source of hostility here wasn't the occasional friendly ring-gawper. Every time you open a magazine Cartier’s there to tell you that your man doesn’t love you—and “fuck you” is the wrong reaction?
Good enough for Grandma?: Mead's bookAs Rebecca Mead points out in One Perfect Day, her meticulously-researched book about the wedding industry, ads like Cartier’s are effective. In fact, diamond rings only became widely associated with engagement after the diamond company De Beers began advertising in the 1930s. It took them years to invent the tradition: Even as late as 1939, one-third of brides went ringless. It wasn’t until 1947, when a never-married copywriter coined the phrase “A diamond is forever,” that diamonds become a crucial part of betrothal. It’s a hard slogan to argue against. If a diamond is forever, and you’re dismissive of diamonds, doesn’t that suggest you’re saying fuck you to forever?
Jodi Kantor seems to think so. In her New York Times review of One Perfect Day, Kantor appeared to take Mead’s criticisms of the industry personally, arguing that her own wedding was tasteful and referring to the book as “dour” (which is up there with “shrill” and “hairy” on the Top Ten List of Ad Hominem Responses to Feminist Arguments.) Kantnor hastily pointed out that she didn’t disagree with the book’s general thesis; she just believes our current wedding excess can’t be too bad, because it makes people happy. “Do grandmothers cry just as hard when a bride is married, as Mead was, at a courthouse while wearing office clothes?” she asks. Read that again: The New York Times’ reviewer just accused a journalist of making her grandma sad by not spending enough money on her wedding. It’s a perfect example of the way the industry has coached us to conflate what we buy with how we feel.
The industry is only so powerful, though, as the story of the male engagement ring demonstrates. In 1926, with revenues threatened by the rise of department stores, jewelers began marketing rings for men—“mangagement rings,” as my fiancé wistfully calls them. They positioned these rings as historically macho, advertising them with pictures of be-ringed Conan the Barbarian types charging into battle and naming them things like “the Pilot,” “the Executive,” and my favorite, “the Stag.” But there was an essential problem with the male ring: it didn’t fit with traditional engagement gender roles. Men were supposed to be bestowing the rings, not wearing them, and all the ringed barbarians in the world couldn’t convince the public otherwise.
Bling it on: Does wearing jewelry make this guy less of a man?This problem played out logistically. Since it was taboo for women to propose marriage, brides couldn’t figure out when to buy their fiancé’s rings. Were they supposed to secretly return to the jewelry store after the proposal? Not only was the process clunky, but grooms tended to stand in the way. As one trade magazine pointed out, if a man discovered that his bride planned to spend $30 to $50 on a ring for him, he’d probably talk her out of it. For the mangagement ring to succeed, then, women would have to deceive their fiancés in order to buy them gifts that they didn’t really want.
Deep-seated gender roles are much harder to escape than a sixty-year-old custom. I should know: Our engagement ring might be postmodern, but my fiancé’s proposal was entirely old-fashioned. Andy bought the ring without me—without my knowledge. (If I may be sentimental for a moment, the vision of him engagement-ring-shopping at the MoMA store totally kills me; it’s like some weird pre-sexual fantasy I would have had as a pretentious eight-year-old.) And he proposed on one knee, just like Mr. Darcy.
I’m rare among my engaged and married friends; most had long, heartfelt discussions about commitment and readiness before anyone thought about buying a ring. Sixty-four percent of women help pick out the ring, which means they’ve discussed getting married before the actual engagement. But only 5% of women propose. Had we stuck with our happy living-in-sin arrangement for another few years, I like to think I would have suggested we get married—but I would have felt ridiculous getting down on one knee. Even the phrase “Will you marry me?” seems to belong to men; speaking it, I think I’d feel like I was play-acting, and I suspect my fiancé would feel the same way. We’re independent-minded enough to buck a tradition created by the jewelry industry, but neither of us can fully escape the idea that some roles are for men and some are for women.
Next: Is it ethical of us to get married when so many of our friends can’t?
Five ways to keep the wedding-industrial complex off your ring finger |
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by Izzy Grinspan, May 21, 2007 |
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1. These wooden rings are simple and environmentally friendly.

2. A silver ring inlaid with poured concrete—yes, concrete—is perfect for Bob-the-Builder types.
3. These acrylic cube rings from Japan put a ‘60s twist on the meta-ring concept.
4. Geeks who don’t mind spending a little more money can immortalize their love in binary code.
5. Some antique stones might be "blood diamonds," but at least they’re recycled. Try the lovely art deco rings at Circa1930s.
Tips for Planning an Interfaith Wedding |
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by Laurel Snyder, April 20, 2007 |
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Tacky is Universal: Ew! Ew! Ew! Ew!Inspired by the comments of a certain anonymous poster, I thought I’d give some advice today…. on things to consider when (successfully) planning an Interfaith Wedding.
1. What Really Matters? Pick Your Battles!
A Jew planning an interfaith wedding sometimes bristles at every little detail, because they’ve been prepped for this experience to be so hard. They go in expecting to do battle (and end up with some scars). So the most important thing to remember is CALM DOWN! If you can be gracious on the less religious aspects of the wedding, your partner (and his/her mom) may be surprisingly accommodating about the religious details you can’t bring yourself to concede on . Before you begin to plan together, make a list for yourself of the things you really NEED to have, and then be ready to cave on all the other stuff. Food and music and colors and flowers and tuxedos and cake flavors feel important when you’re fighting with your future Mother-in-law, but they might be worth swapping out for your childhood rabbi and a Hebrew benediction. If you spend some time figuring out your deal breakers in advance, and centering yourself for a smooth conversation, you’ll be less likely to end up feeling screwed.
2. Trust Me, You'll Get Your Chuppah
That said, remember that there are more Jewish cultural “extras” than there are non-Jewish ones. So you’ll end up getting more than you think. Once you’ve hammered out the colors and flowers and so on, you can “add in” the Chuppah and the Ketubah and the stepping-on-glass and the spinning chairs if you want. Don’t begin by introducing these particularities of your culture. Begin with the things you BOTH think of as “wedding decisions” and then introduce the specifically Jewish details later on. Bear in mind that there are very few Christian cultural wedding traditions (tiny sandwiches, sherbet punch, and unity candles are about it unless your partner is Greek or Italian or something) so you should be gracious with those... DON'T assume that Jesus is everywhere. If Jesus is hanging around, you'll usually know it.
3. Introduce Jewish Culture Slowly (and only after you’ve been generous)
Then, once you’ve given in on the non-religious stuff, and hammered out the decisions you need to make together, you need to teach your partner about how FUN a Jewish wedding is. Ideally, you should get yourself invited to a good wedding, so your betrothed can see the good times up close. But if you aren’t up for that, try renting some movies with fun Jewish wedding scenes in them (like, Wedding Crashers, not Yentl!).
4. Readings: Judaism IS the lowest common denominator
Once you’ve dealt with the secular stuff, and talked your sweetie into a Chuppah, it’s time for thinking about readings and clergy. This is the one time when the supersession of Judaism works to your advantage. Because Song of Songs (or whatever you choose for your readings) is IN your partner’s bible. So you shouldn’t be immediately scared of using religious texts in your wedding (some people avoid it altogether). You might be surprised to discover that you get no struggle at all with your choices, especially if you pick Jewish text that’s a common part of Christian liturgy.
5. Can You Give Up Hebrew?
It’s very very important to remember that a Jewish prayer in ENGLISH is way less intimidating for non-Jews. If you grew up Reform, an English service might not be so hard for you to accept, but if you grew up Conservative or Orthodox, you might trouble accepting this concession. Even so, it’s worth thinking about. Remember that your partner is giving up a lot too, and that English may be what makes an all-Jewish service palatable.
6. Find the RIGHT Rabbi
I will say now that you do NOT want to talk a rabbi into marrying you. I’ve seen this happen over and over, and it causes a lot of tears. You want a rabbi who is happy to be marrying you. If, when you approach a rabbi, there’s tension, walk away. You do NOT need extra stress right now.
7. This is Only the Tip of the Iceberg
The most important thing to remember, in all of this, is that your wedding is only the first big decision you’ll make with your partner (and his/her family). Religious education for the kids, circumcision, attending a house of worship, burial plots—these are all ahead of you. So use your wedding as a proving ground for your ability to hold your own, and also to dialogue. You may find you are unable to give in on anything, and you may find you’re a doormat. If this process is really really hard, you might want to see a marriage counselor before the big day. I cannot stress enough how important it is to have these conversations now, no matter how hard they may be. These wedding details are all going to resurface later as more important milestones and symbols. Better to know now if your deal breakers are incompatible! You don't want to end up sending little Moishe to the "Baptized Believers in Christ" Sunday School.
Or getting divorced.
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The Morning After |
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| Saying "I do" is the easy part. | ||
by Izzy Grinspan, March 15, 2007 |
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Then, suddenly, Andy was down on one knee holding a ring, and the radio had switched to the Simple Minds song from The Breakfast Club, and we were halfway through a conversation I’d expected would take place in, oh, three or four years.
At 35, Andy is nine years my senior. His friends are all getting married and buying houses; my friends are all applying to grad school. His little brother has a wife, twins, and a rabbinical pulpit in Canada; my little brothers have roommates, bongs, and a cappella rehearsal. I’m certainly no child bride—the median age for marriage among American women is 25—but like most of my divorce-wary, commitment-phobic generation, I’d barely started to think about laying down roots.
Heart of Stone: This is not what my engagement ring looks likeI could picture us in ten years…in twenty…in thirty. I could picture our curly-haired babies. I just hadn’t spent much time picturing our wedding.
“Can I have a year to think about it?” I sniffled.
Now both of us were nursing surprise. “A year?” asked Andy. “Like, a year in which we’d each go off and have adventures and sow our wild oats?”
Well, no. That was a terrible idea. In fact, I was beginning to come around to the original proposal. I just needed to make sure of the terms. Did he want kids someday? Would he be willing to leave New York?
He said yes. I said yes. And there you have it: One day I was watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force in a crappy Brooklyn apartment with my boyfriend, and the next day I was watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force in a crappy Brooklyn apartment with my husband-to-be.
Getting engaged turned out to be easy. These days, the wedding is the hard part. Since 1990, the price of the average wedding has risen 73 percent, to $26,327; you could hire your own editorial assistant for less. Surely this wasn’t what our parents’ generation had in mind when they jettisoned traditional wedding strictures to get married barefoot in the backyard. But as weddings got less religious, they lost some of their meaning. We promptly filled that gap with the nation’s other faith—shopping. We looked to the frilly Victorians for inspiration and turned the send-off to marriage into the biggest, most expensive party most of us will ever throw.
The term “Bridezilla” entered the common parlance with a show on the WE channel and marked the beginning of the backlash, as women fed up with the rampant materialism of mainstream weddings began turning out on websites like Indiebride.com and buying books like The Anti-Bride Guide. The emerging indie-bride movement aims to restore authenticity—and a sensible budget—to the ritual by taking a do-it-yourself approach and making room for the couple’s individual tastes. But the difference between mainstream weddings and indie weddings is too often merely aesthetic. Replacing seared ahi tuna with tuna sandwiches doesn’t necessarily make the ceremony more meaningful.
The Cinderella wedding dress: Her bridesmaids will be costumed as singing miceAbout a year ago, the New York Times car-crash column “Modern Love” (I dread it, but I can’t help staring) ran a comic essay by a man who got deeply caught up in his wedding plans—a groomzilla. Get it? The joke only works because when we visualize a wild-eyed spouse-to-be throwing a tantrum about invitation stationary, that spit-flecked lunatic is always female. And her battle cry is first person singular: “It’s MY day.” Note that this is exactly the attitude monstrously spoiled teenage girls take in my favorite MTV reality show and harbinger of the apocalypse, My Super Sweet 16. By telling women that their weddings should be bride-centric fulfillments of all their girlhood fantasies, we’ve taken a ritual that’s all about adulthood and infantilized it. (Disney even started designing wedding gowns for women who want to look like Snow White or the Little Mermaid, which must be awesome for men who want to marry small children.) But, more importantly, the whole point of getting married is to forge a partnership. It’s not about mine, but ours.
Shortly after I got engaged, I signed us up for the popular wedding site theKnot, giving it our tentative summer 2008 wedding date. It replied with a list of 34 things I had to do immediately, most of them involving a pricey transaction of some kind and each marked with a pale purple exclamation point. And we wonder how our sweet-meaning gal pals transform into rampaging materialistic monstrosities?
Carley Romney, the founder of theKnot, insists that the site encourages men to be a part of the process by alleviating the embarrassment of carrying around a wedding magazine. But I can’t picture many men, Andy included, who feel like pastel exclamation points really speak to them. And I don’t see why a marriage of teamwork should begin with 12-to-16 months of me neurotically trying to get those little boxes checked off. In fact, I don’t see how anyone benefits from that at all, other than the 70-billion-dollar wedding industry.
A non-traditional gown for the non-allergic bride: A wedding dress made out of cut flowersSo I can appreciate the indie-bride ethos. I’ve checked out The Anti-Bride Guide, The Conscious Bride, and I Do But I Don’t. I’ve logged hours reading the terrifying but addictive Horror Stories thread on Indiebride. But when a close friend mailed me an essay from Bust magazine (sadly, not available online) about how to have an indie wedding, I began to wonder if the alternative wedding scene was really so different from the mainstream. After making the classic anti-materialist case against modern wedding madness, the piece launched into laudatory examples: the couple who loved Halloween so much that they had a blood-and-tombstones theme, or the sci-fi bride who walked down the aisle to Princess Leia’s Star Wars theme. Over on Indiebride, meanwhile, people were squabbling about whether there’s a price cap on an indie wedding. Superficially, the indie world appealed to me, but it still seemed more focused on the aesthetics of the wedding than the strength of the marriage.
There is one obvious way for us to make sure our wedding is about more than the clothes we wear and the food we serve. A close friend recently got married in a traditional Jewish service—a piece of theater that has been perfected over hundreds of years. No wonder I cried my eyes out. I also signed her ketubah, which felt infinitely more significant than being a bridesmaid—rather than just attending to the bride on her big day, I’m a witness and signatory to her union with her husband for all time.
So indie! And yet so cold: The adventure rabbi marries a couple atop a mountainLuckily for us, Andy’s brother is a Conservative rabbi who immediately offered to do the ceremony. I’m wary that a set procedure—even a Jewish one—may imply a sort of insta-meaning. It also feels a bit like cheating, given that neither of us is particularly observant, but I’m glad to have a tradition that can provide us with both structure and significance.
It might not be the worst thing that the wedding tradition has expanded to include so many options. The New York Times Style section routinely makes the situation sound like a bleak battle between Cinderella and Princess Leia, but the actual weddings I’ve witnessed have been lovely: There was the nondenominational ceremony that lasted five minutes and involved a keyboardist whistling “I’ve Just Seen A Face”, the Jewish-Catholic one that took place on top of a castle in Italy; the gorgeous eighteenth-hole wedding of Andy’s golfer cousin. The barefoot brides of the ’60s got it right when they threw out the rules; the range of options is daunting, but it can also be beautiful. Now that Andy and I are engaged, our job—and my goal with this column—is to figure out what to take, what to leave, and what to add to make it our own. I imagine we’ll piece together our marriage in much the same way.
Next column: I know you want to hear about the ring!
Lies, Damned Lies, and Things You Tell Your Family |
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by Tamar Fox, March 1, 2007 |
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I Heart Lies: It's kind of my job...