what do you get when you cross an art therapist with a public proclamation of love and committment?
i am fully aware of the stereotype, having been to the conferences and seen the whirling dervish day-wear accessorized with bottle cap/pipe cleaner/bread bag tie/egg shell earings. however, my nuptial imprinting was finalized in 1981. instead of following mother greylag goose to the pond, i forever thought that lady di, and therefore enough tulle to quote bible verses from the back of a small aircraft, was my destiny.
weddings surpass the (other) fat man in the beard for tchotchkes (pavarotti tried to get in on the english footballer bandwagon), more abhorrent than the 'mary-in-a-bathtub' lawn decor many people in southern indiana feel improves their 'curb appeal'. and yet a quick google of the various, and ultimately homogenous, media portals, it becomes blisteringly apparent that any bride-to-be can choose from 365 flavours of monogrammed plastic, stamped with wing-ed hearts, smooching doves, and angels with oversized eyeballs sporting a "made in china" logo a la victoria's secret branded on their bums. mickey mouse's silhouette may be the only "TM." to rival "happily ever after" paraphernalia.
and so, there will be no water colour mandalas at each place setting, affirmation dolls wrapped around the napkins, or an interactive 'love mural' for guests to contribute a found object as a way to 'commemorate the day as a collective'.
attendees might be asked to gestalt the cake, though.