About

It started at my cousin’s wedding. I was enchanted—the outfits, the food, the outpourings of love, the unbridled joy of the whole night. After a few glasses of champagne, I turned to my brother and his partner and told them I wanted to plan their wedding. The year that followed brought all of us closer, and by the end we’d built a day that was not only beautiful but felt entirely, unmistakably theirs.

Next it was my Type B best friend, drowning in the wedding planning process, and I jumped in to help. And again, I loved it. Not just planning out table scapes and choreographing the ballet of parking but the experience that comes with getting the opportunity to help someone you love make something so uniquely them.

Then came my own wedding. Two weddings in, I figured a third would be easy. It turns out it’s a lot harder to navigate the trials and emotions of your own day than someone else’s. The whole time, I kept wishing for a fairy godmother: someone to tell me it really doesn’t matter if you choose linen paper for the programs, you’ll need more ice than you think, and that weddings can hold grief alongside joy without being any less something to celebrate.