I’d planned to propose sometime during a night of romance, fine dining and a concert of one of our favourite artists. However, that afternoon there was a hectic game of Scrabble that Emily lost, followed by a hissy fit that threatened to disrupt the evening’s plans. Mid-argument I thought to myself, this is as real as married life will get, and if I can only express my love in a romantic setting, then how real is our love? So I pulled out the ring and proposed, kneeling by the bedside. Emily’s response (through tears) was “Yes, but you could have waited till I put some pants on!”
It was important to us that the wedding was a true reflection of who we are, so we ditched a few of the formalities and traditional aspects of a wedding (bridal party, vows, speeches etc) to focus on the key ingredients to any good party: food, drink, pool and dancefloor. Underpinning the vibe was a theme of inclusion – we wanted everyone to feel like they’d taken part in the wedding and not just played the part of spectator or vendor – from the guests who read the pronouncement to the neighbour who came over to cut coconuts to the villa staff who took the decorations home to up-cycle for temple offerings. Instead of the bride being given away by her father, we started a new family tradition and had all the parents take turns wrapping a length of batik cloth around our joined hands; to symbolise the influence each one of them has had on us as individuals and how that contributes to my and Emily’s relationship together. My favourite moments were at the end of the night when the pool and dancefloor kind of merged somehow. Some guests were dancing in the pool while others were swimming across the dancefloor. Also getting a row of people along the edge of the pool with their heads tilted back for a giant ‘layback’ train (shots poured straight into the mouth).