Chill-brides and Bridezillas: the electric fence around a woman voicing what she wants
When I was six, I was with another little girl at my grandmother's house, and she wanted to play “plan our weddings.” I listened, slightly confused, as she excitedly described her dress, the setting, the colour scheme, and flowers.
My partner of nine years, Tom, and I are currently planning our wedding. It has taken up a lot of square footage of my mental capacity, despite my protests that I am supposedly “not a wedding person.” I had no blueprint laid out by my six-year-old self to turn to.
When I was about twenty-five, people I didn’t know very well began asking when Tom and I would get married. I stomped on the suggestion, telling them we weren’t planning on it, which I now realise is because I don’t like being told what to do. I imagined myself too fucken rock and roll for something as square as getting married. To my friends, I said I didn’t see the point, and if one day I saw the point, then maybe things would change.
Things changed when I went overseas without Tom. I realised I’d never have as much fun without him there, and so by legally binding myself to him, I will never have to go anywhere without him again. We began the conversation by saying we would be married at the courthouse and have a party in a beer garden afterwards.
I insisted on being the coolest, chillest, lowest maintenance bride there ever was, and that everyone would applaud me on my ability to be so cool and chill that I evaporated and disappeared completely.
I wanted to find a five-dollar vintage dress that smelled like mothballs in the back of an Opshop. I wanted to stumble upon a garden cottage where the owner would say “you are simply marvelous, and so skinny! So tiney-tiny! Practically non-existent! Throw your wedding here for free, you don’t have to worry about a thing!” and all the labour would be done by mice wearing little hats. I would float in on the day as a demure Elvish version of myself (which in my mind's eye is just Elle Fanning) and tell everyone how easy and “not a big deal” the wedding is.
Heavenly Creature - Elle Fanning by Benny Horne for The Edit May 2018
After hosting my 30th at my parent's house, I realised how much more effort a DIY wedding would be. I realised I wouldn’t be paying for makeup, I would be paying to sit calmly in a chair not freaking out (which is normally what happens every time I do my makeup for an important event.) As I struggled to find a suitable venue, I realised that the non-traditional wedding was proving inconvenient, and trying so hard was becoming increasingly more uncool than just having a normal wedding.
The wedding process has been wrestling with who I want to be and who I really am. I had been so obsessed with the lore of it all and framed everything around how it would sound in the future. I was crafting a narrative to validate the character I would rather be.
The word “Bridezilla” was first used by a writer named Diane White in a 1995 Boston Globe article about difficult brides. In 2004, an American reality TV show of the same name aired, documenting the chaotic and stressful experiences of women planning their weddings in order to laugh at them and revel in how unreasonable they are.
In 2009, I was 15 years old and watched 500 Days Of Summer at the cinema.
"Summer is an immature view of a woman. She's Tom's view of a woman. He doesn't see her complexity and the consequence for him is heartbreak. In Tom's eyes, Summer is perfection, but perfection has no depth. Summer's not a girl, she's a phase."
— Marc Webb, Director of 500 Days Of Summer
This perspective, like many other people, was lost on me. I, just like everyone else, thought that Summer was a bitch and should have given him what he wanted.
500 Days Of Summer (2009)
Sixteen years later, I recognise how I am the Tom to my Summer. I imagine my futureself to be the embodiment of my romantic fantasies and not who I really am as an anxious and at times slightly obsessive and paranoid human being.
We ended up booking a venue that looks like a castle for the day after Halloween. My original inspiration for my outfit was a corpse bride. I didn’t clock the irony at the time – that I wanted to be so cool and chill that I would literally be dead.
I'd come full circle: the vision of me smoking a cigarette in a beer garden wearing a silly dollar-store veil morphed into walking down the aisle in a white gown in a church. I had accidentally organised my nightmare.
Sex and the City (2008)
I pivoted and chose a different kind of wedding dress. Then, I entered a new chapter in my emotional journey. I began to talk about my wedding more openly, as I was no longer pretending I was too cool to even talk about it. People would tell me they don’t want a wedding like mine. They would rather spend the money on something worthwhile like travelling. And I experienced irritation, for the first time, that I would have once evoked in so many women before me.
I don’t expect everyone to want to get married or have a wedding like mine. I was irritated because I had spent an incredible amount of effort to get to a place where I could feel excited and deserving of nice things. I sorted through the guilt I felt about spending money. Of course, Tom deserves all the best things in the world, but not me. I haven't done enough, been good enough, or been worthy enough for any of these beautiful things or wonderful moments. I should just want the cheap plastic veil in the pub because I’m a clown, a joke, not a shiny bride.
Once I had finally overcome that hurdle and was excited about the wedding, people would respond with how cool and chill they are. I squirmed under the heat of judgement from both myself and others. I was no longer a chill-bride, so am I like… one of those brides? Now that there are emotional stakes, am I basic for caring about my wedding?
But every time I said the wedding wasn't a big deal, I was saying I wasn't worth the fuss.
“Whatever your fears are, a wedding will make you look at them…If you are ashamed or nervous about anything in your life, the wedding will uncover it.”
— Ella Risbridger, Weddings pt II on Sentimental Garbage Podcast
I am consistently confronting the fact that I have unreasonably high expectations of myself that are made even more challenging because I have to disguise these expectations under being super reasonable and self-aware.
Watching some of my closest friends get married has shown me that it is a skill to allow yourself to be celebrated and set yourself free to enjoy the spotlight. When it is them in the sun, I cry about how deserving they are of love. But when it is me, I’m frozen under the prison searchlight, caught out as the fraud and maniacal villain I imagine myself to be.
Princess Diana, Getty Images
Shaming women for their desires is a tradition that predates the institution of marriage. It’s not a coincidence that we get enjoyment out of putting women down for indulging themselves through their wedding. A wedding is certainly not our only opportunity to treat ourselves, but it feels like it is. Can we really blame brides for trudging into lunacy, knowing how they will be judged for their choices?
During the planning process, I uncovered many things I had secretly always wanted. Then, I had to muster up the courage to admit them despite the intense shame I felt for wanting anything at all.
There are, of course, horror stories of insane demands made by bride, groom, families, friends, and acquaintances. Everyone involved in a wedding are insects in a wide web of expectations. The role of the spider can be taken on by anyone and can change at any given moment. Yet simultaneously there is a special kind of camaraderie that unites a wedding party. Especially bridesmaids as they naturally form a military operation around protecting and helping the bride. (God I love women!!!!!)
Image from Pinterest
I have finally concluded that I am not the maniacal villain I imagine myself to be. I am a good partner, friend, daughter, and person. I deserve to enjoy and celebrate the love I have built with my best friend and soon-to-be husband. I will, despite protests, allow myself indulgence and joy. Now that I think about it, that’s pretty rock and roll.
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