Once upon a time the month of June seemed the ideal time for weddings. Days were generally sunny, the spring rains were over with, temperatures hadn’t yet cranked up to sweaty, bugs weren’t too pesky, there were plenty of flowers, families hadn’t yet headed for vacations, and Mother’s Day and graduations were over with.
There was also the added advantage of having most of the relatives available for a family reunion while they were in town. With the mild weather, it was possible to have the wedding – or at least the reception — at home, making use of the garage, patio or a rented tent.
Hollywood provided a blueprint for outdoor weddings, and British royalty showed us how to add elegance to what we had formerly looked upon as a picnic.
Paper tablecloths and Styrofoam ice chests became acceptable substitutes for embroidered linen and crystal punch bowls, stereos and DJ s replaced the string quartets and local dance bands, and guests were happy to replace the traditional flute of pink champagne with their favorite brew in an aluminum can.
One thing didn’t change for the sake of simplicity – the wardrobes of the wedding party. While guests were acceptable in casual wear, the bride and groom and their attendants became increasingly spectacular in their attire.
In former days, the elaborate wedding gown was mostly reserved for the very wealthy and movie make-believe. Brides, more often wore their “best dress” rather than satin and lace – those who did were either fabulously wealthy and greatly indulged by their daddies, or they, their mothers, sisters and aunts spent many hours constructing the wedding finery.
Grooms and groomsmen who didn’t own tuxedos or dinner jackets were usually clad in their Sunday suits or something borrowed. Matching bridesmaids’ dresses, cummerbunds, dyed satin shoes, boutonnieres, satin ribbons on aisle pews, balloons and little packets of tinted rice became tedious necessities.
Then came the pandemic and, with it, a measure of sanity. It was probably the threat of a lack of guests – or, more accurately, an audience – for the elaborate wedding productions that prompted so many couples to revert to small ceremonies at home, in church or the Registrar’s office.
Whatever the incentive, they discovered that they ended up just as married as those couples of the Big Production, that they saved a bunch of money and wouldn’t have to exchange so many unwanted wedding gifts, or write so many thank-you notes.
The once-given promise of a reception at some vague future date began, almost at once, to fade into a Maybe and continues to ebb in importance as life and the business of the marriage blot out the false glamour of the former obligatory hoopla.
Along with the limitations imposed by the Covid virus, we have experienced a most unusual spring that cast doubts on any expectations of typical weather acceptable as wedding days.
There are only three or four Saturdays in any June and there are many more prospective brides in any community than can be accommodated within so few days.
Weddings would have to be limited in time and space, with ceremonies scheduled in tight succession – taxing the clergy, janitors, restrooms, parking facilities and the birds who will be consuming all that birdseed that we hope substitutes for the deadly rice showered on the newly-weds as they emerge from the church.
As in pioneer days when many communities were served by circuit preachers who appeared rarely to perform weddings, baptisms and other needed ceremonies, many of today’s young couples live together for months, even years, and are known to start families before the wedding ceremony.
This has become acceptable to most of present-day society, and the wedding day itself, as a marked beginning of a marriage, has lost much of its significance. I guess we can thank the pandemic for making us, as a society, a lot more tolerant and honest than we once were.