The invitation nightmare

On my ever-growing list of things to do for the wedding, actually inviting people was not among the copious tasks written in caps, highlighted in bold or even underlined with a biro.

Having sent out a save the date several months ago and spoken directly to at least half of the daytime guest list about their plans for how to get there/where to stay/what to wear I had – somewhat naively it turned out – assumed that once the invitations went out all we would have to contend with would be a flurry of excited yeses and perhaps the odd musing on dress choice.

But, my goodness, was I wrong. Firstly, getting hold of the invitations was a saga matched only by that of choosing the venue in terms of time and energy lost. Arguments about making them ourselves (something I was dead against given the time involved and the fact that it really wasn't much cheaper), fear that we'd left it too late to order what we wanted (some places said it would be eight weeks before we'd have them) and a convoluted and unnecessarily unpleasant exchange with Confetti over the fact that it took more than a month before we received the invites and that they were then not even the same size or colour as the sample and came with envelopes which were half glued shut (no apology or recompense for any of that by the way – don't shop at Confetti).

But the real stress has actually come from our guests. Fall-out from the no-children policy, whispers on the family grapevine that certain people can't be bothered to come and also, it would seem, can't be bothered to tell us they aren't, heated exchanges over who gets a room and why so-and-so has to get one if so-and-so-other does, it just goes on and on. Every day for the past week I've wanted to call the whole thing off – and we haven't even got to the table plan yet.

Don't get me wrong, I really, really want the 60 or so people we've invited to share our big day with us to come – and to enjoy themselves so much their feet and heads both ache the next day. But – and forgive me if this sounds selfish – weddings really aren't about the guests. Weddings are about the bride and groom and the fact that they have decided to stand up and publicly agree to spend the rest of their lives together. And I'd be saying that whether it was me marching down the aisle or not. Of course we've thought in great depth about our guests and the logistics they're facing but ultimately we have to go with the wedding that's right for us – I just hope people will understand. And that those yeses will start rolling in.

Suited and booted

With just three months to go until the wedding, my husband-to-be has still not sorted his suit. This, I'm sure, is a familiar statement to many brides, and one which I can't decide if I should be annoyed/worried about or not.

The groom's suit is a funny thing. It's his version of the dress but the importance placed on it is so different as to be incomparable. I began cutting dress pictures out of magazines as soon as we got engaged; he wasn't even sure if he wanted tails or a suit. I visited seven bridal boutiques over two weeks with my best friends; he popped into Moss Bros alone on his lunchbreak. I spent thousands; he will struggle to spend £100.

But the real difference isn't the general amount of preparation and thought that goes into it, but the people involved. Because, of course, I am allowed to see "the suit" but if he even glimpsed a picture of "the dress" the earth would presumably spin off its axis and the wedding gods would rain floral centre pieces and engagement rings down upon us all. And therein lies the problem – the suit is yet another thing on my to do list.

Don't get me wrong, I want to help him choose the most important outfit he'll ever wear. And not just because I want to make sure he gets something he's comfortable in and doesn't clash with the bridesmaids, but because it's a nice thing to do together. But it's not the only thing we have to do. We have food to select, wines to taste, gazebos to buy (a new development I won't go into here), invitations to print (god, we're late on that front), honeymoon hotels to book, decorations to buy/make, flowers to approve, readings and vows to choose.... if I go on my head will explode.

With just three months to go, just 13 weeks before the big day, just 89 days left to achieve everything in, I'm starting to panic just a smidge. We are organised but every day this week has some wedding-related task in the diary and Rough Guides' wedding email people saw fit to drop a cheerful reminder about that damn suit into my inbox just this morning. So those stress levels are rising. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment at Moss Bros to get to.

Standing Naked in Front of Strangers

When you go to the gym there are always those women who wander around stark naked, confident as anything. I’m not one of them, tending more towards cowering in corners than brazenly strutting my stuff, and so when I decided to do a boudoir shoot as an engagement present to my boyfriend I was more than a little nervous about being on display.

It would have been so easy to let my nerves get the better of me and pull out, but knowing that my boyfriend sees something different than I do when I look in the mirror, I was determined to go ahead with the shoot in the hope it would snap things into focus and force me to see what he does – making me feel better about those impending wedding pictures to boot.

In the week up to the shoot I indulged in slightly panicky underwear shopping and increasingly desperate calls to my friend Vicky (who was also to be photographed) about what to bring, and almost had a nervous breakdown when I discovered I would need to turn up completely au naturel in the make-up department.

Fortunately none of this mattered and despite arriving bra-less (to avoid marks), not wearing a scrap of make-up or a dollop of hair product and loaded up with enough shoes and dresses for a week in Marbella, we found ourselves lulled into immediate relaxation by the warm welcome of the Alter Ego team.

The first hour or so of the day was spent having tea, chatting about fashion with photographer Martin Plant and his assistant Lola and being wonderfully beautified by hair and make-up artist Toni Perryman. I loved having my hair curled into soft, sexy waves with the hot rollers and seeing myself transformed by those magic make-up brushes, so much so that I forgot entirely why I was there – a sensation helped along by a glass or two of prosecco.

By the time it came to changing into my extremely sexy basque from Joanna’s Wardrobe I felt completely at ease with Martin and Lola, but perhaps not the camera. Fortunately Martin has a tactic for this and started the shoot with a few fully-clothed portraits by the window. He gave me a few tips on relaxing my face and by the time we’d captured the shots I felt much better about staring down the lens.

Now feeling much more comfortable with the idea of being photographed, I felt no qualms about being dressed in just a basque and heels and began to enjoy coming up with poses with Lola, who has a seemingly never-ending catalogue of ideas to draw on. We began with a few shots using a scene of trunks and suitcases, some of which are genuine articles donated by Martin’s mum, an ex-Wren. I wore a trench coat, open to reveal my stockings, in some and in others just the basque. I also climbed inside the trunk, kicking my legs in the air, hid behind a pretty pink parasol revealing just my stockings and naked shoulders and perched on a pink and white striped chest of draws in a silky dressing gown.

As the poses became more ambitious, so did I, and now really getting into it, time began to fly. For our next scene Martin and Lola changed the backdrop to blue and set up a picnic rug. Dressed this time in a full 1950s skirt and a tied-at-the-waist white blouse I posed for shots lying down reading a magazine and leaning over in front of the wind machine for a Marilyn Monroe-style cheeky reveal.

Back in the basque we did more shots lying down, some of my legs resting on a chair, some close-up stocking shots on a white fluffy rug. Now completely relaxed I was keen to do more but it was Vicky’s turn so I took the opportunity for a rest and had lunch and yet more prosecco as I watched Martin and Lola come up with slightly different shots for Vicky.

Seeing some of the shots I’d been doing from the perspective of the viewer made me realise how great I had probably looked and that there really was no need to fear looking unattractive. This realisation was fortunate because next up was a rather acrobatic shot on a metal chair. With both feet on the seat, Lola demonstrated how to push ourselves up with our arms and lean back, creating a triangular shape with our bodies. Harder than it looks this was tough on the thighs but probably one of the shots most likely to end up in the album. As Vicky had said on the drive up, the shots that feel the least sexy are generally the sexiest.

With the shoot drawing to a close Martin suggested we change into anything we had really wanted photographed which hadn’t been. A cream babydoll was the obvious choice for me, it being one of my boyfriend’s favourites, and I changed somewhat regretfully out of my now-much-loved basque for some shots on the sofa.

Vicky and I took similar shots lying down on the sofa, leaning on the armrest and looking straight into the camera but for me there was one thing missing. Feeling much more confident than when I’d arrived that morning, I asked Martin if we could do some bum shots. Dressed in far too much lingerie for this, he sent me to change and I choose what was probably the briefest underwear I had. After a shot lying down we ended on one I thought I’d never have the confidence to do – a full-length standing shot. Turned away from everyone and facing just the backdrop being nearly naked seemed like nothing to worry about and when Martin suggested that if I was feeling brave enough the shot would work better bra-less I found myself happy enough to be standing in front of three people I’d never met before in just a thong.

Feeling proud of my courage I was almost sorry to return to civilian clothes – as well as desperate to see the fruits of my new-found body confidence and start choosing my album. Returning a few days later, some of my previous niggles about how I might look had returned but a glass or two of wine and the candle-scented studio put me immediately at ease and took the focus off the big screen set up in front of me.

Viewing the slideshow of Martin’s carefully selected 70 or so best shots was a revelation. The details of the shoot somewhat hazy, I could hardly believe I had done some of the poses that appeared on screen, and was sure the woman in the photos couldn’t possibly be me. The hard part, it turned out, was not to be coming face to face with how I looked but loving too many of the shots. My album was meant to be a selection of 10 shots but after several rounds of edits we were still left with more than 30 images. Despite Martin pulling up the similar ones to help me pick the best and most varied bunch, in the end I just couldn’t delete any more and had to settle on 23 – a much bigger haul of beautiful pictures of myself than I ever thought possible.

Having seen the results I now know how much I would have lost had I chickened out. I may not quite be ready to wander around those changing rooms naked just yet, but I do feel a lot more confident about my body – and a lot more likely to be happy with what I see in the mirror.

Getting personal?

Weddings always include certain unassailable things – vows, speeches, cake, some form of alcoholic beverage - but these are not the things that make it a wedding. Yes, it doesn't feel right if noone throws a bouquet and someone doesn't cry but what really makes a wedding is the personal touch.

Without something to make your wedding yours, something which couldn't have been at any other wedding, is it doomed to merge into every other wedding ever performed? In years to come people won't remember what they ate or whether it was real champagne or fake fizz they drank to toast your nuptials, but they will remember a unique first dance, red wedding dress or truly heartfelt speech by someone special.

So how can you come up with those unique, quirky touches to add to your big day? This is the question that is currently plaguing me as I move out of the early days of "do we want a church or civil ceremony?" and "what kind of dress do I want?" territory and into the frills, bows, bells and whistles territory of the decoration, music and entertainment.

Do I want a choreographed first dance? Should we hire some sort of entertainment other than music? Is it a good idea to use photos of ourselves as decorations or is this a bit navel-gazing? All these questions and many more way more specific ones to do with top secret possible extras are currently swimming around in my head along with the million and one other things we really ought to have sorted by now such as flowers and the groom's outfit.

Unfortunately all this brings me to the even scarier realm of mid-night questions about how well I know myself and my husband-to-be. What do people know us for? When our friends talk about us what do they say? And what do they really think of us anyway?
Clearly this has gone too far but the point is that unless you have something obviously outstanding about yourself, perhaps to do with your job, a hobby or your family background, it's very difficult to know what's "you" – at least to other people. There's little point throwing something so personal nobody gets it into the mix but taking a step back from yourself and thinking about what will make your wedding you is a formidable task - and one which no wedding magazine or website can really help you with.

The answer seems to be to add any quirky things you really want to add, get as many people close to you involved as possible (especially when it comes to readings, speeches and even performances) and try not to panic about whether your wedding will be memorable. Whatever happens it will be to you, and that's what really matters.

Are wedding books worth the paper they're written on?

I am nothing if not well researched and shortly after I got engaged I put in a rather embarrassingly large order to Amazon for wedding-related books (not to mention the arm-busting, carrier-bag-bursting trip to WHSmith for those seemingly essential wedding mags) and I've read every last one avidly, but are any of these "helpful" tomes really worth the paper they're written on?

My first read was A Modern Girl's Guide to Getting Hitched by Sarah Ivens. Considering myself to be one of these eponymous modern brides I thought this would prove useful but after a quick once-over, it's been languishing underneath various bridal catalogues in the "wedding corner" (actually a disorganised pile) of our living room ever since. I think the problem with this one is that it's all bullet points and advice-laden lists a la coffee-table book but comes in the flimsy format of a holiday paperback. This does, to be fair, make it easy to carry around, but also means it lacks a certain authority somehow - at least to me. There are helpful tips in here on everything from "coming to terms with never being able to pull men again" to "learning to accept your big day is over" and lots of the smaller details are covered in depth. However I personally found some of the advice a little obvious, some even to the point of assuming the reader has undergone some sort of lobotomy along with their engagement - do I really need to be reminded that "parents should always be first to hear of an engagement" or that "a tester fling with an ex is not a good idea"? Perhaps some brides do...

Next I read Laura Bloom's The Wedding Diaries which focuses on "how to get married in style without breaking the bank". This book is written as a diary so is more personal than A Modern Girl's Guide and unfortunately for me this was its downfall. As much as I love to hear about other weddings, it's going to take one that I really want to emulate for me to plough through over 200 pages of detail about it and this one just isn't that wedding. Although useful in theory, the amount of financial figures in this book made me all-too-concerned about costs and I question the relevance of listing everything to the pound when costs change so frequently anyway - and are so caught up in location, timing and exact specifications. If budget is your main concern, this book could be great but if you'd rather dream big then Laura isn't the right bride to follow.

Another, more obviously "useful" book I ended up with was The Step by Step Guide to Planning Your Wedding by Lynda Wright. Less a book than a workbook this is packed with checklists and suggestions for everything from bible readings to cake sizes. Due to the lack of things to actually read, this book hasn't emerged from the pile of wedding paraphernalia since it was purchased and, to be honest, is probably headed straight back there. Too much like school, not enough romance. Although brides who need someone else to organise them could do well with this.

More recently I bought Lucy Mangan's The Reluctant Bride. This chronological tale from engagement to wedding is more entertaining than most bridal books but if you don't like Lucy now you definitely won't after this. A humourous story this may be but with Lucy constantly painting herself as the fool, by the end of the book it's hard to take the wedding seriously and as the newlyweds leave their own painstakingly (actually, more just painfully) organised bash at around 8pm it left me realising all-too-late that, for me at least, this was a handbook to how not to do it.

But it's not all dross out there and my most recent two purchases have earned pride of place on the wedding pile. For a truly instructive guide which covers everything from the ceremony to the gift list, the Rough Guide to Weddings is the best out there. There are quotes from past brides and grooms in here but the focus is on what needs to be done, when and how and everything is laid out simply and in sensible chapter order. Advice is low-key, explaining the obvious without those "well, duh" moments and getting into the nitty gritty without being dogmatic about traditions or what you should and shouldn't be doing. This is coffee-table content in coffee-table format, and as such has been sitting on ours since it arrived, being referred to as and when we think of something we're not too sure about. Perfect.

My other favourite has been Confessions of a Wedding Planner by Tamryn Kirby - literally everything I was looking for in a wedding book. Funny, heart-warming, informative and enlightening, it focuses on Tamryn's rise from newbie to wedding coordinator extraordinaire and tells the tales of many a wedding, both good and bad. There are tips in here but the best don't come from lists, they come from the stories of past weddings - which, in reality, is exactly where they should do.

All in all I've come to the conclusion that wedding books must only be taken with a pinch of salt. I have such set ideas about what I want (surely, so does any bride) that no past wedding is going to be exactly what I'm looking for, so those "my experience" diary-style guides are not very helpful - and because every wedding is different, the list-heavy guide-style books are often prone to irrelevance. As with the magazines, wedding books are not to be followed by the letter, they are at best entertaining and/or instructive, and at worst infuriating and/or dull. Keep me away from Amazon...

Is it the thought that counts?

The last wedding I'll attend as a fiance (unless any of my friends are planning any rather sudden nuptials this winter) is fast approaching and with it the thorny issue of the gift list has raised its head.

Of course, we all expect to get the bride and groom something when we attend a wedding and buying them something is all part of the excitement of attending, but personally I really would rather buy them something (ie an actual present) rather than donate towards their honeymoon, loft extension or, worst of all, their actual wedding. Am I the only person who still likes to turn up to a wedding with a lovingly gift-wrapped box?!

Is it just me or is asking for money to be paid into your account just plain rude? I should hasten to add that it is not this wedding that is asking this of us but it does appear to be a growing trend and it's one that I (and I suspect many others) am really not comfortable with. A gift list at Trailfinders is one thing, it's quite another to just include your account number and sort code with the invitation, surely?

Having given this much thought for our own wedding, we have decided to have an actual gift list. This way, we will have numerous things in our home which will not only remind us of our wedding but also of the people who bought them for us. My mum still has a (slightly hideous admittedly) ornament which she remembers being given by her mother-in-law for her wedding and lots of people of my parents' generation have wedding china that is still treated with reverence to this day.

Of course, a honeymoon is essential and if you can't afford it yourselves it's a lovely gift to have it paid for by family and friends. But what if those friends can barely afford their own holiday this year? How are they going to feel about paying for your five-star sojourn? I'd wager far worse than they'll feel about contributing a tenner towards my John Lewis bath towels.

The gift list, I'm discovering, is every bit as personal as the wedding itself. We all have our own views on money and what it should be spent on – and shouldn't we have some right to choose what our contribution pays for? I would be much happier buying a specific experience for the couple to have on honeymoon (a scuba diving lesson or romantic dinner, for example) than I would be handing over a cheque to Kuoni and I'd much rather put money towards the deposit on the couple's first home than refund them the cost of my own dinner.

But perhaps I'm looking at this all wrong? Maybe it isn't for the guests to say what the money is spent on, but for the couple to decide for themselves? Money given as a gift should always be given without conditions, after all, and if the bride and groom want to spend my dosh on the chocolate fountain for their big day maybe that's ok. I'd still rather turn up with a lovingly giftwrapped box but if an envelope would be better received then who am I to argue?

Dress stress

Not normally one to fixate on one issue to the exclusion of all others, or obsess about something superficial for weeks on end, the pressure of picking a wedding dress has come as something of a surprise to me.

I didn't expect to stress about such a (relatively) unimportant life choice so much but it turns out that I am, after all, a complete girl! Of all the decisions in life we have to make, choosing a wedding dress may not be up there with selecting a partner, buying a house or deciding on a career path but it is after all something you have to live with forever. It lives on in photographs and will forever become part of your image of yourself - the pressure heaped on this particular garment is huge.

But fortunately I've found it. Yes, after visiting numerous boutiques, trying on more than 50 dresses and agonising over terrible mobile phone pictures of them all it turned out to be easy. Going back to three of the best shops and showing the top six dresses to my mum and mother-in-law-to-be turned out to narrow it down better and faster than I could ever have hoped. Everyone said I would "know it was the one" when I saw it but as I hadn't the first time around I was worried I really wouldn't.

How wrong I was. Of the six, one simply stood out and it couldn't have been more obvious had it sprouted legs and tapped me on the shoulder. I have no qualms about the dresses I ultimately rejected, I'm not mooning over them or wondering if I've made the right choice, and those mobile phone pictures can be deleted without a care. I've chosen the dress I want to marry my Douglas in - and I couldn't be more relieved! Just nine months until I can share it with you all...

Do you, Helen, take this dress....?

Over the past month I’ve plundered the pages of every wedding magazine in Smiths, logged on to so many Flash-happy dress designer websites I swear my glasses prescription has changed and visited enough bridal boutiques to confidently advise anyone looking to open one (don’t employ snooty staff, by the way, is rule number one).

And what do I have to show for this monumental effort? A short list of six (six!) dresses, all of which I really like but none of which I love to the point of tearing up in front of the mirror, and a diary packed with follow-up fittings and punctuated with angrily Biro-ed out former appointments which bit the dust when I saw something so obviously better/examined the photos on my camera/decided I wasn’t a demure/statement/traditional/modern bride.

The problem, you see, is that I can wear anything. Yes, I know, I’m very lucky etc and blah, but in this case I’d kill for someone to just say “hmmm, this style really isn’t for you is it” in that thoughtful yet firm way bridal shop staff do as they start unlacing you and herding you back behind the curtain.

Because I’m stuck, basically. I’ve tried fishtail and mermaid, beaded and lacy, A-line and drop-waisted, ivory and taupe, ruched and corseted – and all have been ok. Not “wow I never want to take it off again”, but “ok I could wear this to walk down the aisle”.

But is that enough? Any of the six remaining dresses (which, to be fair, fall broadly into two camps so it’s a little more 50/50 than it sounds) would look good, feel great and make for some lovely photos. Each one has made me examine myself happily from all angles and feel like I am actually getting married – something which nothing has succeeded in doing before now. But shouldn’t I be bursting with happiness and wiping my eyes demurely as I whisper “this is the one” a la Hollywood? It sounds such a cliché but so many people have said I’ll know when I see it, that I’m actually expecting to.

Perhaps on my second lap of London’s bridal boutiques I’ll feel it. Maybe one of the six will leap out declaring itself as “my” dress and I’ll be able to picture myself walking down that aisle at last. Maybe someone will pull a previously absent dress from the rails, I’ll put it on and boom, all bets are off. Or possibly I’m just going to have to narrow it down to the one that looks the best and suits the venue. When it comes to picking a wedding dress, how sure is sure enough?

What wedding dress?

According to those pesky all-pink-and-white wedding magazines and their never-ending glossy pages of checkbox-packed lists it is now officially time to start looking for my wedding dress.

Not only have they told me this but they've also screeched (not literally of course, that's just how I imagine they speak) that this is "the fun part" and that there will be "literally hundreds to choose from".

Is it wrong that this terrifies me? Anything that's lauded as "fun" sets me on edge anyway (it's what people say about karaoke and I hate karaoke) but it's the sheer range of choices that I know I am about to be presented with that really has me breaking out in a cold sweat.

I tend to make decisions fairly rashly it has to be said. If someone calls with a last-minute invite I'm there in a flash, I take on large work projects without knowing fully what's involved and I normally buy clothes on impulse on unplanned Tuesday afternoon pre-drinking shopping sprees. Making a premeditated purchase after scouring magazines and websites and visiting numerous boutiques to try endless options is not very, well, me.

Which leads me to my other problem. What kind of dress is "me"? There are strapless and halterneck, scoop neck and square neck, cap sleeves and cape-sleeved, knee-length and floor-length, off-white and almost-white, retro and cutting-edge, informal and formal...the list goes on and my head starts spinning. I tend to think of myself as someone who's reasonably up on fashion but this is a whole new world, one with its own language and rules and which until now has remained totally off my radar.

So, how will I know what to choose? Will I even end up in the right shops? And most importantly, is it likely to be any fun? I guess I'm about to find out...

Hedonism v hiking: what is a honeymoon?

Doug and I have just got back from a three-week trip to Peru which, before flying out, had been labelled a "holiday". We arrived on the Tuesday and by the Friday (and our third pre-6am wake-up call in a row) this was no longer a word I was able to utter without a wry laugh to myself (yes, some people thought I was a loon but that's the beauty of travel, the next day they were gone).

Having abandoned all hopes of lazing, lounging or generally sleeping in past 9am, by the time we began the Inca Trail I was enjoying my "trip" and getting into the swing of every-other-day relocations by bus, train or plane and the resulting almost-alcohol-free early nights.

So imagine my surprise when one couple in our walking group casually unveiled the H word. Yes, they were on honeymoon. In a tent. Wearing thermals. Carrying walking poles. I was aghast.

Now I should qualify that I don't believe in fly 'n' flop travel and won't be sunning myself in the Maldives for a week post-wedding while someone brings me cocktails and fans me with palm leaves. However, I do think that a honeymoon should be relaxing, at least a bit luxurious and generally focused on romance rather than roughing it.

Planning a wedding is a full-time job which, more often than not, has to be fitted around an existing full-time job, it's stressful, involves mothers and mother-in-laws and usually results in at least one minor break-down at some stage. Therefore, surely recuperation should be the name of the game when it comes to boarding that first flight as Mr and Mrs?

But perhaps I'm barking up the wrong tree. With travel increasingly accessible (and affordable) most brides and grooms have seen a fair portion of the world, be it together or separately, before the wedding – so is the honeymoon actually about exploring thusfar-undiscovered territory together? Is adventure more important than battery-recharging?

The average honeymoon now costs £3,860 which seems like a hell of a lot of money to spend on a trip which simply involves being horizontal (whether on a sun lounger or, ahem, elsewhere) so are there actually thousands of couples heading off on similarly adventurous honeymoons? And if so, why do we never hear about them? Every wedding magazine I've picked up in the last six months has focused on sun, sand and sea destinations usually found in either the Caribbean or the Indian Ocean. They are so samey and so obviously irrelevant to me that I actually skip the travel pages – and I'm someone who subscribes to at least five monthly travel mags.

Personally I'm planning a honeymoon which falls nicely between the two extremes: there won't be any hiking but there will be adventure, and although I don't intend to spend every waking moment on a sun lounger, we will be sitting on a beach, cocktails in hand, at least for the first day. Planning the honeymoon is every bit as personal as planning the wedding, and it requires exactly the same level of research, organisation and consideration – so why is it so often an afterthought, shoved to the back of the bridal magazines and relegated to last-minute decisions and pin-the-tail-on-the-map randomness?

Perhaps it's only this important to me. Am I the only bride pouring over travel guides and world maps just as much as dress advertising and floral arrangements? Or has the humble honeymoon become almost as important as the wedding?