Indelible

In the design of this program and our invitations, we aimed to render in paper and ink what we experience together in spirit. In this design, we are able to see ourselves, as one, in our own narrative.

We asked our designer Christina, of Echo Letterpress, to take an unsorted aggregation of elements and make a real design out of it.
The programs and invitations assemble specific cues from our respective cultures into one design as one new ideal. From the Philippines you can see the sampaguita, the narra, and the anahaw; from Trinidad and Tobago, the chaconia, hummingbird's, and the steel pan. Christina did a fantastic job we think. She suffered through our rambling presentations via teleconference and made sense of our musings, and made them a reality.

Working with Christina to put this together, we found, in the heart of our wedding planning, an opportunity to search ourselves and our own cultures for symbols and sentiments of meaning, and to make something new and beautiful from them together. And we thereby reaffirm our passion in our belief that difference can transcend---that it can create something new, perfect and indelible.

Kasal Sheryl at Jay

Many important wedding planning events have gone unblogged. There is time to circle back to tea lights and catering tents, or maybe not, but the most compelling and relevant report is from our trip last month to the Philippines. It was an invaluable opportunity to know my fiancee better, to put image into her narrative; and to understand myself, as one bound to her through the past eight years and for many more to come, in a new way.

After separate 22 plus hour journeys we arrived in Manila in the middle of the night, United Airlines' grim clutches sweetly giving way to Mary's aunt Henriet's house in Quezon City. Ate Henriet's grace and hospitality was constant and thorough. If I can recall a moment of inconvenience it was for lack of sufficient insight into my own needs.

A couple frenzied and morbidly jet-lagged days later, barong tagolog pressed and ready, it was Jay and Sheryl's wedding in Manila. Packed into Kuya Wency's minivan in full rank of seven, we made our way to the church. Fits of rain roaring off the roof, jeepneys dropped their plastic screens, we ground through downtown traffic like an icebreaker crunching to the north pole. The coordinator arrived and hewed a ceremony from the idling throng. The reception was at the close by Shangri-la. Jay and Sheryl, donning red dress for the exhibition, did a rhumba number for their first dance.

A few days after the wedding we flew to Boracay for our proper vacation. Clearly rustic, however mobbed by Burberry swathed tourists, in Boracay you feel the fresh sensation of being off the map. The ride on rickety boats across the turquoise lagoon from the airport to the island, perched on wooden planks, spray booming in your face as outriggers slam surf, confirms with a hint of danger that your are properly off the grid. Never mind that the blackberry works just fine, growling ignorantly.

Our hotel, the Tides Boracay, booked by Jay an Sheryl for all of us, fit the bill. Beautiful rooms, a roof top pool, and a daily breakfast making rising easy, made it an experience to savor. Even the constant drilling and hammering going on (the hotel was very new, i.e., unfinished) couldnt spoil it. A few dozen yards down a sand avenue, we reached the narrow sparkling beach. We got in a couple days of sun and sand before the rains set in. Rainy season in the Philippines is not an approximation or a relative concept. It rained furiously at some point each day, some days all day, stiff winds firing the fine sand between the wind breaks. But many joyous meals and long evenings with lining up empty San Miguels made it moot---it was why we were in that place: being with family, learning and relearning each other, was the joy. Some of us were born in the Philippines, but most all called home somewhere else, and brought from those places distinct minds and spirits to share.

Back in Manila again, we had a few more touristic missions to complete. We visited Villa Escudero, where we spent a couple days eating and swimming in the giant two level pool. We had lunch under the waterfall, and toured the Escudero museum. It didnt rain, but we got the other flavor of July filipino weather, withering heat. The cultural show at Escudero was expertly done, the costumes and preparation showed practice and detail.

After Villa Escudero, we also made a run for Pansanjan falls, but were thwarted when a car vaulted the bridge on the approaching road just before we reached it, seizing traffic for good. We made a U-turn and made for Tagaytay, on the other flank of Laguna. The faint comedy of this turn underscored the sensual terror of driving in the Philippines. Overcoming the ambient forces of traffic is an act basically of will.

A practised Filipino driver is an study in mindfulness and calm. Its a perpetual evacuation from everywhere. Young nurses in crisp whites tear between lanes on the back of motorbike taxis, every intersection is a dogfight for angle and position, Jeepneys pile with commuters, kerchiefs pressed to passengers' faces against the horrid polution, infant bearing pedestrians vault into traffic from every inch of curb, and outsized commuter buses and trucks drape black sheets of smoke over the whole thing. Observing Manila traffic's irrythmia fills a lot of your time there. Because it must, if you want to go anywhere.

We also made a tour of Intramuros and Fort Santiago, monument to national hero Jose Rizal, and simultaneously, head scratchingly, to the former Spanish government and its church. Simultaneous ardent nationalism and bereaved nostalgia for past masters is a knife edge of filipino cultral conciousness.

Having also sprung from a culture also born in the mirroring grace and savagery of Spanish colonialism, civilized and enslaved under the same cross, I could recognize the irreconcilable sentiments of a colonial people trying at once to know another's traditions as its very own as its public face, and to value itself properly as an ancient an indellible presence on this earth. You come to know more about a country where tiny chemists selling nothing but skin whitening creams sprout from rural roadsides and nearly everyone which two pesos to rub together has her malay or chinese nose rebuilt as a conquistador's. Reading Rizal's biography on the plane ride home, I found a story that spoke to me personally, and which I believe should speak to colonial peoples trying to reconcile its sentiments---and who want to like being ancient.

The Food

The story here is very likely. We ran into Laura at the Expo. She had Swedish meatballs, claimed to know our site, and did the food for our friends' wedding a couple years back. We could not remember the food at that wedding, but no matter. The meatballs cleansed the palate from those innumerable platelets of cake.

So, a few weeks of dithering later, we drove down to R&R Catering's Deathstar orbiting the beltway in Springfield, VA one morning to see what we could taste. We pulled into the compound, nestled in a desolate industrial park that was in fact some distance from Springfield's saucy urban glow. The SYSCO eighteen-wheelers crowding the parking lot evoked the school cafeteria loading dock, and promised flavor free economy. However, once inside R and R's tiny Tuscan dining salon, just off the lobby of their cubicle farm, the food spoke for itself and at length. It was the best breakfast I'd had in a long time.

With a full stomach and well satisfied, we handed over plastic and the deal was done. Certain details are yet to be resolved. Sit down versus buffet, decoration, other things. But we can mark this one off more or less.

Dress salons: The good, the bad, and the ugly

As promised, here are the wedding salons I went to and a brief review:

1. Priscilla of Boston, Tyson's Corner - My consultant was nice, hands-off and let us take pictures. She followed up with a few phone calls.

2. Nicole Miller, Tyson's II - Small shop known for dresses but their wedding gowns are more suited for beach and other informal weddings. Quality did not merit the costs of the gowns.

3. Demetrios Salon at Macy's, Tyson's II - My sister and I walked in without an appointment after seeing a sign on our way out of Tyson's after leaving Nicole Miller. They were very nice and accommodating, allowed us to take pictures. Dresses were okay but the over all impression I got was that the quality was not as nice.

4. Ellie's, Old Town Alexandria - We had an appointment but I didn't really get any help from a consultant since it was a really busy Saturday. My sister and I sneaked in a few snapshots in the dressing room - probably only possible since my consultant was helping other people.

5. Hannelore's, Old Town Alexandria - I had a really nice consultant and tried on gorgeous dresses - dresses I saw in magazines that I had fallen in love with. One of the final 4 dresses was from here. My consultant let us take a few pictures but I don't think you're really allowed to. The fitting rooms were nice and large - great customer service. But I hear that that's not necessarily the case after you order a dress through them.

5. Katherine's, Old Town Alexandria - Dresses here are more affordable but quality is still really nice. My first consultant was nice enough but not really accommodating or friendly. Since one of the four finalists came from this store, I asked for another consultant on my second visit. The other consultant was amazing and showed me many ways to accessorize the dress. I found THE dress here. They don't allow pictures.

6. Jeannette's, Manassas - The folks here seem really nice and down to earth. My consultant was amazing and spent almost two hours with me - I went on a Monday morning. The great thing about this store is that they have affordable wedding dresses as well as more couture dresses. One of the dresses I tried on here was a finalist. They don't allow pictures.

7. David's Bridal, Springfield - I figure I'd try going here even though I had heard such horror stories. It was a completely different experience - dresses can be bought off the rack and most are under $300. But after trying on such high-quality dresses, I was spoiled and couldn't forget how the other dresses I tried on were softer and of better quality.

8. Lady Hamilton, Arlington - I had an amazing, patient consultant. A dress here made it to the finals. When I went for my second appointment I tried on a dress that hadn't been there before - it was there because they had a trunk show. That dress - a Marisa dress - really helped me decide the style and look I wanted. In the end I did not go with the finalist nor the Marisa dress from here.

9. Promise for the Savvy Bride, Bethesda - This is the only place that I didn't go to with my sister, instead I went with two girlfriends. I tried on some gorgeous dresses. The consultants were super nice and they also allow you to take pictures of your favorites.

The Dress

I did it, I chose the dress. We chose the first reception hall we saw and the first photographer we met. Well, this is no different - the dress is based on the first dress that I ever fell in love with. That's all that I will say.

The process in finding the perfect dress was long and ardous. I went to nine salons and tried on about 80 to 90 dresses! (See my next post - reviews of the salons) I know it seems a lot, but at each outing I went on - I got better and better at finding the type of dresses or elements of dresses that worked best for my body type.

Trying on dresses can be overwhelming and after trying on many dresses - it's hard to remember one from the other. I couldn't have done it without my matron of honor, my ever patient sister. She got me in the dresses, took detailed notes, and provided great insight and advice. After visiting the nine salons I narrowed down the dresses to four finalists and then brought in my mom to help me with the decision. In the end, we all agreed on the dress. I'm very excited and happy with my choice.

Now, I just have to find all the accessories, shoes, etc...

Holga Power

Finding a photographer marks another milestone in the planning. We did it. As a core aesthetic element, it was in the first tier of arrangements we wanted to pin down. The person we've chosen is Linda Crayton. We interviewed a number of photographers and, classically, she was the first person we saw.


Interviewing photographers, I was never really sure what we are supposed to find out from them, at least what we could not see on their typically luxurious websites. Of course, at the least, one should meet the person who will be hanging around your family and best friends for a few hours without your mediation. This person, unlike, say, the priest or the caterer, will be part of your wedding -- she will be a guest. In this regard, we were less thrilled with one pair whose lair, I mean, studio, featured a pool table for their "boudoir" pictures (briefly, nudes with awkward leg crossing poses). The unforunate pictures were also in evidence. This couple also insisted they would do whatever we wanted, which, as I said before, is not helpful. Another couple we met in their ultra-professional studio and we were professionally charmed. But they cost too much. Another guy, we met in a Starbucks in Bethesda, next to a long separated duo reconnecting furtively across bustling freeway of sexual tension and lattes, and a women in pastel sweats at a crackling laptop. Nice pictures, though.

We drove out to Linda Crayton's Great Falls rambler where we saw more of what is on the luxurious website. Albums sold for more than used Hondas, precious little books of perfect proofs, CDRoms, all that. She showed us her fabulous digital equipment, answering my boldly ignorant technical questions. I could have been looking at a nuclear bomb. We also saw the pictures of flowers in her powder room and the photo of her and her husband at a Moulin Rouge party in the hallway. This party reportedly may be associated with the birth of their first towheaded toddler. In her studio we noted interesting framed prints -- square, raw yet ethereal. These were taken with a Holga. The Holga is budget -- it has an actual socialist history -- and a plastic lens. Facility with this simple instrument showed curiosity, personal passion and possible virtuosity. I hope that rings true in the results.

Pictures

Photography may not seem like the most urgent matter at this stage, but I reckon it has the potential to consume wads of time. So we resolved to start the consumption early. Photography is a detail inviting ruinous micromanagement---we all now have nice cameras and take many many pictures. Some of them are pretty nice. One might thus easily presume that a professional can be given good advice on how to do their job. But I know that's wrong. I'm trying to back away from that illusion, and take a more reasonable approach.

Foremost, we want a photographer that knows what to do. At the bridal expo we met lots of photographers who told us they focus on giving clients exactly what they want. I don't tell my clients that what I want is to give them exactly the summary judgement motion they want. What I want is for the photographer's to take good pictures (and to take the necessary battery of family shots).

Luckily my fiancee and I have similar ideas about what we want in terms of style -- when we find it, we plan to let the photographer do her thing unmolested by hacks' advice. As for that style, we are taken with the current fashion of "journalistic" slash "documentary" wedding shots. These tags imply that the pictures capture, with the unbiased and searching eye of the responsible professional journalist, the unvarnished sentiment of moments, in lieu of some staged presentation. Obviously, the pictures only capture the look of being unvarnished. Substance as style is the modern cry for authenticity in a mostly fabricated world, or something. I feel like we may be coming in mid-fad into a hackneyed academic trope, but we like how it looks. And it wouldn't be the first time.

Letting a photographer loose requires that she is good, at technique and in compositions. I.e., we don't want numerous close ups of wine glasses and shoes. But while we prefer an artist with a point of view, so to speak, we don't want an angry auteur making giving every photo the unnegotiably raw power of the subject. People must look good in the pictures. We've begun searching for this reasonable auteur in some instructive conversations discussed in forthcoming entries.

Decision #1: Location

One of the first things my fiancé and I agreed on when we began wedding planning was the kind of venue we wanted. Country clubs, plantations, and hotels were definitely out. This narrowed our choices to houses and gardens.

The first time we saw Hendry House we were unable to actually go inside the house. But we walked around the grounds and peeked into the windows. We liked it enough to come back for more. We fell even more in love with the house when we had a walk through with Sharon, the site coordinator. The grounds, the house and it's locale were perfect. Arlington is, after all, one of Dave's great loves - after me, orange juice and Formula 1. But since it was only the second venue we looked at we had to prove to ourselves that the location was the one. The next weekends were spent visiting and reviewing other houses and locations: AHS River Farm, Woodend, Stone Mansion, Cabell's Mill, Strathmore Hall, and Brookside Gardens.

We put temporary holds on the top contenders. We carefully weighed our options - discussing each venues' beauty and flaws. But what helped me decide was when I closed my eyes and imagined my wedding in each of the contenders. After that it was clear that Hendry was the location for us. We called Sharon to reserve our date.

One down, 100+ more decisions to make...

Ghost at the Expo

Today we visited the regional "bridal showcase" in Fairfax, VA. We left feeling queasy, due both to our stomachs full of cake samples, and the disturbing distension of our wedding budget.

I entered this planning process confident that we were more than a match for sentimental shills and crass tactics of wedding merchants. The showcase was the first real skirmish. The industry drew first blood when I was turned away at the door. The guy taking tickets informed us that men must enter through another entrance, which was in fact really an exit. When I circled around from the men's entrance, I saw that the purpose of the segregation was to load the women with fliers and to sign them up for volleys of spam without any male interference.

I regret I left the camera at home. One will have to imagine the arena floor and outer passageways of the Patriot Center jammed with brides, mothers and stone-faced men hauling bags full of menus and glossy pamphlets. The harpists banged out Bach, Wild Cherry's one good song blared from the live band on display. I was disappointed in the lack of blingism on display. There was only one ice-sculpture display, and only one motorized chocolate fondue vendor.

I understand completely that in a traditional world that I don't recognize on sight only women are interested in and make decisions on wedding matters. So, I came prepared to be invisible to vendors. Nonetheless I made a large number of photographers, caterers and cake makers talk to me. I assailed photographers with obviously ignorant technical questions about their equipment. I demanded to know if I could get a red velvet cake. I got carried away and asked if I could get an English style, i.e., Trinidadian black cake. The answer was a polite kind of "hell no" -- some nonesense about the bakery's unique unadulterable recipe.

Primarily, we learned a lot about photography. We saw countless massive albums and video slide shows. Gigantic glossy soft focus pictures of brides flanked by the columns of famous plantations throughout the state hung over displays. The chief lesson there was that good photography costs a lot. And, that the worst frequently costs the most. The same goes for invitations; and many other essential elements. Thus, while we did not wrap up any new elements of the plan, we are better trained to go toe to toe with the industry in the coming months.

Traditions

As the planning gets underway, the nuts and bolts of place and logistics will need to be complimented by the personal. Part of this will be putting elements of our respective cultures into effect in our wedding. Of course this is not a kind of unique statement or aim. I think a mirroring match of background or culture would be exceptional among the couples we know. Like a lot of people in our cohort, probably most of the weddings we have been to are combos of various sorts. I think I learned much of what I know about certain cultures and traditions from these experiences, and I hope to pass on the favor to others with our wedding.

This aspect of the wedding will also be a way for us to explore our respective cultures more and find out some new things that, as first-generation Americans, we sometimes took for granted or pushed aside with undue haste. A chief part of this will be developing important parts of Filipino wedding traditions in the ceremony and reception, on which there will be much much more to come.

Two Houses

Last week we saw our second candidate site, Hendry House, in Arlington, VA, where we live. This is a historic mansion in a city park. The house's main level has three cozy rooms with sparking wood floors, flowing neatly into another. Numerous large windows open to covered patios on three sides. We visited on a gray winter day, but could easily imagine the wooded grounds in fall colors for our planned October date.

Wedding site and cozy home are crossed purposes. But this house's close quarters generate a certain understated elegance and bit of spacial intrigue that make a virtue of its limitations. Nonetheless, its a small site. The house only holds 65 people inside seated at tables. A couple dozen more could be put out on the patios. Although we were told this is typical, it would be less than ideal. Squeezing people in and managing traffic could prove a challenge.

Hendry House is set in Fort C.F. Smith Park, historical park preserving a civil war Union army fortification, marking a crucial line of defense against the Confederacy. The house was built in the early 20th century. A restored Union fort in Virginia, where seemingly every other road and Junior High is named for Robert E. Lee and where the stars and bars fly from the strangest places, is an an odd and refreshing phenomenon. Arlington, in modern terms, still marks the the farthest reach of the U.S. counterrevolution.

The first site we visited, Decatur House, had the bones of a proper wedding site. It has a large rectangular room with an entry atrium side by side with a large stone courtyard. Sitting on the verge of Lafayette park, bookend to a row of elegant Federal row houses and a shout from the White House, it has a diffuse air of power and history. As is clear from its second billing in this report, it nonetheless failed to make the necessary impression. The mealy carpet and tourist trampled fittings reduce its air to airs. The courtyard is at the bottom of a canyon of buildings whose grim backsides are not what they might seem from their facades on Lafayette park. The price added a bad aftertaste. This has become a recurring theme with our other site visits, and a note Hendry House continually strikes in dominant contrast.

Wedding planning

This is the inaugural wedding-planning entry, and the first post of this collection. There will be other topics, and a different organization to house them, but I think this is a good place to start.

I must state at the outset that we are planning a snob's wedding. This is not a point of pride in itself, and it means that we have a tough road ahead of us. We proceed chastened by the shame of this bad behavior and its coming punishments. Specifically, this snob's path means that we will often decide to do things differently, sometimes in a way less costly than usual, sometimes far more. But in either case it will require the exertion of making choices where choices could be avoided.

Like more and more of our peers, we are paying for it all. We have no complaints about our means, but each dime we spend will be one we saved ourselves. And so we face a strong case for frugality. But this is consistent with our approach, because we know the binds of economy can liberate. They force care in choices and truth to self. We learned this lesson well during our five years in New York. After coming back to NoVa, its one thing about NYC I vowed not to forget on purpose.

Some choices will be driven by arbitrary requirements, some obvious, some ridiculous. There will be, clearly, no SUV limo. There are obvious alternatives to pulling up in a stretched, frosted quasi military vehicle, but not many fitting my narrow ideals (If anyone has a '65 Aston Martin DB6 or similar to let for an afternoon super cheap please contact me directly.) Also, I refuse to be wed on a plantation or in a country-club. You Virginians may know why this is both objectionable and potentially hard to avoid. Of course there will be other rigid objections. Many will succumb to reality, but their survival here and there will supply gratifying triumphs.

None of this is to say that we forgot where we came from -- we are not seeking to rise above ourselves or others, but to be ourselves. This wedding-plan is about showing who we are, and what we mean to each other. Planning it will be a way of affirming our shared values, our love . . . and fighting it out about the types of chairs for the reception.

As you wedding veterans know, the first order of battle is finding a place. On learning that you are engaged, everyone wants to know if you have set a date. Of course there is no when without a where, unless you are planning to hijack a public park for the event. In the next and the first proper installment we set out to find a place.