Bride is a Long-Term Process

Until I got engaged, I honestly thought that “bride” was a title I assumed for a single, finite moment: my wedding day. So I was surprised when people started calling me a bride weeks before I even mailed Save the Dates, or learned how to scan the UPC bar codes on Macy’s flatware. (“How’s my little bride?” my mom cooed on my voicemail. “You’re a…bride!” one middle-aged, unmarried woman stammered in awe.)

It’s so strange to be thrust into this new role. I’ve always worked so hard for validation — earning straight A’s, starting a business, hunting and gathering all my accomplishments. Now I’m just handed instant credibility, and all I had to do was accept a diamond ring for it. Wait! Don’t I still need to prove myself?

Maybe there’s a valuable lesson. I may not be a Bridezilla, but I’m definitely a control freak in other ways. Allowing others to gush over me leaves me feeling vulnerable and out of my element, but it’s also something I secretly desire, in that way we all still want our mommies or to harbor secret princess fantasies. There’s a new level of receiving I’m learning, however awkwardly.

RSVPs and a Flaky Pisces

I came home from L.A. and found a huge stack of RSVPs waiting, which Clementine and I eagerly opened. I included a little area on the response card for people write notes to me and Jeffrey. I’ve gotten some really cute ones. I was actually surprised by a couple invitees who RSVP’d “no” and didn’t explain why. Most people who declined noted that they were going to be out of town. One particular friend just wrote “Sorry we can’t be there!” with no explanation. This same friend, a Pisces, also never responded to my little sister’s many calls and emails inviting her to my bridal shower (I even called once). She is a true Pisces — a fish that swims in and out of contact. She’s a blast when we’re together, but then she’ll disappear for months. Nothing’s ever wrong; she’s just caught up in whatever she’s into. After the shower rudeness, I honestly didn’t even expect a reply. So when I got her “no” with its cryptic note, it was a little rattling. Like, glad she’s popped out of her bubble to bother responding, but her response is as cryptic as she is. That’s the thing with some Pisces…just when you start to count on them, they can disappear; and just when you’ve written them off, they show up and support you in an unforgettable way. Maybe I’ll see her at my baby shower in a couple years.

Details, Details!

I woke up at 6:45 this morning, my head swimming with all the obscure details that I could forget in the next (gulp) 5 weeks until the wedding. Champagne! Labels for the favors! An archival pen for the ketubah! Jeffrey’s shoes! RSVPs! I think it’s just that typical, controlling response to the reality getting ever-nearer. I’ve spent the morning updating my Excel guest spreadsheet with who RSVPd, updating my wedding website with information about the after party and hotels for out-of-town guests. It’s not that any of these things are hard to do. There just seem to be a lot of little items to cover in a short time!

Wife-Zillas

My friend invited me for drinks with a group of her co-workers, most of whom were married. One woman in her early 30s was what I call a Wife-zilla: someone who bases her entire identity around being married—and therefore, superior. An early Sex and the City episode called this type the “smug marrieds.” It so fits. She’s the wife who replaces all singular pronouns with “we,” and inserts talk of her husband, kids and wedding china into completely irrelevant conversations. You could be debating Condoleeza Rice’s terror policy, and she’ll be like, “Oh! I got this great stainless steel rice cooker from my Williams Sonoma registry.”

Being such an independent Sagittarius, I get irritated when people assume that my entire life revolves around my wedding and being a bride. As though suddenly I have absolutely nothing else to talk about. Unless it’s old, new, borrowed, or blue, no comprendo, amigo.

After showing me pictures of her children, this particular Wife-zilla nudged me conspiratorially, “So, are you thinking of little ones?”

“In a couple of years,” I replied. “Maybe one.”

“Well you’d better get started, girl!” she hooted. “You’re 34. Time’s running out!”

I swear, if there wasn’t a death penalty…

Maybe I’m being unsympathetic. She could just be in “bridal afterglow.” I can imagine that after being licensed to act like the center of the universe for a year, showered with gifts and money, and stamped with society’s ultimate validation, the rest of life pales in comparison. Sure, you can have kids, but that comes with dirty diapers and elastic waistbands — hardly the same perks. I’m actually relieved that I’m buying a house, because it gives me something to look forward to beyond the wedding—a distraction of equal proportion.

Whenever I fear becoming a Wife-zilla, I remind myself that the way I act as a bride will probably be how I act as a wife. And beyond that, the way I acted when I was single probably paved that road long before. When I asked the Wife-zilla what she loved about being a mom, she answered, “I was an only child, and I was totally spoiled and selfish. Having kids forced me to care about something beyond myself.”

Ah-ha. So as a kid, it was always her way, and now she’s woven that into her version of wife and mother.

I know I’m being hardcore today. We all have our karmic life lessons. But brides and wives, please remember: center of the universe disease can be toxic to your friendships. Rather than force-feed our values to each other, I wish we could simply share our “recipes,” then live and let live.

Engagement: A Lesson in Trusting Your Gut

Engagement epiphany: I’ve never had so many “first times,” so much newness, in such a concentrated time period. It’s struck me that I’m not just planning a wedding; I’m planning the next chapter of my life. I’ve experienced so many foreign things: sharing finances, house hunting, wearing a diamond ring, dealing with 10 vendors at once. It can be so overwhelming!

My officemate Amy remarked that she’s never had to make so many choices in such a short time. I think she pinpointed a major bridal stress source. Early on I found myself gripped with “What if?” scenarios. What if peonies are better than dahlias? What if the Indonesian food is too spicy for the guests? What if the loft space I chose is too hard to decorate? In a fit of panic, I even looked at three new venues a couple months ago. With all the choices, I felt like I was being pummeled with fast balls and I could barely even swing the bat.

Now, with just six weeks to go, I’m amazed at how relaxed I am. After stressing out one time too many, I’ve found a certain grace. It came from realizing that it doesn’t frickin’ matter whether the tablecloths are brown or green (although my event designer Naomi would disagree — which is why she’s in charge of those). There are a million choices, and guess what? Most of them will be more than enough for everyone. As my dad always says, there are many roads that lead to Mecca.

It takes a lot of practice and meltdowns, but I truly do want to be present on my wedding day. If that means letting a couple things go awry so I can savor the time with my friends and family, I’ll take the tradeoff.

House-Hunting Out of the Blue

There was an eclipse last week in my fourth house of home and family, and true to astrology, I found myself craving an entirely new living situation. Eclipses end one life chapter abruptly and drop us into another, with no warning. This was a total eclipse, so it was especially powerful. So two nights after declaring to my florist over dinner that I would never leave the city, I woke up feeling totally overwhelmed by the buildings, the high rent, and the garbage-strewn corners. My fiance, being an earthy Taurus, has been campaigning for the joys of a simpler life outside the city — much to my resistance. I finally decided that those practical Tauruses are usually onto something. I stopped being a Sagittarius know-it-all and took a stroll through Nyack, a cute, artsy little village 45 minutes out of the city on the Hudson River. We found a cute colonial house and a beautiful old Victorian (my favorite).

The Colonial The Victorian

I’ll be damned if my city-girl self didn’t start dreaming about backyards, rocking chair porches, tree-lined drives and mortgage rates. Is this what happens when you marry a sign so different from your own?

A Ketubah that Keeps It Real

I’m having a Jewish wedding ceremony, which is extra cool, because my mom just became a rabbi last year. So she will conduct the ceremony, along with her best friend Liat, a female cantor (singer). In Judaism, the marriage “contract” is called a ketubah — it’s a parchment scroll with the couple’s vows written in calligraphy. I wanted something atypical, so I went to Theketubah.com. Stephanie Caplan, a Scorpio, is an East Village artist whose style is modern and clean, rather than the typical old-world look of most ketubot. My kinda girl! As a Scorpio, she’s extremely attentive to detail — I bought a Mark Rothko-inspired design that she hand-lettered in gold ink.

I’ve never liked the old-school text in Jewish prayerbooks — can’t understand all those “thous” and “thees” — so I was grateful that Stephanie offered her Informal version, that has wording like this:

“We promise to help each other discover and follow our own true path in life, to try to appreciate our differences as a source of richness, and above all to do everything within our power to permit each of us to become the persons we are yet to be.”

Sagittarius is the truth-teller, and we simply can’t say things we don’t mean. For an independent Sag like me, marrying a Taurus who’s so different yet compatible, this is the kind of vow I can actually make.

Indonesian Buffet Dinner

Chicken or fish? Nobody will be asked that at my wedding. Jeffrey is Dutch and Indonesian, so we’re honoring his heritage by serving an Indonesian buffet dinner. The food is spicy, with lots of peanuts and sauces — it’s not your typical Asian food. We’ve asked Bali Nusah, the only Indonesian restaurant in New Y0rk City, to cater. I was a little worried that it might be too different for some guests, but so far, everyone is excited. I remind myself it’s only one of the 60,000 meals we’ll all eat in our lifetimes, so it’s gonna work out fine.

The food looks like this:

Bali Nusah’s owner, Mellyanna, is an Aquarius. I find that many Aquarians work in the restaurant industry. I’m not sure why, but I think this sign is not only creative and inventive, but they also really like to make people happy. I love Aquarians because they seem so “normal” on the outside. But their minds are always dreaming up something quirky, and they are razor-sharp. They may be Air signs, but they’re not airheads.

Last night, Mellyanna met with my planner and the florists. While I ate beef satay and gado-gado, they looked at menus and floor plans with the intensity of four-star generals. I continue to marvel that I actually thought I could pull off something of this scale by myself. I’m so relieved to have the team that I do — I’m starting to feel like I can just show up like a guest of honor and truly savor the day. After watching a Bridezilla marathon last week, I definitely don’t want to end up like a domineering basket case trying to manage everyone and enjoy the day. Brides, if you’re getting overwhelmed and insane, get help!

Bra Fitting with a Pisces

My first dress alteration is in a week, and I have to bring along my actual shoes & undergarments. I’ve got the shoes, but not the lingerie! Admittedly, I’ve put this shopping trip off. My bras suck. I’ve never done a proper fitting, and I’ve always envied the wee-cupped likes of Kate Hudson. If it were up to me, I’d trade her my 36C’s and live in Bohemian, bra-less bliss.

My planner Danielle took me to Linda’s Bra Salon on the Upper East Side to help my semi-dormant femininity blossom. Being a sexy Scorpio, Danielle knows the world of panties far better than I do. I was a little nervous, thinking Linda’s Bra Salon might be a chi-chi boutique, so I wore a cute silk shirt — disguising my ill-fitting strapless cheapie. I knew Linda would disapprove.

To my relief, Linda’s adorable, pink-and-chocolate shop had a warm, feminine atmosphere. Linda Becker, the store’s owner and namesake, kindly saw me without an appointment. She directed me to a curtained area, swiftly measured my bustline, and told me in no uncertain terms that my bra needed a serious upgrade. Yep.

In spite of her no-nonsense skivvy savvy, Linda was also warm and nurturing. I wasn’t surprised to when she told me she’s a Pisces. True to her sign, she’s feminine, intuitive, and a bit magical. Her Leo rising (in Pisces form, she knew her chart), lends her a bold, funny edge. Indeed, she looks exactly like the cartoon depiction on her website:

“Your ribcage is high,” Linda peered over her funky green glasses. “You know that.”

Actually, I didn’t, so I asked her to expound. “Strapless bras might be uncomfortable on you,” Linda explained. And when she arranged my assets into a strapless number that felt like a second skin, I was sold. She flew in and out of the dressing room with handfuls of bras (often leaving the curtain askew–but in a way that actually made me feel at home, rather than embarrassed). She cinched me in to one sexy bra after another, rejecting the ones that weren’t perfect, celebrating those that were. As we chattered about astrology, relationhips and weddings, she occasionally punctuated her thoughts with a pat to my boob — in the same “just-between-us-girls” way another person might tap you on the forearm. Again, it just seemed natural.

Linda isn’t just a master , she’s a teacher, too. She left me alone with my strapless bra, commanding, “Get yourself organized into this and show me your work.” I did my best, then Linda added an extra hoist and shuffle to finish it off. Voila — I have a new Chantelle Senso Strapless bra, complete with silicone reinforcements, and removable straps that can be worn four different ways:

I left with six beautiful new bras–with panties to match–and the bill came to $450. I expected it to be twice that at least. Yay! When Linda tapped her forehead and declared, “Sexy is here. In the mind. That’s where it starts–no matter how pretty your panties are,” I knew Linda she was my new “bosom buddy” for life.

Wedding Jewelry

They say everything you need is available from your inner circle, and I think it’s true. My friends Misha and Vika have a great jewelry company, Vika B. Studio, and they are loaning me some of their baubles for the big day. I’m going to the studio for dinner and to play among the jewels, which I’m totally excited about. I’m already in love with these dangly earrings from her collection called The Source:

I’m sure the perfect pair will reveal itself when I have a few bites of Misha’s cooking. Vika’s style is cool because it’s not princess-like. It’s got a modern, artistic and handmade look that I really dig. Vika is a Gemini, which explains why she works with her hands so well, and creates this funky, non-traditional style of jewelry.