Not Bridal, But Not a Feminist

Such a dirty word, so charged. I am not afraid of being one, I just am not sure this word has any real relevance or power in the twenty-first century. Kind of like libertine. Any man you know offended by being called a libertine these days? It´s a term on its way to obsolescence. And I´m not sure that´s a good thing. There are definitely too many women out there sabotaging the strides that were made during the course of the last century, from suffragettes to senators. We at Not Bridal are pro-choice. We are also pro-family and pro-progressive family. We are pro-working mom and stay-at-home mom. Personally, we are also pro-nanny. Old nannies with snaggle teeth and warts. But we don´t judge. Well, we judge, but about pettier, less political issues. Like your shoes. They suck. Change them.

This was a long-winded way of starting to say that I like being domestic. As I get older and due to my particular situation, in which, currently, my finace and I have assumed sort of traditional social roles. I like food shopping. I like using the term "the household budget". I like presenting him with dinner, looking sort of proud and sheepish. Please, don´t misunderstand, I am not a¨serve your man, crunchy conservative, promise keeper, betty crocker, back-to-the-kitchen" kind of woman. I would work. Sometimes I like working outside of the home. And I expect, at some point, I will. Because that´s the kind of model we´re creating here. It´s not based on an Eisenhower-era premise, or a DINK 80´s upward mobility thing, but something else. Something Not Bridal. Something technomadic.

Woman´s Work is an idea I was fond of as a teenager. Sewing, knitting, baking, all the things my mother didn´t do, but that I understood as important, useful and creative. I studied, from a cultural anthropology perspective, how woman make community richer through their skillful diligence. In many cultures, hunting, gathering, harvesting, tending the animals, mixing dyes, crafting bowls, the work of provider and artisan, was the jurisdiction of women, young and old. At this imressionable time I was also inspired by Nigella Lawson, foxy and buxom, a lover of food and the hearth. She made cooking lovely things seem fierce and smart. There has been a resurgence of late of knitting with groups like Stitch n Bitch meeting in cafes all over America and hipster chicks clicking their needles on the L train. A softening was necessary. In response to what directly preceeded us. We took our cues from our grandmothers and those before them.

I Would Be Remiss

And an unfaithful blogger if I failed to mention that I have succumbed to the shiny pretty wilds of a bridal magazine once or twice. But I always and swiftly regret it.

Exhibit A: Brides Magazine, whose cover girl in a strapless, pleated dress with a green grasses pattern on the bodice and matching groegrain bow is no question, is a glorious thing to behold. The face, is that of a Noxema scrubbed Vestal Virgin, with teeth whiter than her cultured pearl earrings, the pretty pedantic friend from college, the one who stayed in and read Hegel on a Friday night. Maddening, sort of, but fine. She carries a bouquet of Baby's Breath or something similarly ephemeral.

Inside the book are Ideas For Women Who Have Never Had One Before. An Idea, or... anything. Yes, most women's magazines are just as repetetive, obvious, and aim for the lowest common denominator, but within that genre there are at least options. Vogue, Elle, Jane at one point, succeed in injecting fashion photographs and silly sex tips with wit, etiquette, and intellect. In the least offensive of these pretty periodicals the smart readers infers a nod and wink at some level.

Never with these Wedding Tomes (Exhibit A itself weighs more than the cover model) who take themselves and the entire protracted process so seriously, therefore making the reader a ridiculous thing. It is all too straight, too straighforward, too homogenized and bland. You bore me.

The Knot Dot Com Will Not

take NO for an answer. And I told them I wanted to break up weeks ago. They think that everyone likes them just because they have a website and a magazine and pretty hair and hegemony on all things insipid. I told them to STEP OFF. I gave them back their grandma´s antique ring and all their Duran Duran albums.

Sunrise, Sunset

I was once a little girl. I rode a pink huffy 10-speed and designed outfits for my Fashion Plates; I had a dog that I told stories and tapped around the kitchen in my tutu while my mom cooked dinner. I was typical, well-adjusted and bright. That is I thought so until I learned that Every Little Girl Dreams of Her Big Day!

I dreamed about being a paleontologist; my best friend Stacie Bartlett was going to establish her orthopedic surgical practice next door. After work we would eat colored construction paper and have tea with our Cabbage Patch Kids. I dreamed about digging in the earth and staging plays. I liked Eric Hines, who decidedly did not like me back, even when I gave him the Land O'Lakes cheese from my lunchbox.

My parents were married. I remember watching Diana marry that Ugly Prince on television. It just never occurred to me to don a pillow case on my head and plan a pink-hued day. I figured after I was rescued from the Viny Tower I would have some world events to catch up on and would want to spend some time reading and travelling and washing the sleep out of my eyes. Also, getting to know my new groom, the hero.

I had boyfriends in high school and dated in college. I went to parties and made out and thought about a sustainable future. Then I met Malcolm and there was really no question about our being together. Even when we faltered, when he felt stifled and I wailed, I knew somewhere deep that he would come back and all would be well. Even when we broke up for a terrible and wonderful summer, all that transpired felt like the early chapters of a book I had read so often that in bed I could follow the story with eyes closed.

So when we got engaged after six years together it was...not anticlimactic or expected...I guess it just felt predetermined. This did not stop me from crying like a baby in the lobby of The Algonquin Hotel. I didn´t know I wanted to be engaged until I was and then I did. A lot. It makes sense. But we had talked about travelling the world together and living abroad in a few well-chosen spots on the beach or in a cool city. We wanted to open a bar or maybe a bookstore or make boats or web sites or something. In our bliss we never once fantasized about an intimate ceremony, a big reception, or even an elopement in Vegas.

And I really don't know if I am flawed in some way. Maybe in all this snarky posturing and shouting I'm waiting for an echo of empathy or a condemnation from the conventional girls I sat with during lunch but never was. I do really think that weddings are gross industry, and planning one a useless way to spend my time. I have a lot to do. I have not yet found buried treasure and now I have to do this too?!

Who We Are

A generation of women who passed our adolescence playing video games like Super Mario Brothers and Tetris, riding skateboards, smikong our own pot from our own pipes, listening to Kim Deal shred, wearing thrift store sweaters over slip dresses, kissing a girl or just holding hands. We were daring if not defiant, we hung out with the boys, played guitar, were androgynously promiscious, but never stupidly so (well, it seemed very authoritative and autonomous then).

We are the daughter of mothers who rebelled hard against the patriarchy. they burned their bras and got jobs. Maybe we feel compelled to react against their unconventional behavior.

Cultural Tides shift left and right, and maybe in this administration's America, this is how woman see themselves restoring order and harmony. Not by being a traditional wife; we have all paid to much to Sallie May to let that happen, but perhaps by being a picture perfect bride, a new kind of Virgin.

A idealized combination of the Victorian Angel of the house and the Line Backer female corporate elite who led the 100,000 ugly sneaker march of the 1980's. Wielding power as intelligent consumers, I would argue our liberation is being channeled into a narrow, specialized, wasteful occupation.

Who are we? Young-ish brides of the 21st century. We've created careers for ourselves and own stock as well we shoes. We travelled alone through Europe and South America. We have likely already lived with our husband-to-be and feel fairly comnfortable in a conjugal partnership. Our clocks are ticking but we feel confident science will keep us taut and fertile for many years to come. We are ex-individuals, understanding the wisdom of ritual and security of tradition.

We want it all, as all those Ladies Magazines put forth. I want a marriage and babies eventually. I want to be published and read. I want to teach in a university and dance onstage again. I want to own a home on the beach. I want to give a great party and shout to our friends and the gods that we are united in love for all eternity, or at least until death. After that, a little alone time might be nice.

Who are you?

On Being Engaged

I am not often righteous, but I strongly feel that the period of engagement is a serious time for reflection and bonding. I think it´s a mild crime and an vapid oversight to waste it in Commando-Bride mode. Maybe some couples I´m unaware of become closer through the planning process; perhaps some dudes actually like worrying about how his fiancee´s fat cousin will ruin Her day if she wears the strapless/halter/slutty bridesmaid gown she´s chosen. But if television has taughht me anything - and I might argue that it has taught me everything - then Brides are monsters who forget how to behave like educated, professional, reasonable grown-ups during the months leading up to Their Big Day. Yeah, it´s a Big Deal, and there is A Lot To Do, and it will probably be recorded for posterity by the gin-soaked assholes from MatriMemories Productions, but all the same, it´s just one damn day, and the day after, you´ll be married. Like forever. Alone. With your new husband. And what if you don´t even like him anymore because he doesn´t want to rehash the entire event ad naseum, like your darling, fabulous coordinator, Vic. Oh, wait! I know! This is perfect! Project!!! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes...

The Not Bridal

just started a new blog. I think it´s a cool idea, I just have to figure out how to promote it, or whatever. Actually planning our wedding should probably take precedence. The invitation order is almost finally finished. Anyway, here it is:

notbridal.blogspot.com

Mission Statement

Welcome to Not Bridal, a resource for the unconventional bride.

I am engaged and planning a wedding. I am not quite thirty and living in Mexico. I am as feminine, silly, and vain as the next woman. I love parties and pretty dresses and champagne toasts. But I do not love weddings. At least not the bloated, $50,000 affairs they have become, elaborate events that take a year or longer to plan and potentially alienate a bride from fiance and friends. I want to be married to my partner. I adore him. He is my dearest friend and companion in crime and laughter. I very much want to spend my life related to and enthalled by him. I like the idea of the sacrament of marriage; it is a lovely union of convention and romance. I want to be a wife. I just don´t want to be a bride.