rThe problem is that as a bride-to-be, I want it all. I want cute fonts—lots of them—and I want story-telling. I love puns, and I want adorable love birds and recycled paper. I want to put our engagement photos to good use and I want to send something sweet. (And I do mean edible.) I also enjoy glitter.r
Left to my own devices our save-the-dates would incorporate all of those things, and let's face it: there is nothing cute about a homemade caramel apple covered with birds and glitter, a ridiculous amount of typography (carved into the caramel, I imagine) with our engagement photos glued on with icing, all in recyclable paper tied with curly ribbon and a note that says “We so hope you'll come. If I need to, apple you here in a wagon. Afterall, our loved ones are the core of our happiness. Hope to seed you there!”
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There's something even less adorable about the way my kitchen and dining table would look after I've pumped 50 or so of these concoctions out the door.
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Less is more. I know it's the truth, but if I've ever had a hard time adhering to that painfully-accurate little tidbit, it's now, as a ide-to-be.
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See, I had these wonderful intentions of sending out really cute, handcrafted little “Will you be my idesmaid?” cards to each of my closest girlfriends. For those I was prepared to use it all: glitter; construction paper; colors that have nothing to do with our wedding; stamps; and scissors that cut delightfully funky designs. But a funny thing happened when I slid that ring on my finger—patience went completely out the window and the idea of making and sending out these adorable little cards and waiting for people to get them, sounded like as much fun as eating them. (And these did not include caramel or apples.) Somewhere between making announcement phone calls and setting up our wedding website (which, let’s be honest, happened immediately), invitations to the wedding party were less cordially extended than they were blurted out in between high pitched squeals, happy tears, and sips of champagne. Now I can kiss that glitter gun goodbye. I missed my opportunity at creative release, and my energy, craftiness and tools of construction are being channeled into the save the dates, and I must say, it’s not looking good.
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The other day I worked up a couple of simple save-the-dates using one font and an engagement photo. Then, I looked through the other 400+ engagement photos, and started applying the same type to those. (If our photographer wasn’t so amazing the choice might be easier…) Within a couple of hours I had four new save-the-date options, and not one of them involved recycled paper or something to eat. Maybe I pulled back too much, no?
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The common (and sane) advice for this predicament would be to consult a professional. I've thought about that. But what would I tell them? I've been to wedding shows and seen incredibly talented designers' work, and I love every single save-the-date on their table. I would never be able to decide! The problem great thing about save-the-dates is that they can be informal and even a little silly, so the options are truly endless.
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In the past couple of days I have resolved that our invitations will be handled by a professional. In a few months I will pull myself together and offer a designer our wedding colors and the wish for a sweet and simple invitation, and then I will step back.
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But in the meantime, I have got to figure out a way to sweeten up these save-the-dates, and also maybe grow an apple orchard. I’ll keep you posted.
