If you don’t have the perfect theme and ambiance to embody your wedding ceremony and celebration, good fuckin’ luck staying married. That’s why I’ve joined a trend and booked my wedding at a gorgeous plantation. I know the connotation plantations hold, so, like, think of it instead as a grand beautiful estate in the Old South with lots of well-maintained land but we’re not going to question the labor that goes into maintaining that land or up-keeping the estate. I want to capture the beauty of that atmosphere.
I want it to feel rustic and simple and leisurely, like the olden days when white people owned black people, but without any of that bad stuff. On my special day, I ask that you indulge my white upper middle class nostalgia fever dream of an untroublesome America where girls wore sweet cotton dresses, boys wore seersucker suits, and no one questioned the problematic ease at which all these white people were living their lives.
It’s hard to put a lace-gloved finger — evocative of debutante balls and cotillions which were exclusive to the upper echelons of society — on what makes that Old South era so enticing to me. Perhaps the simplicity and ease of that time, before the internet, before saturated consumerism, before the people who were enslaved gained rights, justly sought retribution, and in turn made our guilt impossible to squander, is what I find so appealing? Who knows!
Imagine the beautiful decorations. I want mason jars everywhere. Mason jars for the wine. Mason jars to hold the silverware. Mason jars just to look at. Mason jars to pass notes in about how sweet my wedding is. Who was it who would can fruit back in the olden days? EVERYONE! (But, yes, fancy white people in their leisure and lots of slaves and indentured servants because their literal lives depended on obeying orders.) But the point is that I want this idyllic and nostalgic wedding to be reminiscent of the joy economically influential white people felt in the 1700s and 1800s. The joy of immoral power. Oh, also I want the cake served in mason jars. Yum! Mason jars!
My goodness, wouldn’t it be so precious if the guests were seated on barrels of hay? Details like that are what really tie my vision together. As I walk down the aisle I want everyone to be so focused on how stunning I am and not thinking about how uncomfortable they are on these hay stacks and how gruesome rolling them in the hot sun must’ve been for people working in these fields 200 years ago. The big day is about me!
Truly cannot think of a single thing less perfect than this cotton bouquet wrapped in burlap! Just like how I can’t think of a single thing wrong with holding my wedding on a lovely plot of land that housed enslaved people! My wedding will be perfect. My wedding will be whimsical. My wedding will be problematic.
Most importantly at my wedding I just want everyone to feel happy and included. I don’t want anyone to feel uncomfortable or that I’m being a bridezilla or anything. Yes, this day is about me but I’m not trying to force anyone into doing anything that is triggering or reminds them of anything repulsive, either through my own behavior or a racist nostalgia I’m trying to recapture. But if everyone could forget during my rustic plantation wedding the atrocities that occurred there and instead just focus on how wonderful it must have been to have everything taken care of for you, that’s my one wedding wish!