Crushed beneath the oppressive weight of chiavari chairs and towering centrepieces. They have watched with silent anguish as identically attired bridesmaids marched the aisle in stretch satin gowns; they have gyrated to reception soundtracks better suited for biker bars, strip clubs or high school proms; they have documented their momentous day with awkward photos and amateur videos shot by guys i
n mock turtlenecks. But the people have endured enough beneath our feet, the tide has shifted. Brides and grooms realise that their wedding day can manifest their individuality: that they can stand beneath the chuppah in sneakers, that they can eschew a first dance in favour of a first pie fight; that they can get married as the truest version of themselves, not as clones of all who came before. Event professionals - stylists, dj's, photographers - have thrown off the cloak of shame that has long shrouded their industry. They have embraced their roles as facilitators of sneaker wearing and pie-fighting, as translators of true-self wedded bliss. And the rest of the world no longer must turn a check to the endless rows of chiavaris and long stem roses. Designers, trendspotters, and editors now look to this world they once scorned and see a glimmering trove of creative riches ripe for the plundering. So let it be known, shout it from the altars, the dance floors, the receiving lines.
