My first wedding magazine

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Oh boy, it begins. I have my first wedding magazine. It was gifted to me by a friend who is getting married in 10 days and has no further need for its whimsical dresses and bespoke chopping boards.

I’ve only flipped through it at this stage, I’m planning on saving it for my upcoming long-haul flight as a bit of mental fairy floss once I’m sick of movies. Even the most perfunctory flipping reveals a few things. Lots of white girls with long hair in perfectly tousled waves. Forests. Forests are hot right now, or at least they were in February. There are lots of pictures of impossibly beautiful couples holding hands in the woods as though it’s the most natural thing in the world to hike in a white gown and suit. I wonder how their guests find these places, do they provide GPS coordinates? Or a map and compass? And what about toilets? Do they hitch a donkey up to a Portaloo and drag it into the bush or do they provide their guests with shovels to dispose of their waste more naturally? That adds a whole other dimension to the whole bridesmaids-helping-the-bride-pee thing. “Dig me a latrine, maids!”

Pinterest has been a great source of mirth for Partner 2 and I: particularly with its suggestions of “21 things you ABSOLUTELY MUST HAVE AT YOUR WEDDING!!!!”. Those things invariably include Grandmas as flower girls and writing your menu on a mirror.

There just seems to be a lot of things that, all of a sudden, you desperately need to have. Monogrammed napkins for example. Seating plans, shirts that say “Wifey”, wedding diets,  cutesy poems explaining to guests that you don’t give a shit where they sit (hey, I haven’t seen that on a chalkboard sign before!), garters, favours, a theme! The theme of the event is wedding. Wedding. It’s a wedding. That seems like a very unnecessary thing to have to specify: please come to my event, the theme is birthday.

In normal, everyday life, these things are ridiculous, indulgent non-essentials. The domain of rich people with too much time on their hands. But suddenly when you’re getting married, they are somehow supposed to be your entire world. It honestly makes my mind boggle and my eyes roll involuntarily. I may yet give myself a migraine from overly aggressive eye-rolling.

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As a disclaimer, all power to the people who want these things in their weddings. As sarcastic and snarky as my tone is, I truly do not mean any disrespect. This is a big time ‘good for she, not for me’ situation. All I want from our wedding is it to look like us. I can appreciate the beauty and romance of all the stuff: the photos in the magazine are gorgeous. But staring lovingly into Partner 2’s face while we frolic in a pine forest while dressed in clothes that cost more than two month’s rent (Singapore rent!) just isn’t us. We do name-calling and street food and wrestling on beaches and poo jokes (I now know what a waffle stomp is, thanks babe) and chasing our cat and tuk-tuks, not flower crowns or “curated food stations” or choreography. At the end of the day, and I am aware of how clichéd and cheesy and sanctimonious, the important thing for me is to end up married to Partner 2. Plus we have a trip to Vegas coming up so there’s always that…

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I want to be a fashion blogger

I’m just going to come right out and say it: fashion bloggers earn an obscene amount of money. There’s been a few articles, such as this one, the one that tipped me over the edge http://www.fastcodesign.com/3032096/how-top-style-bloggers-are-earning-1-million-a-year , kicking around about how fashion bloggers (floggers?) are joining the “top 1%”.

I call bullshit. I also want in.

So here’s my “fashion” post.

As seen in the hotel rooms of Singapore…

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I love the crispness of this look and the way it’s just so organic in its construction. There are some really interesting lines created by the ill-fit of the top and the irony of those sunglasses just completes the ensemble.

The model wears a shirt with a tiger on it, really old shorts that the washing machine bled all over and have just about worn through on the left bum cheek, and sunglasses from Dollar Corner in Brisbane.

You can make the cheques out to: “The Frugal Fashionista”, actually no, that word gives me mouth ulcers. Just Bridget is fine.

Seriously though. Bloggers who earn that kind of money should be social change advocates, environmental activists or the people who make cat gifs. Don’t give people who make their living wearing expensive clothes more money to buy expensive clothes! I know this is taking a naïve view about what should be making money on the internet (ahem…) but when there are independent journalism projects like the now-defunct Global Mail and worthy not-for-profit causes trying to be more than a line in a list of search results, it’s hard to subscribe to the idea that fashion bloggers are earning their dough. I’m sure it takes a lot of billable hours to change your iPhone camera filter and achieve that perfect “What? Your taking a photo? I had no idea!” face. But come on, people. Millions of dollars? That’s a lot of pairs of dollar-store sunnies.