I read the above passage from Coco Mellor’s novel, Frankenstein and Cleopatra, and was planning my next trip to a vintage market in search of something similar because it sounded so dreamy. I saw a glass chapel at a hotel in Bali a few months ago and thought, I’d get married just to get married there. While I don’t have any big plans of having a wedding of my own, I am pinning rings on Pinterest just because they’re so so pretty. I have seen more wedding rings in the last six months than I have in my entire almost-three decades of existence on this planet. I say epidemic because it is contagious, or at least it feels that way as the bachelorettes around me drop one and by one and my left ring finger develops a mild twitch. When she slid it over her head, she felt as if she had taken a knife to the surface of the sky, skimmed a little off the bottom, and worn the peel.”Īt 28 years old, I feel like I fell down a rabbit-hole of the deep dark web that is wedding aesthetic but what’s actually happening is a rite of passage a 32-year-old friend of mine told me about roughly four years ago: you wake up, roll over to check your social media and like an overnight epidemic, everyone you know is getting married. “She found the dress she did wear buried at the back of an overpriced vintage store on Perry Street, a liquid silk slip so much cheaper than everything else, she worried afterward that it might actually be a nightgown.
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