I’ll never forget my sister’s wedding. It was a bright but sweltering July afternoon in Philadelphia and I was stepping into my first role as a maid of honor. Doddering about trying to keep my sister’s train off the ground, I agonized about what the guests would think about my hair. I had recently gotten it cut but wasn’t satisfied with the final result so I took out the scissors and snipped at my bangs myself. Evidently, I snipped too much. I was uneasy, embarrassed and fraught by the thought of having my photo, butchered bangs and all, cemented in our family’s visual heritage. Serious concerns for a fifteen year old, I assure you.
She walked down the aisle in the garden of a country club, straight up to the chupah and proceeded to be married in traditional Jewish fashion. I recall standing under the glaring sun and thinking to myself how absurd it was that in addition to my unfortunate hair incident, I was likely the only one of the bridesmaids sweating quite so profusely. I even had a fleeting fear that when I went to help my sister pin her train, the sweat from my fingers would sully her dress. I knew she’d never forgive me if I fell or ruined her moment in anyway, so I quickly brought my gaze back to the ceremony. Squinting, I watched my sister beam with joy as she became a married woman.
The reception was typically American and featured a band, a videographer, multiple speeches and a gargantuan, iced wedding cake. It was an outstanding party that left me fairly certain that my own wedding would be…. drastically different. And it was.
In France, it isn’t a religious ceremony that makes a union legal but rather a quick (but lovely) ceremony at the town hall in the couple’s local arrondissement. The religious ceremony is purely optional and is typically arranged once the civil ceremony has already taken place. Neither of us particularly religious, Mr. C and I opted for the civil ceremony only and followed with a reception to celebrate with an intimate group of guests. There wasn’t a tiered wedding cake but instead a croquembouche*, a traditional French dessert made of cream puffs. Although it was too sticky and sweet for my taste, it was another element to the event overall that felt right for us.
Since our wedding almost three years ago (!!), I’ve been to a handful of others, including a couple of multicultural unions. My friend’s wedding on Saturday to her French fiancé was the first I’ve attended at the American Church of Paris on the Quai d’Orsay and it was absolutely gorgeous. While the ceremony was American, the reception had a decidedly French vibe, housed in a historical private mansion – La Maison des Polytechniciens, which became associated with Polytechnique, France’s world renowned, elite engineering school, in 1923 as a space to hold events for students. From the architecture and gold plated interior to the patio where we threw back champagne and amuses-bouches, the space took our breaths away (some photos above + HERE).
We will be heading down to Toulouse for a Franco-Irish wedding the first weekend of June and I’m interested to see how it compares to ours and the one from this weekend. I already know it will be nothing like the experience at my sister’s wedding and, with any luck, it will be free of excessive sweating and humiliating hair. But will it have hats? That is the question.
*click to see the croquembouche from my wedding
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Want to plan a wedding in Paris? Get in touch with Kim Petyt (Parisian Events), the American event planner in Paris.
What to wear to a French wedding (think: big hats)
