I never really had big visions of my wedding as a little girl (or a not so little girl for that matter). So when it came time to actually having to think about it and quickly move into decision mode (due to my amazing success at procrastination), I had a lot of catching up to do.
I am also not what I would call a traditional bride, so holding a large wedding in my hometown or anything like that is not me and was not going to happen. I do not expect anyone to understand that, just to trust that there are certain things in life that are important to me and this is not one of them.
My rapidly changing visions had me walking down the aisle somewhere a little more my style.
Put it this way, when I was in Italy, I had picked out venues in Rome, Tuscany and along the coast. I spent my mornings drinking coffee and dreaming of my grand, and yet intimate, Italian wedding. It would be very me, a little modern, a little traditional, very italian (ok, so I'm not actually italian), a little regal and a lot small. If I had one inkling of a vision when I was younger, it would have to be this. I even picked out my italian designer dress (which truth be told looks nothing like what I eventually picked, but I was SO in love with it at the time).
And then I went to Paris. Where I spent my afternoons drinking tea with lots of milk and cute little brown sugar cubes, dreaming of a romantic Parisian wedding, filled with lace and gold and lots of pink. My little French Fairy Tale.
And then, well, I came home and reality sort of sunk in. Visions of sugar plum fairies dancing in my head were replaced with the stark reality that I had only a couple of months to plan this little fairy tale of mine, and realistically, running away to Europe probably wasn't in the cards. Sigh. Sigh again. It was a sad time.
I threw myself wholeheartedly into internet research. We had a permanent date for quite some time. Over the course of several weeks, we traveled to California, Maine, Nantucket, South Carolina, Arizona finally ending up with a swing through the North Carolina coast. I could do that. Water is good. Close to home, but not too close. Done. For about a week we were getting married at the coast. Beach houses were scrutinized, finalists prepared for site visits. I envisioned our families bonding on the sand under large umbrellas, taking naps in the afternoon and grilling fun beach food in the evenings. I even considered (briefly) going barefoot.
Another reality check when I really started thinking about everyone staying together under one roof for a week. Good in theory. Not so sure it would be great in practice, especially given my stress level during situations like that. Back to the drawing board.
That's when it hit me. Fall Wedding. Why not the mountains? Asheville? The Biltmore? Where John and I had our very first weekend getaway. Perfect.
From this point on, it was actually quite easy. We were visiting the Biltmore the following weekend, touring the various sites. We saw the Butterfly Garden and Conservatory and looked at each other and knew we were done. It was like the vision I never quite had.
(Here's a few teasers...)
And that is "How I Decided Where to Get Married". It took me awhile, but I think we ended up at the right spot, for us. And now... the real fun begins...
I would love to hear your stories! How did you pick your wedding location? Was it like love at first site or something a little more practical?