WEDDING PICTURE STORIES

What comes to mind when you think about weddings?

Is it the bride resplendent in white, accompanied by eight bridesmaids? Is it the venue, beautifully styled? Or maybe it’s the cost, which can take on the semblance of a mortgage. For me, it’s this: I’m intrigued and drawn to wedding pictures. I like the story they tell, the promise they offer for the journey ahead and the fashion snapshot they offer, travelling through the various decades.

I’m reminded of old wedding photos proudly displayed in my grandparents’ best (and only) living room. The bride is young; there’s one, two at most, bridesmaids and often a flower girl with a little silken horseshoe on her arm ready to give to the bride. Is this still done?

Next to these pictures came the next generation of wedding photos with my cousins in flares, wide ’70s ties, and sideboards. The colours were brighter, dresses shorter, and smiles bigger.

I got married in the ’80s, along with many of my friends. It was simple by today’s standards. My mother made my dress, which was knee-length, my large Māori whānau was in attendance, along with rugby mates and nursing pals.

A kind and elderly Catholic priest who was the Christchurch Hospital Chaplain performed the vows as well as talking to John and me about the sanctity of marriage in the weeks beforehand. I always appreciated him turning a blind eye to the fact we were living together. I remember being overjoyed, and I remain that way.

In the last ten years, close to 50 per cent of the weddings I’ve attended have ended unceremoniously and quickly. The care that deep love promised eroded. It’s hard, it’s beautiful, it’s a journey, and after 38 years of marriage, I’d like to wish anyone on the cusp of getting married all the very best for everything that lies ahead.

Enjoy the moment, the promise, and of course, the photos.