I have a post up on Lauren McGlynn's blog today as part of her advent fundraising project. If you've been missing my witty banter and exquisite taste (I know you have, don't try to pretend) then you should head over there for my round-up of lovely things that might make nice presents, all by independent Scottish artists and designers.

But enough about me - how are YOU? How's December treating you?

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Three Wise Men Russian Nesting Dolls by Hole In My Pocket, £185

Well, that's it. The last post is up. My reign as UK guest editor of A Practical Wedding is officially over. Sob.

If you've been missing your regular dose of my wit and charm (and really, WHO WOULDN'T?), I'd recommend popping over to read my posts on APW. Even if you're not a regular reader, or a bride, or a woman, or a person who gives a shit about weddings, there's something you'll enjoy. Probably.

Here's what you've been missing:

1. A British Person's Guide to American Weddings. The comments started off well, then rapidly declined into a convoluted discussion about jam. I'm still trying to work out how that happened.
2. Jane and Peter's Misty Rooftop Garden Wedding. Short-haired bride, baby in a kilt, amazing shoes. Need I say more.
3. Hats for wedding guests. Prices range from £29.50 to £1,285. FOR A HAT. If you can spot the expensive one without peeking, you get it for free!*
4. What happens when your friends don't like your partner? I didn't write this one; Anna K did. It makes me feel uncomfortable, and that's a very good thing.
5. Lillian and Leonard: A Love Story. Because there's nothing I enjoy more than making wedding photographers feel intensely awkward.
6. And right now, RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT, it's APW Happy Hour. Which means some highlights, some links I've found around the web, and booze. You should totally come.
7. BONUS: I've been at the helm of the APW Pinterest account for the last couple of days too. Highlights include a wedding bus, an amazing beard and a dogs wearing a flower crown. What's not to love?

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Life has been a little overwhelming lately. My thoughts, and my words, have been elsewhere. I'm trying to find space to write something for you that's not related to poetry or chocolate, and in the meantime you can find me in one of two places:

LOVE MY DRESS

First, the lovely Annabel has been plastering me and my nonsense all over Love My Dress in the last few weeks.

A couple of months ago (alright, it was April, I've been busy) she was kind enough to invite me to a party celebrating the launch of her new(ish) book, Style Me Vintage: Weddings. I basically spent the entire evening in a corner talking to the three people I already knew and drinking rum, but that's my idea of a good time, so I thought it was fabulous. Annabel shared a film of the event here, in which the eagle-eyed among you might spy me, my amazing skirt and my terrible posture. Really should work on that.

Then a couple of weeks ago, Blonde Bridesmaid's wedding was featured in all its glowy, wintery magnificence. Those of you who followed my obsessive pinning sprees might recognise a few of the details. I'm especially proud of the purple cows. (There are actual purple cows, that is not a description of the bridesmaids, JUST TO BE CLEAR.)

And remember this sneaky peek? Well, you can see the whole shebang on Love My Dress right here, along with an extremely waffly description from me of every tiny detail. I'm nothing if not an overthinker. In case you can't tell from the post, I'm ridiculously glad to have been a part of it. Everyone involved put so much effort into making the shoot something really special. Yay Edinburgh.

A PRACTICAL WEDDING

And now, APW UK is happening, and I'm in charge. Which might be why I'm so tired. And have so few words to spare.

For those who don't know, APW is A Practical Wedding, a huge American indie wedding blog. I may have mentioned it once or twice. While everyone stateside is doing whatever it is they do to celebrate Independence Day - fireworks? Aliens? Who the hell knows - I'll be making sweeping generalisations about British people and quietly panicking. The party starts on Thursday at 7.30am.

Send help.


Images: 1. Golden geometric hearts papercuts card by Owly Shadow Puppets 2. Lauren McGlynn Photography 3. Hart & Sol West, taken on the Brooklyn stop of the APW Book Tour

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Today, I had the pleasure of doling out advice to an Alabama couple planning an Edinburgh elopement, for East Side Bride. I've waxed lyrical about my love for ESB before, so I won't bang on about it. Suffice to say, she's ace, I'm honoured, my post kind of ended up being about five million words long.

If you'd like to read my recommendations for a low-key, hipster elopement to Edinburgh (and let's face it, who wouldn't), I'd encourage you to go and read my post right now. And if you know of any other top secret, badass venues hidden away down Edinburgh's back lanes, I'd love to hear about them. The current ratio of country houses to murder-ridden caves in the Scottish wedding media is just not good enough.


P.S. If you're visiting here from ESB for the first time, I should probably plug the wedding stuff. But truthfully, I think you might prefer the posts filed under 'Don't be a dick'.


Image: shot by David Wickham and styled by Bijou Bride for Vogue Italia, via Love My Dress. I like to imagine this is how our Alabama bride will emerge from her plane upon arrival at Turnhouse. Totally feasible.

Then when I got here, I was handed my first payslip in what feels like forever (unpaid sabbaticals are wonderful in theory, until you have to buy Christmas presents). I think I finally understand how that kid felt when he got a note from Maurice Sendak: I loved that payslip so much I nearly ate it.

Then this afternoon, I have a post up on A Practical Wedding, which is always something of an honour. This week they're discussing the joys of navigating the festive season as a married couple, and Meg herself actually asked me to write something for it (I think she just likes Scottish people, or something?). I may have saved her email in my 'Exciting' folder, but I couldn't possibly confirm. You can read my post here, if you're so inclined.

And THEN, on Saturday, Blonde Bridesmaid is getting married! I think I'm more excited about her wedding than I was about my own at this stage. Back then, I was busy juggling families and solving problems and oscillating between "HOLY SHIT I'M GETTING MARRIED!" and "WHAT IF PEOPLE DON'T LIKE MY CENTREPIECES?!" It turns out that bridesmaids don't need to worry about any of that nonsense. All I need to worry about is how I'm going to fit a pair of thermal long johns under my dress without the bride noticing (forecast is sunny and cold cold cold) and making sure the lovely Lillian and Leonard catch my best side.

If that's the worst I need to worry about this week, then I think I'm doing pretty well.

*Frantically grasps every wooden thing within arm's reach*


So tell me, how's your week going?


Image by David Sims for American Vogue, May 2010

Here's how it works:

If you're single, you're a Miss.

If you're married, you're a Mrs.

If you're a big hairy feminist, you may be a Ms, but this is best avoided.

It's time for the really important questions.


Yes, I know. It's pink. Don't judge me.


Okay, fine, if you want me to talk about yesterday, I will say this. All of the posts on Any Other Women were phenomenal, but I especially adored this one (you know how I feel about Maggie O'Farrell) and this one. Loved them BIG TIME. You should read them. And all of you who left comments on my post and sent me tweets that made me all mushy and happy: I love you big time, too. 
Image from Atlantic-Pacific

Fin: "Hmm. You could write about Smidgen?"

Me: "Erm..."

Notice anything in this picture?


See it? No? Allow me to assist:

Er, no, THAT's not me - keep reading, silly!

Yeah! That's me! (I apologise for the desecration of the other couples. Microsoft Paint has a lot to answer for.)

This post originally appeared on Any Other Woman

The husband and I recently spent a weekend staying with my parents. Unlike us, they have an all-singing all-dancing satellite TV package, so at the first opportunity I grabbed the remote and began excitedly flicking through the channels. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the First Universal Law of Television: the more channels you have, the fewer the programmes that are actually worth watching. I had worked my way through the usual channels without success and desperation was setting in as I scrolled further and further downwards, edging dangerously close to the realm of Russian news channels and obscure sporting events, when a programme title caught my eye.

I should have known better. I knew I would regret it, I could tell from the title, but I couldn't stop myself. I clicked 'View'. And suddenly I found myself watching the most horrifying, rage-inducing programme I have ever seen. No, it wasn't Louis Theroux with those vile people, or even Jordan's latest nonsense. It was Bridalplasty.

For those of you who haven't experienced this horrendousness, allow me to explain. Hosted by what I can only assume is a robot, Bridalplasty sees twelve brides compete against each other for the chance to win "The Perfect Wedding". Each week, the women participate in increasingly ridiculous and demeaning challenges with the aim of winning another dream plastic surgery procedure from their "wish list" while so-called "experts" prey on their insecurities. When the "losing" bride is eliminated each week, Robo-Host sends them on their way with the immortal line, "Your wedding will still go on. It just won't be perfect."

Seriously??

If I learned anything from my wedding planning experience, it was this:

1. Your wedding will not be perfect.

2. Your wedding is not a competition.

As a highly competitive perfectionist, I struggled with both of these realisations and, honestly, sometimes I still do. I can't pretend I didn't love it when guests told me ours was the best wedding they'd ever been to (aw, shucks, I bet they say that to all the brides), or spend hours admiring our amazing wedding photos, or get a thrill out of seeing our wedding featured on Rock My Wedding.

But it certainly wasn't "perfect". I had to abandon several projects in the run-up to the wedding (chronological photo collages of our entire relationship? Personal handwritten welcome notes for all 140 guests? Yeah right). I didn't get a facial, or a manicure, or a massage, or a spray tan. I was late to the church. I ripped my dress. There was a one-day-only, never-happened-before-or-since plague of greenflies on the beach, so that I ended up with little flies embedded all over my lace dress and in my veil (nice). I got stressed and started yelling at people to come and be in the formal photos. Our speeches overran by an hour and most people missed us cutting the cake. Instead of a romantic late-night stroll along the beach to our B&B after the wedding, we had a not-so-romantic trek along the pavement with Fin's stepbrother obliviously in tow. Et cetera.

Nor was it "better" than any other wedding. It was ours, and that made it special to us, but there is no Standard Scale of Wedding Perfection. There are no marks out of ten. Wedding planning is not (yet) an Olympic sport. It's so easy to look at weddings on blogs or in magazines and see how intimidatingly beautiful everything is, and become overwhelmed by the fear your wedding will simply not measure up. I will freely admit that I felt that way more than once during the planning. It was really only after the wedding was over that the cloud lifted, and I saw clearly for the first time that it is not the stationery, or the decorations, or the flowers, or the dresses, that make a wedding; it's the people, the love, the FUN, and all the other warm gooey stuff that you can't feel from a computer screen or the page of a magazine.

I want to grab hold of those Bridalplasty brides and tell them they do not need to be "perfect" to be beautiful. I want to show them that having a happy marriage has nothing to do with having a perfect wedding (just look at poor wee Cheryl Cole). I want to beg them to support and encourage their fellow brides, instead of stomping all over those brides' dreams with the heavy jackboots of their own insecurities. I want to shout that the only thing that matters, the only thing worth fighting for, is that at the end of the day you will be married to the one that you love and who loves you.

(Although, as the inimitable Bowie Bride proved, even accidentally missing out the legally-married-bit isn't *that* big a problem.)

So, for those you still navigating the stormy waters of wedding planning, here, for what they're worth, are my thoughts from the other side.

1. Forget about perfection. Our imperfections make us beautiful, and the same applies to our weddings, because ultimately they are nothing more nor less then a reflection of ourselves. Embrace the parts that matter to you and try to let the rest fall away (but don't beat yourself up for caring about the aesthetics and the details, if that's your thing - sometimes pretty things just make ushappy).

2. Try not to fixate on what people will think of your wedding, or compare yourself with other brides, or second-guess your choices. It's not a competition, but even if it were, guess what? You already win! By the end of the day, you will (hopefully) be married and get to spend the rest of your lives together. Eyes on the prize.

3. Pay close attention to this one. This is vital. If you find yourself idly clicking through the channels on a rainy afternoon and you happen to come across (*gag*) Bridalplasty, whatever you do, do not, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, press View. Just keep on clickin'.


Image by Lillian and Leonard

Image by Laura Burlton

APW header designed by Super Runaway

Greeting card, $4.50, HereMyDear

This post was originally published on Any Other Woman as part of "In Her Own Words: In Celebration of International Women's Day 2011", a series created to share and celebrate the experiences of women from many walks of life. All day on 8 March 2011, Any Other Woman and One Cat Per Person featured posts written by a collective of intelligent, passionate and opinionated women bloggers from the United States and the United Kingdom. And, er, me.