Photographers do it in the dark

And graduate students do it where it's free.

Grad students. We're certainly a strange bunch. We tend to resist the norm, reject convention, and do things "on our own terms" within our (very meager) budgets. That's not, of course, to say that our weddings are all devoid of sentimentality or fanfare. We like details just as much as the next guy, but we're more particular (and perhaps intellectually elitist) about the ones we choose to emphasise on our big day.

Fair enough. We weren't all made perfect.

One thing we (female) like to do is to wear things that, while still very appropriate for civil ceremonies (because we are all heathens who don't believe in God and hate the idea of established religion, anyway, so would NEVER get married in Church), toy with expectation. Because our men tend to be ineffectual pushovers with mommy complexes, we like to keep them in standard (but always comfortable - let's face it: getting them out of shorts was already miraculous enough) attire:


We like to favour details that are in line with our academic interests. For the Art Historians among us, this means getting married in what was once ostensibly an old chapel covered floor to ceiling in affreschi, and choosing truly fantastical headpieces, genuine vintage jewelry, and intricate - but not overly so - dresses and purses nothing if not a perfect match with our delightfully playful footwear (not to mention our man's tie):



























Aren't we just cute as buttons?

Our friends are, too. We in the humanities are an aesthetic bunch, so it's only natural that our guests would show up to our counter-culture nuptials in style:

And that they would stick around afterward for a very tasteful, even if small and modest, reception:

But when our parents leave is when the real fun begins. Our mothers, they tried to tell us that changing into your playclothes and having a party in a park is something that you do for your tenth birthday, and NOT for what many consider to be the most important day of your life (after your dissertation defense). They tried to tell us that a wedding was neither a sagra nor a picnic.



They offered to pay for a proper wedding cake.


















They tried, but we wouldn't listen.


Of course, we didn't want to go against their wishes ... we are too riddled by inferiority complexes and Variants of Guilt. Instead, we just hired this guy to usher them out before the real festivities began.


Bring on the vino ... we've just pledged our eternal commitment to each other in a wildly liberal, completely secular, and therefore undeniably off-beat way. It's time to celebrate!