
When it comes to the expectations placed on a wife, patriarchy has done us all a terrible disservice by creating yet another unattainable standard for women to try to live up to. I know…shocking, isn’t it? This one tends to go by the cliché of the “perfect bride.” The perfect bride will be the most beautiful she has ever seen on her wedding day. She will be an effortless host to her friends and family: gliding like a silken swan; laugh in the right places; shiny if any; accommodating to each person present, as if they themselves were his personal guest of honour. And… she’ll handle it all on one of the potentially most emotionally, mentally and physically draining days of her life, without it feeling like work at all. The perfect bride, quite simply, will not be human. Or, in other words, it does not exist. Ask yourself…do your friends, family, and loved ones most love about you that you are perfect? No. This is not the case. And even if you were perfect (which you’re not, none of us are), let’s be honest… that would probably be the thing your friends and family love you despite, not because of it. Who wants a perfect friend? Who can identify or connect or be vulnerable around perfection? So why bother on your wedding day?


I say this because, even though it was magical, memorable, joyful, uplifting, happy, fantastic, wonderful, special, hilarious, moving, spectacular and amazing…my whole wedding day was not perfect from start to finish. And I believe I would be doing the readers of this magazine – and the ethos of being a Rock n Roll Bride – a disservice to pretend otherwise. Hit one in pursuit of perfection (and I’m not firing any jabs here, reader): I had such bad diarrhea all morning on my wedding day that we started talking about the downstairs toilet floor as of “the scene of the crime”. I don’t know if it was the gluten the night before or if I just had a nervous stomach, but it was like the scene from Bridesmaids and it wasn’t right. Second hit: During the drive to the site, I had my first ever panic attack and had to get out of the car.


I should add here that I was already legally married at this point. We got down to town hall the day before, with fourteen people present, and I hadn’t had a single moment of nervousness that day. My feet weren’t cold, my thoughts weren’t secondary, I wasn’t nervous about getting married. I was physically and emotionally overwhelmed by the enormity of the big day, as I felt that I fell short of what everyone would have expected of me – a confident, socially capable and comfortable person – on the day of my wedding. Basically, I felt like I was failing to be the “perfect bride”. Once I got there, I told my bridesmaid that I didn’t think I could get in until I saw my husband (something she, as someone familiar with anxiety attacks, told me later said she wasn’t going to let it happen in a million years, I just needed to be distracted). Throughout the ceremony, from time to time, I felt a tugging sensation in my stomach and worried that I was about to return to “the scene of the crime”. And, so aware of the eyes on me, to calm myself down, I even found myself thinking, “You’re on stage, Rachel. It’s like every show you’ve ever done. Just play the role of a confident woman.


Of course, in the midst of that, there was so much that I enjoyed at our beautiful, magical, personal, music-filled humanist ceremony. And I must say it’s hard to write this column – knowing that it will be published with the great photos of our happy day – and not feel guilty or ashamed that we have anything imperfect to say (such is the patriarchal conditioning I received to perpetuate the myth of the “perfect bride”). But that’s the whole point of this…it’s the feminist act here…I could just tell you all the good bits – the speeches, the decor, the sticky caramel pudding (!) – but in doing so, I would be complicit in the very myth that I am trying to dispel. Our wedding was amazing. I absolutely loved it. this. My husband, all our guests and I had a great time. Not that it was ever a competition, but so many people said it was the best wedding they had ever attended because it was so personal, so filled with love, friendship and joy. But it wasn’t perfect. This is the point I want to make, so that any brides-to-be reading this can avoid feeling what I felt on my wedding morning; like they’re wrong because they’re human enough to have unpredictable emotions (or bowel movements!)



Strike three in pursuit of perfection (yes, that actually happened): At the end of the ceremony, walking down the aisle, I tripped on the aisle carpet, stepped on my dress and I fell. The accompanying blast was straight out of a wedding movie. My husband’s lunge to catch me just before I hit the ground was a caricature. Alas. Splat. Strrrrike three, Mrs. Darwin, you’re out of there! No perfection for you. However! Just as my husband helped me back up and everyone cheered and laughed, my brother and one of my brides – who hadn’t seen what had happened – fired the cannons at confetti behind us. The timing was so funny you couldn’t have written it. You might even say…the timing was perfect. The resulting photo is full of life, humor, energy, joy and love in a way that wouldn’t have been possible if I hadn’t dropped seconds before she be taken. “Life”, as my best man kindly added in his speech, “isn’t about falling; it’s about getting back up”. And I know that might be a cliché, but it’s “It’s absolutely true. Life is in imperfections, mistakes, and flaws. We all need to celebrate them.”


The truth is, I haven’t let anyone down. I was not below (pun intended) anyone’s expectations of me. Much like the myth of the perfect bride, nothing that freaked me out actually existed. Once I got up and recovered from the laughter, I was able to relax and really enjoy it all. Because now that I fell on my face – in front of everyone I know and love in my wedding dress – I couldn’t try to be perfect anymore. I had no hope! The pressure was off! I could just be me. In my speech, I said to my husband, “I don’t need our life together to be perfect. I just want to continue to make the best of things with you, for the rest of our lives. Because when you do that, it always turns out for the best. And who wants perfection, when you can have the best?


Don’t waste your gorgeous energy trying to be the perfect bride. She does not exist. She’s yet another lie the patriarchy has told us to make us feel like we’re not good enough. On such an overwhelming, intense, and high-stakes emotional day, don’t set yourself up for a downfall by telling yourself you have to be perfect. Do your best. Be yourself. Once I remembered that, I had the best time. Not perfect. The best. ABOUT RACHEL Rachel is a writer, singer and voice teacher. She has been performing in vintage and swing alliances since 2015. Rachel lives in South West London, where she is currently writing her first novel. You can find Rachel on Instagram via her new spanking handle @rachelbdarwin. This article originally appeared in issue 42 of Rock n Roll Bride magazine. You can buy the latest copy here, or why not subscribe so you never miss an issue?
SUPPLIERS
- Photography: Kate Gray Photography
- Officiant: Dawn the Celebrant
- Venue: Larmer Tree, Dorset
- Bride’s Dress: Kayta Katya London
- Groom’s Suit: King and Allen
- Hair: Andrea Luella Hair
- Make-Up: Katy Pheiffer
- Flowers: Clair Tythgoe