The Wedding Industrial Complex, Part I

I’ve been griping about weddings for quite some time now. Call me bitter. Call me cynical. Probably I’m a mix of both intermittently – particularly at weddings. At any rate, this year being one in which I won’t attend a single wedding, it seemed the best timing to theorize about the wedding industrial complex, hopefully without offending any of my friends. For the record, of the twelve weddings I’ve attended in the last four years, I’m fairly certain all the people actually getting married had a great time and were happy, and really that’s what the day is all about. Also for the record, I didn’t really like formals in college or dances in high school either – so maybe this is all just the adult extension of an inherent objection to getting dressed up and dancing. Finally, just to be clear, I don’t have an objection to the institution of marriage. I do believe that it’s both possible and reasonable to spend the bulk of your life with one person. How you find that person, I have no idea. I’m not sure I’m really looking just yet. But that’s another story.

My objection to the wedding industrial complex comes from two distinct places. The first is a more personal aversion. It comes from the place of being a chronically single person who (for what are probably defensive, self-protective reasons) finds herself uncomfortable with the concept of romance. The second is purely fiscal in nature. I was by no means raised in a frugal atmosphere, but I learned to think of money with a sense of responsibility and practicality.

I don’t think I really need to define the wedding-industrial complex, right? It’s everything from the magazines to the romantic comedies, the websites to the dress fittings, the flowers, showers, rings, and registries. It’s spending thousands upon thousands of dollars on one piece of jewelry and one big day.  It’s women being lavished upon and rescued by men.

Part I is about the ring. It all starts with the ring. Until recently I think I was just as convinced as every other girl that I needed or wanted a big diamond ring on my left hand. What changed my mind? Well, first of all there’s the fact that the size of diamond that every girl thinks is necessary seems to be dependent mostly on how important a social status marker it is for them. How big are their friends’ rings? How much can Mr-Ring-Buyer afford? How big are the rings at the grocery store or the boutique around the corner? How big was mom’s ring? How important is money and socioeconomic status to the couple? It doesn’t seem to have a lot to do with anything about the relationship. When I questioned a friend once on the practicality of buying the ring if money was tight, she explained, “Well, it’s really important to us.” Really? More than housing and groceries and having a social life? More than the down payment on a house? When I moved from grad school and Massachusetts to Manhattan and the land of new money, the rings got significantly bigger. It’s ostentatious consumption at it’s best. I haven’t even watched Blood Diamond yet, but you can bet that it’ll only add fuel to my fire. The mere fact that there is a process for certifying diamonds as conflict-free makes the industry suspect. I also love when girls talk about what size ring looks good on their hand. Please. On the other hand, I’m not really one to buck tradition and I do think there’s something important about having some sort of symbol, so what’s my suggested alternative? It seems to me like there ought to be plenty of vintage, ready to be reused gems out there. Since the traditional diamond engagement ring didn’t become a “custom” until the mid 1900s (thanks to brilliant De Beers marketing), there are hundreds of years of precedent to draw inspiration from.

Now, because I like to try to play my own devil’s advocate, I find myself wondering how I would respond if I were ever offered a ring by someone I loved. I can see how it would be hard to say no. I guess the question would be what was the motivation for his buying it? Did he buy it because he wanted to or because he felt like he had to? And would I look at it for years to come wondering what else it could have paid for? What amazing trip or year of tuition? I know there are plenty of women out there who dreamed of their rings and weddings as children and are happy for this one remnant of fairytale in our lives. I’m not saying it’s wrong for them, just that it probably deserves some thoughtful consideration.