31 March 2010
No, we will not be the first couple in the world to have mismatched silverware at our wedding reception. I take comfort in the fact, though, that even the cool kids are still doing it. Of course, we aren't doing it to be cool. Not exactly. It's more that we thought the effect would be cool. We're probably not saving money--it could have been cheaper to rent--but it's really hard to explain to the folks at the rental company that you think it would be really fun to have lots of forks and spoons that look nothing like each other.
And besides, the whole thing has given us a great excuse to indulge in one of our favorite activities. We spent hours--days, probably--poking through funny little thrift stores in and around my hometown in Ohio. And you know how much we love treasure-hunting.
I think we've finally come up with enough of everything. I'm still feeling a little insecure about spoons, but hey, a bride has to have something to stress about, right?
What I really wanted to do--and it never would have worked--was to have real silver at our wedding. Every once in awhile, when I'm at the Goodwill, I'll see old silver mixed in with all the stainless steel in the silverware bins. And the best part? It's still the same price. It's kind of my dream now to have an entire set of "good" silver that I've pieced together at twenty-nine cents a fork. I'll let you know how that works out.
Of course, we're not registering for silver. I'm not that kind of girl. (In fact, I'm not sure I'm even a "registering" kind of girl, at all. I think that's something I'll have to address another time.)
It's kind of funny, though. Pretty much the only people that seem to think that the 21st Century American couple should register for something so decadent is, um, the people that want to sell it to you. The wedding industry is still all over silver, which I find amusing in a cloying, condescending way.
I'm not saying I don't like the heft and the history of fancy silverware. I love it. When you're paying three hundred dollars a setting, though, instead of--I don't know--say, thirty? It seems like a real cut-and-dry sort of decision.
Oh, unless you're at the Goodwill.
So this is the beginning of my collection. At the rate I'm going, I'll probably be retired before we have enough forks to have company over for Sunday dinner. And of course, the pieces aren't going to match. Which is absolutely fine. There's just something kind of regal about silver. When you hold it, it feels important. Which is probably why people go all ga-ga over expensive flatware in the first place.
And I'm fascinated by the fact that families used to have their silverware monogrammed:
I'll be honest. I kind of have this fantasy now of hosting a fancy, modern wedding where the wedding cake is topped with a fork and spoon, instead of the traditional bride-and-groom caketopper.
Admit it. You can kind of see it, too, can't you?