“I still haven’t decided what I’m going to wear to my wedding,” I lamented to a friend as we sunbathed in the park.
“Your what?” she replied, placing her hand on my arm in concern.
Understanding what he had said, I replied, “Oh, dear, this is getting a little to my head, isn’t it?”
Because there was no wedding. No engagement, much less a boyfriend. Hell, not even a boyfriend. But there was a 30th birthday party, which she had planned with the grandeur of a wedding.
Last year, when I was 29, more and more of my friends were throwing lavish parties to celebrate their marriage, and I felt a pang of jealousy. I wanted to be celebrated, to enjoy a big party surrounded by my loved ones, even if I wasn’t getting married anytime soon.
So, to celebrate my 30th birthday, I decided to throw a spectacular event, with all the pomp and circumstance reserved for the bride and groom. It would last an entire weekend. There would be speeches, a formal dinner, cocktails, hors d’oeuvres and a huge cake. I would even wear white.
Olivia Petter invited 50 people to her elaborate 30th birthday party. She says: “What’s left for single people? What occasions deserve the same level of celebration as weddings? When will we get a chance to shine?”
This may all sound a bit silly, even crazy (perhaps rightly so, the party’s theme was “The Mad Hatter”), but there was something serious going on. Many of my friends are married, some with children. This means that over the past few years, I’ve spent a fair amount of time (and money) traveling to various celebrations that society tells us we should go all out for, even if we barely know our friend’s future husband.
As soon as the invitation arrives at your door, you’re expected to clear your schedule a year in advance. You put on a smart but respectable outfit. You pay for a hotel room in a city you’ve never heard of. You post pictures of people throwing confetti on Instagram. You buy train tickets. And so on.
I don’t mind any of this, nor am I against marriage. I’ve loved every wedding I’ve attended, no matter how far I’ve had to travel or how much money I’ve had to spend (the most expensive was £1,000 for a three-day event in the south of France). But having been single for the past two years, I’ve started to wonder why we reserve this level of commitment for couples who say ‘I do’.
What is left for singles? What occasions deserve the same degree of celebration? When? us Do we have our chance to shine?
The answer is never. Unless you find someone to marry you. Only then will you be entitled to the same levels of attention and adoration.
It’s all a bit archaic, really, to create a social hierarchy with couples sitting on the top tier, drinking champagne and eating oysters, while single people mill about on the bottom tier, sipping warm white wine.
Montigo Resorts at Charlton House in Somerset was the venue for Olivia’s lavish birthday party
After a rough few months (a combination of health issues, work stress, and romantic malaise), I decided I could use a taste of the luxury life. Hence my extravagant birthday and wedding.
I found the perfect venue, Montigo Resorts at Charlton House in Somerset, which is regularly used for weddings, and hired the hotel’s wedding planner to help me organise the event of my dreams.
The plan was simple: guests would arrive on Friday night for a rehearsal dinner at the hotel restaurant before spending all day Saturday relaxing at the spa and gathering for a second night, when the main party would take place. I would stay in the bridal suite with two of my best friends. With a freestanding tub, private terrace and four-poster bed, it was the quintessential birthday bedroom.
For the invitation, I used a website that creates digital wedding invitations and gave guests six months’ notice. I wanted as many friends as possible to be present, so I invited 50 people.
When I first told my friends that I was planning to celebrate a birthday like a wedding, some of them laughed, thinking I was joking. However, those who knew me best simply smiled.
I was pleased that many people jumped on board immediately, booking hotel rooms and scheduling the weekend in their diaries. After all, I had done the same for many of them over the years.
But it didn’t take long for me to remember my position in the traditional hierarchy.
We rush to attend our friends’ weddings, but any big singles occasion is considered less invitation-worthy (photos posed by models)
Many declined the invitation, some had already committed to the wedding, others because they had small children at home. And some simply never responded. Of all the invitees, only one officially confirmed his attendance using the email address I had provided.
Then, in the weeks leading up to the party, there were those who bailed and made me think about abandoning the plan altogether. In the end, though, I stuck it out. But work, family and other commitments meant that only eight people ended up meeting for Friday night, while 25 did so for Saturday.
I understand that, and people’s reasons were valid, but would there have been instability if this had actually been my wedding?
There was a part of me that started to regret everything in the days leading up to my party. Had I gone too far?
But this feeling faded on Friday night, when I was surrounded by some of my closest friends, laughing over an old photo album my mother had brought over. We finished the night with a ceremonial caterpillar cake (from Marks & Spencer, of course) and I woke up looking forward to the big day.
Getting ready in the bedroom with my friends was a highlight: we indulged in our feminine side, critiquing and complimenting each other’s outfits while blasting Spice Girls music.
I fully committed to my pseudo-bride role, and before the party I had a massage at the hotel spa and a facial by esthetician to the stars, The Skin Sculpter. I also spent hundreds of dollars on five outfits for the entire weekend, including gorgeous lingerie from Bordelle.
The first was a white sequin mini dress from Miscreants, a London-based label famous for its avant-garde designs. Paired with lace bunny ears, white tights, and a red jacket with fluffy cuffs on the sleeves, I felt like a cross between a bride and Bridget Jones at that fancy dress party. But in a good way.
For the second look, I wore a bright pink tulle dress by my favorite designer, Molly Goddard (if I ever get married, that’s the brand I’d wear for the big day). And for my third and final outfit, I wore a sheer scarlet jumpsuit with slits down the front and silver heart-shaped buttons.
As for the party, there was a gorgeous stretch tent with fairy lights, locally made balloons, a flower cake, and even live music during the reception. For dinner, we had a barbecue, presented on silver platters in true wedding style. Custom cocktails were served throughout the evening. And my good friend Emma gave a speech, pontificating on the joys of celebrating singlehood in a society that constantly tells women to do otherwise.
To those who dismiss all this or call me a “smug millennial,” I say it’s time to let go of your absurd traditional values. How much money have you spent honoring couples? Why are you so limited in honoring the people you love? Don’t be so old-fashioned.
It may not have been a wedding, and I spent thousands of dollars in a single weekend, but my 30th birthday was probably the happiest night of my life to date.
Being surrounded by so much love and joy without even having to go on a single date was, frankly, incredibly liberating and rewarding. Every single person should be entitled to a night like that. And who knows, if I’m still single when I turn 40, I might do it again.
(tags to translate)dailymail
