Size does matter...

You can seriously shrink your flower budget by choosing smaller bouquets. 

In total we spent $264.22 in the floral department of Whole Foods.  The boss there got on board my frugal train from the start.  (This is another key part of sticking with a budget you can live with).  At Whole Foods, the whole floral team got really quite excited by the challenge of the $35 bridal bouquet.

The other key to keeping floral costs in line is to go with what's in season.  I chose a colour scheme (red), but was never 'married' to a specific type of flower.  This gave the florists the freedom to hit the flower auction day of, and make the most of the daily bargains.

In the end I had orchids and gerbs, locally grown anemones and even sustainably grown roses.  The bouquets were hand tied with white fabric ribbon and held together with red-headed pins. The boutonnieres looked like sea creatures (perfect for my husband truly devoted to the sea). 

That $264 bill bought us one bridal bouquet, four bridesmaids' bouquets, two flower girl bouquets, 8 boutonnieres and one wrist corsage.

My flowers were stunning.  I doubt any of my guests would disagree.  I don't think any one of them felt there was anything skimpy about my flora.  In the end, the arrangements were more 'me' than I could have ever come up with myself. And at $35, the price of my bouquet, was less than half the average I was quoted elsewhere, and freed me of any crafting on my big day.

Let them eat cake!

And they did! 

A thin layer of white chocolate buttercream separates a decadent carrot and cream cheese interior from its  fondant wrapping...Pure and unadulterated food porn.

My pastry chef sister and maker of wedding cake tells me fondant is sugar, sugar, and more sugar helped along by a few other key ingredients that turn it into a kind of rolled icing.  This traditional wedding cake gloss holds its form.  It is fabulous for sculpting things like the pretty pink roses and green leaves on our cake.

I'd say our guests loved it.  At the end of the night we asked for the leftovers.  All that remained was the smallest top tier.  In my conspiracy theorist head, I began suspecting the club might be serving my carrot cake for desert the next day. So I spent the next few days making phone calls, confirming cake consumption with my guests.  Turns out some like it so much, they ate it twice!

Still trying to figure out what happened to the roast beast though!

Not a party 'till something breaks?

Does a fractured foot count? My pal S danced so hard, she fractured her foot at our Friday night wedding.  This is her cast.  These are her crutches. 

She calls it 'the price of love'. She's a particularly good sport. She'll never forget our event.

S, if you're reading, my offer to feed, clothe and drive you around still stands. 

Oh, and A (who pulled a muscle in her left thigh also killing it on the dance floor), I can rent you some crutches...

Heal fast my friends...love may hurt, but seriously, not this much!

This wedding is our wedding, this wedding is your wedding. This wedding was made for you and me.

The flowers were perfect, the cake was divine.  The dress fit just right.  The girls at MAC can turn a frog into a princess.  The girls at Blo gave us film star hair from just about every era.  A looked like CoCo Chanel,  C looked like Bo Derek and they did a pretty good Audrey on me.

There is so much to say, and so much to write. From the most subtle details, to the surprises -- like a DVD called 'Smile and Nod: Marriage Advice from the Pros'. 

As we run to be with family and friends once more, I just wanted to say thank you - for reading my posts and for traveling this path with me.

There really is so much more to come - so many great deals to share, and moments to celebrate.

More to come!

Lots to blush about this morning

Last night I experienced the Rolls Royce of bridal showers.  There's even a BFB cocktail now:  vanilla vodka, granny smith apple, lemon, vanilla sugar and thyme.  It was created by Best Woman M's husband's brother -- a bartender and cocktail artist in Germany. 

Perhaps it's a function of getting married at 38.  I am surrounded by sophisticated, accomplished women, who know how to throw a party.  Best Woman C has raised the bar to soaring, new heights.  S is just the hostess with the mostest.

No male stripper, no embarrassing games.  Just the finest nibbles, best whistle wetters, most ingenious and  craftiest touches (flower pots blooming with images of Jeff and me over the course of our lives).

The theme was more 'me' than I could have thunk up.  Most of the gifts are consumable, and personal.  Each guest brought a bottle of great wine, and a favourite family recipe, written on a card, with one or two key ingredients.  The Lucky Spring Roll recipe came with the wonton wrappers and vermicelli.  B's blue cheese burger recipe, came complete with Cashel Irish Blue.  I went home with close to 20 bottles of great wine, and even a thong, thanks to my sassy new mother in law!

There isn't much that takes my breath away.  But a room full of my Women of Influence, leaves me speechless.

Blessed and highly favoured

Two days to go according to the registry countdown. This is the whirl wind.

Three airport pick ups yesterday were followed by dinner with my new in laws.  It is an extraordinary thing to look around the table at ten people who've flown in from across the country, to raise that proverbial glass to you.

Through this whole process, and now at two days before, Jeff and I have been almost overwhelmed by offers of assistance.  From slicing tomatoes and flipping burgers at tomorrow's BBQ, to dropping off the boys for their sturgeon fishing adventure in Langley this morning.  My friend A has even offered to loan me her wedding dress.  I actually may take her up on that. Mine went in for a quick steam at the cleaners last week.  It was supposed to be ready yesterday.  Today I was told, 'tomorrow for sure'.

And then there are the truly unexpected gestures that have literally taken my breath away.  On Saturday night, I was going to visit Best Woman C, to hang out with pals S and L for some last singleton cocktails.  I was in C's Yaletown pad for less than 10 minutes, when someone emerged, unexpectedly from the bathroom.  C arranged to fly Best Woman M in two days early, so we could hang out together.  Here I thought I'd be the one full of surprises, at the airport two days later to greet M.

On Monday night, pal S dropped over two CD's - compilations we'll play when the band takes breaks Friday night.  So generous of her and savvie husband W to take the time, think of wedding appropriate hits, and put it all together.  We never expected the two CD's to come bound in special cases, with my wedding dress detail on the cover!

And today, with one final dose of cosmetic acupuncture to stimulate my epidurmis and make me glow for my walk down the aisle,  I am sent home with a really, really lovely bottle of Grey Monk sparkling brut.

Truly 'blessed and highly favoured', as Uncle M might say.

Please make me look like Audrey...

When I was a kid, I had a mild obsession with Anne Frank.  As an adult, I turned to Audrey Hepburn.  For my wedding I want her updo. 'That', says the sweet little stylist I'm test driving the hair with, 'requires serious back comb'.

The hair as you see it in this photo, is obviously not the final product, but the process about half way through.

In the end, at $150 between the consultation and the actual day, the hair will not be my most frugal moment.  But I've never had a proper updo before, or at least one that made it to the function. I did have all the curls and pins and updone details for high school prom.  What I didn't have was the courage to tell the stylist I hated her creation, so I pulled the do down, pin by pin, the moment I stepped out of the salon.

So I'm going for it again. This time, gratefully, I was very pleasantly surprised at the consultation.  38 bobby pins that partially dug into my scalp kept all hairs backcombed and in place.  I'm pretty sure the final product had its own personality, and could stand on its own for days.  It was so big by the end of the audition, we contemplated hiding snacks in there in case I got hungry. There was some debate as to whether the updo was a bit severe, and should be styled partly up, partly down.  But I've now vetoed that.  My Little Sister Heather (bridesmaid number 4), thought it looked an awful lot like a mullet.

So on Friday, my four bridesmaids, two flower girls and I, have a date with the salon at 2pm.  We can bring a little bottle for sipping, and finger foods to absorb the nerves. 

This is one of those special rituals I think is worth the bucks.  Really it's only the Bridal Hair that's a little pricey.  All others are $55 for updo, $33 for blow out, and $21 for girls under 14. 

This one's on me.

The $6 Guest Book!

You learn a lot of things about yourself in the process of planning your wedding.  I learned pretty quickly, this isn't really the best time to explore my do-it-yourself skills (although I humbly accept my florist's gracious compliment over my attempt at binding my own bouquets). Handmade things are some of this world's most precious, but you have to have time, and basic knack.

In 'Experiment Flower' I did discover the kingdom of craft -- a retail giant for the do-it-yourself crowd.  I think you have to be careful here though.  It can be easy to spend.  Last minute panic almost got me again.  This time it was over the need for some kind of a guest book.  I hear people like to sign in with a greeting.  I figured the craft store may be a good option.  But $39.99 just seemed over the top.  I did pick up some beautiful thank you cards though -- 40 for 16 dollars.

I was beginning to think about heading to the local art supply shop, thinking a traditional sketch pad may just do the trick.  Then I saw the dollar store.  I don't spend a lot of my hard earned bucks on dollar store bits and bobs. 

But I stopped.  Sure enough, they had three options.  A warning though: the spelling was off on the cover of one.  One looked like the white, fuzzy journal belonging to a tween.  And one was just right.

$5.99 for a traditional, plain wedding guest book.  I can totally live with that.

Thrift Store Score, 8 Days Before!

I love the thrift store.  Especially when I score.  It doesn't happen everyday - partly because I don't devote a lot of time to regular rounds, and partly because I don't have huge patience to sift through racks of stuff.

Over the years though, I have acquired some of my favourite pieces from the local thrift, including my favourite winter coat (think Audrey Hepburn, Breakfast at Tiffany's), a vintage velvet couch (which went with Mom to Montreal), a pair of black Prada Mary Jane's, and a old school wool overcoat for Jeff.

My sister is the real thrift store diva.  But she has much more patience than I do, and a more creative sense of style.

If, like me, a quick scan is more your way, I recommend sticking with smaller thrift stores that get a lot of traffic.  They won't overwhelm you with stuff, and turn over is high.  Also, if you score once, it's worth checking back.  People tend to drop off their goodies at the same place, so chances are the owner who gave up her turqoise, Seychelles, dropped off the same ones in black, the following season. (Another two of my favourite finds).

So today, after Jeff's trip to the dentist, we poked next door into one of my favourite Sally Ann's.  He found a practically new pair of black, high top Converse for $17.  (He needed replacements for the pair he gave to a young friend we made in Cuba). I found a pair of beautiful heels, one of my Best Women will wear on the big day. They set me back a whole 8 bucks.

Diamonds and Pearls

Who knew a few rhinestones on a hairband could run you hundreds of dollars?  I was not counting on the financial burden of the hair accessory.

Then, as these things tend to go, I found a hairband I loved, and had to have.  It's not the one in the picture.

I can now easily identify the behaviour that sets in when I'm about to seriously blow a budget.  It has panic written all over it.  The hairband situation was perfect.  Here I was, like a deer caught in headlights, with no idea what these things cost, suddenly realizing I needed one. 

Mom and I found the sparkly rhinestone piece at a proper bridal shop in Vancouver.  It really was spectacular.  And at $175, it was hardly the most expensive.  But I am a simple girl.  When will I ever step out in a rhinestone hairband again?

So we left Sparkles in her display case. 

How much do I love my about to be, mother in law?

I told her about the latest development.  She put two sparkly hairbands in the mail from Ontario for me.  They are my sister in law's.  She wore one for her wedding.  The second was an oopsie.

I got to pick from two. 

I now have 'something borrowed' and something meaningful from my new family to wear next Friday. And I happend to save 175 bucks. 

Those Snappy Red Boots

Two things I can't wait for.  Number one: marrying Jeff.  Number two: cutting a rug to a good old fashioned polka played by one of my favourite bands, alongside 80 of my favourite people.

There is nothing old fashioned about The Red Boot Quartet.  Just cutting edge, gypsy cool.  These four uber talented musicians have Eastern European swing so down, it practically oozes from their pores.  The good sports agreed to throw in a couple of old school polkas, so I could fulfill an old school dream.

As a kid I never dreamt about the big, poofy dress.  But the one wedding thought I've carried with me since childhood, was born at a Ukrainian New Year's party.

Maybe it was the freedom of the 70's, but something about the way everyone moved when the polka played seemed so easy and natural and free.  It was a good time to be a kid, and always great to dance surrounded by family and friends to a catchy, simple beat.

On which page of the frugal bible does it tell you how to afford a live band? Great music is one of those things I can't compromise on.  To me sparky live music provokes interaction, encourages connectivity, and just brings everything to life.

The Red Boot Quartet happens to be surprisingly affordable.  It helps that my talented sister is the fiddler in the band. I hope they bring CD's to sell.  http://redbootquartet.com/



The all purpose Chinatown bag

I'm so happy to see the sun! Maybe, just maybe that Vitamin D will encourage those cherry blossoms in time for our big day, now less than two weeks away!

I'm doing my part to force the change of season which starts with breaking in the straw, beach bag.  All purpose and practically industrial in construction, this simple accessory set me back a whopping $11 at one of my favourite Chinatown haunts. 

Perfect for apples and oranges today, and beach towels definitely soon!

Jacques Cousteau meets Steve Zissou

I'm in love with the re-incarnation of Jacques Cousteau. Or 30% Jacques,  70% Steve Zissou.

Jeff at a tide pool is like a kid in a candy store. 

When he's fishing he's in paradise.  When we went to Cuba, we had to take luggage big enough to accomodate the chunk of PVC pipe he cut at Home Depot, to protect his beloved fishing rod.  We always carry a spare in the trunk of the car, just in case we come upon a watering hole with potential.  He reveres all species of fish and is humbled by the sea.  He is fascinated by the Aquarium and has logged more hours there  in the two years he's lived in Vancouver, than I spent during repeated elementary school field trips.

Today I rediscovered it.  As a belated Valentine's Day gift, we bought each other an annual membership.  A happy frugal surprise:  two adult passes good for one year cost $116 plus tax.  That comes with two adult guest passes good for one visit each.  A great value when one visit costs $21 for a grown up.  An even better deal if you're a family: $138 for two adults and up to three kids -- good for a year.

If you don't want to feel like you're in a daycare, you may want to skip Sunday afternoon visits..I think I'll try 11a-m on a weekday next.

She who goes rogue on hair two weeks before big day...

Please don't hate me Luis. I just can't afford you anymore.

I've been paying close to $90 for a cut with a stylist I absolutely adore for the last few years.  I go once in spring, then again in fall. The thing is, my hair is very fine and chronically fuzzy. I have tried every product and treatment (except the Brazilian blowout, which I just can't justify), and have been searching for the magic pill since I first became hair aware.  I own the pricey, professional hairdryer, and the $68 goop that promises to nourish and tame my obviously starving follicles.

I haven't given up. I've just accepted that not all hair has magazine cover potential.  But I did begin to wonder if a trim of the bangs, and a couple of layers around the back really had to be a $90 adventure.

Once you make the frugal commitment, it's amazing who and what shows up.  Almost like the Universe has your back.

Jeff and I were walking to London Drugs to buy our marriage licence, when, at the corner of Broadway and Heather, we met Laura - a bold, young, entrepreneurial hairdresser, standing on the corner outside her salon, soliciting.

The courage, initiative and spunk of this spry 22 year old impressed me.  Her discount coupon sold me.  She charges $45 for a cut, but with the coupon, I'd pay $35.  She just moved here from the North Shore, she tells us, and is trying to build her clientele.  Once again I figured, I just need my bangs trimmed, and a few layers out back.  What was the risk? Besides, the salon she works out of is high end, and very reputable.

So I returned the next day, at the appointed time, now with a little more doubt about my decision.  Two weeks before my wedding, was it really worth messing with my hair?

So I got the $35 cut, oh, and a $100 colour. Gratefully, I am thrilled with both.

Laura sent me away with three more $10 coupons to pass along to friends.  If my friends use those cards, I'll get another $10 off my next cut. 

I'm one satisfied frugal bride.

BFB Gets Fit

Six months ago I was a closet smoker, sneaking other people's ciggies, unable to let the last few smoking pals in my life, do it alone.

Today I ran seven miles.

What changed?  I'm not exactly sure.

But by mid November, after a two month stint in Ottawa, where I smoked my face off (along with what seemed like everybody else), and on the cusp of a reunion with Jeff, who hates anything to do with cigarettes, I thought, 'it's time'.  Hardly an epiphany. They say it takes something like seven tries before you really stop, I've been trying to quit since I first lit up at 15.

First I knew I would have to remove myself from the last temptation.  Not really that hard.  Most of my girls gave it up a long time ago, but a handful persist, like lone wolves - brave social pariahs.

The last time I stopped for any measurable time, I flirted with running, inspired by my great pals A&B -- B who ran his first half marathon in his late 40's.  I was at the finish line of that UBC Fall Classic in awe. Oddly enough, two other great pals crossed that line too.  I had no idea they were runners.  A secret society of happy, healthy, beautiful people was revealing itself before my very eyes. 

Come January I started trotting the neighbourhood again.  Two minutes on, one minute off.  I was up to about 10 sets, when my friend V, who owns the Vancouver institution Rackets and Runners, suggested I sign up for a race.  She explained that would keep me honest, and training. 

I took the plunge and signed up for the Sun Run.  Now, I know reasonably fit people who run the 10 k course in about an hour and a quarter.  Until very recently remember, I could handle running for two minutes max.  Already into February, the April race seemed rather daunting.

So V suggested I join a running group out of her store.  Barely a week into March, I run three days a week, carried by the spirit of the group.

I've been taught how to do it right, to run on my toes, and bound like a deer, not to bounce, and definitely not to overdo it.  I've circled tracks, and tackled hills.  Last week I even crossed a bridge.

The discipline alone has changed my life.  I need less sleep.  I get fresh air. I've heard I'm a calmer, gentler version of myself.

Running is the ideal sport for this Blushing Frugal Bride.  Aside from investing in a good pair of runners, and connecting with a salt-of-the-earth clinic, I can do it in my grubby old yoga pants, and a polyester toque.

Pricked by an Angel

My pal J says, when it comes to preserving your face, at 35 it's time to pull out the big guns.  After years of the cheapest drug store scrubs, long past J's magic number, and four weeks to my wedding, I just needed to pull out some guns.

So, I'm getting some work done.  I've just had my fourth treatment.

Remember I'm frugal.  I also believe in aging gracefully, au naturel.  I'm not quite ready to walk around with a piece of scotch tape between my eye brows, reminding me not to frown, but I'll never forget the French woman hotel guest I served years ago, who did just that.  She wore tape like a badge of honour, sun up till sun down.

My mom looks amazing for her age.  She swears by olive oil.  My cousin P looks unbelievable for her age.  I just found out she swears by Oil of Olay.

J hooked me up with a cosmetic acupuncturist.  Yesterday I counted 40 needles in my face, hands, knees and feet - a human pin cushion.  The amazing doctor, whose skin is as smooth as a baby's rear, tells me the fine pricks cause micro-trauma in the face, and stimulate the creation of collagen.  The result, is a tighter, brighter complexion.  I'm a total fan.  So now are three girlfriends, and my Mom.

The best part.  Check with your health plan.  Many give you a certain number of acupuncture dollars.

I've been pricked by an angel.

PS.  The pins in this picture are not acupuncture needles! They are household pins from my sewing kit. If like me you are terrified of needles, you should take comfort knowing those used in cosmetic acupuncture are about as fine as horse hair, or as one of my best pals once said on the air, "as fine as a mosquito's prick".

The Recycled Suit

I have always believed every man should have a good suit.  So now Jeff has one.  It is far from his daily dress code.  He works in mining and exploration, and typically gets either really cold, filthy dirty or soaking wet in a day, trudging through the backcountry, often going where no man has gone before.

He was on a job like this, based in Shania Twain's home town of Timmins, Ontario, when we first learned he would need a suit -- not for work, but for an occasion upon his return to Vancouver.

So off he went, to the Timmins Square Mall, all alone. 

From across the country I experienced a minor panic.  There's no Harry Rosen in Timmins, not even The Bay.  The last time Jeff bought a suit was in junior high.

This was totally beyond my control. If he actually found a shop, what would they sell him? Would the car salesman of suits steer him wrong? Would the jacket fit right across the shoulders?  Would they hem the pants too short?  Worst of all, would it look cheap?

Jeff did just fine. He chose basic black, a classic jacket with a crisp white shirt and black tie.  The pants don't have too much fabric, they don't have too little either.

My fiance is neither cheap nor particularly frugal, but he paid half price for the ensemble.  He wore it to that Vancouver event, and then at his best friend's wedding in Yellowknife last summer.  He will wear at our wedding too. 

He quotes the first half of the latest tuxedo rental ad making the rounds and tells me: "on your wedding day all eyes will be on her, but her eyes will be on you".

I think he looks great in his classic black suit from Timmins that now comes with some great memories.  But then I think he'd look great in a burlap sack. 

The piece of paper

Toothpaste, check.
Toilet paper, check.
Marriage Licence, check.

London Drugs really is a one stop shop.  "Next", jokes the witty clerk, "we'll perform the ceremony".

There's no way around the $100 fee to get your marriage licence in BC, so no frugal opportunity here.  But all things considered (what the document represents etc), this cost is a small one.

Our witty exchange with the willing clerk continues.  "How would you like to pay?" she asks. Always eager to collect the airmiles, I offer my credit card.  Who knew you can charge a marriage licence?

"Are you paying for the whole thing?" the clerk throws at me. 

Jeff and I must have looked puzzled.

So she explains: "Some couples split the cost.  He pays $50, she pays $50". 

The things she must see.