Things I Wish Someone Told Me Before I Started Planning My Wedding

The first time I cried over wedding planning, it wasn't about the dress or the venue or my future mother-in-law. It was about napkins. Specifically, sage green linen napkins that cost $4 each to rent, and I needed 140 of them, and I sat on my kitchen floor at 11pm doing the math and realized I was about to spend $560 on napkins that people would wipe barbecue sauce on for four hours.

That was the moment I understood what wedding planning actually is. It's not romantic. It's not Pinterest. It's a series of tiny financial decisions that compound into something huge, while everyone around you has opinions about what you "have to" do.

Three years and one wedding later (mine — May 2023, backyard ceremony, 118 guests, zero napkin regrets because I switched to paper), here's what I wish someone had grabbed me by the shoulders and told me before I started.

Your Budget Will Lie to You — Plan for It

Every couple I know underestimated their wedding budget by 20-40%. Including me. We "budgeted" $22,000 and spent just over $31,000. And we weren't being reckless — we just didn't know what we didn't know.

The trick isn't to budget more upfront. It's to build in a buffer category called "things I haven't thought of yet" and put 15% of your total in there. Because you will forget about things. Tip jars. Marriage license. The day-of emergency kit. Postage for save-the-dates (postage alone cost us $190).

Here's roughly what we spent vs. what the internet told me to expect:

That last row is the one. The misc row eats people alive.

The "Have-To" List Is Mostly Made Up

When I started planning, I had a mental list of things you "have to" have at a wedding. Programs. Favors. A garter toss. A cocktail hour with passed hors d'oeuvres. A "first look." A unity candle.

I asked one bridal store clerk why I needed something specific, and she said, "Because that's what brides do." Which is genuinely the worst reason to do anything.

So here's my unsolicited list of wedding things I think are overrated:

• Wedding favors. Half get left on tables. The other half end up in a junk drawer.
• Programs. Nobody reads them. They take 20 seconds to make and 4 hours of your life.
• Bouquet and garter tosses. Half the room cringes. The other half is in the bathroom.
• A formal exit with sparklers. Beautiful in photos. Stressful in reality. Half your guests have already left.
• Engagement parties. Just go to dinner with your friends. Save the budget.

And here's what I wish I'd spent more on:

• Good food and enough of it
• Comfortable seating (looking at you, Chiavari chairs from hell)
• A photographer with a great eye
• A coordinator for day-of (more on this)

Hire a Day-Of Coordinator Even If You Think You Don't Need One

This is the one I want to put on a billboard. I almost skipped this because I'm organized, I had spreadsheets, my mom is type-A, my best friend is type-A — between us, we could run NATO.

I hired one anyway, for $850, three weeks before the wedding. Best money I spent on the entire event.

Because here's what I didn't realize: even if you're organized, on the day-of you still want to be the bride, not the project manager. When the caterer showed up to the wrong entrance, when the flower delivery was 40 minutes late, when my uncle got lost — I didn't hear about any of it until two weeks later. My coordinator handled it. I was getting my hair done, drinking champagne, having the best day of my life.

If you cut anything from your budget, don't cut this.

The Guest List Is the Real Boss of Your Budget

Every single decision flows from your guest count. Venue size. Catering. Rentals. Invitations. Stationery. Centerpieces. Cake. Welcome bags. Transportation.

Adding 20 people to your guest list doesn't add 20 plates of chicken. It might force you into a bigger venue, more rentals, more invitations, more centerpieces. We're talking $3,000-$5,000 minimum.

So when your future father-in-law says "Oh and we have to invite the Hendersons" — you are allowed to say no. You are allowed to have a "B-list." You are allowed to do a small wedding even if your mom wanted 300 people.

My rule: if I hadn't seen them in two years, they didn't make the list. It sounds harsh, but the people who should be there will be there. The Hendersons will be fine.

Photos Are the Only Thing You Keep — Plan Accordingly

A wedding is technically eight hours long. The flowers wilt. The cake gets eaten. The dress goes in a box. What's left? Photos and video. That's it.

This is why I'm such a broken record about hiring a good photographer. Not the cheapest one. Not your cousin's friend who "does photography on the side." Someone whose portfolio makes you feel something.

But here's the other thing nobody told me: your photographer will get the big, posed, beautiful moments. They will miss almost everything else.

They won't get your dad's face when he saw you for the first time at the rehearsal dinner. They won't get the chaos in the bridal suite when someone spills coffee on a bridesmaid dress. They won't get your nephew dancing alone in the corner with a dinner roll in each hand (true story).

That's why I set up a QR code on every table linking to a shared gallery where guests could upload their phone photos and videos. I used