After 10 years working in bridal, I thought I had a fairly clear idea of what planning a wedding would involve. But experiencing it for myself taught me that knowing the industry and actually being the bride are two very different things.
Working in bridal, you spend a lot of time talking about weddings. You understand the designers, the dresses, the suppliers and the decisions that go into bringing a day together. You see the beautiful finished photographs and hear the stories afterwards. You learn what tends to work, what couples need to think about and which details can make a difference.
So, when it came to planning my own wedding, I assumed that experience would give me a head start.
In some ways, it did. I knew what mattered to me, I understood the process behind many of the decisions, and I had a good idea of the people I wanted involved. But there were other things I couldn't have fully understood until I was experiencing them myself.
The pressure. The admin. How quickly the costs add up. And the strange feeling of trying to organise a day that means so much to you while also making hundreds of decisions about it.
Most importantly, I learnt that the moments you remember most aren't always the ones you spend the longest planning.
Knowing about weddings is different from planning your own
One of the biggest surprises was just how much there is to think about beyond the parts of a wedding that everyone sees.
There is the practical side of getting legally married, the paperwork, the timings, the appointments and all the little things that need to happen before you can get to the day itself. Even when you understand the industry, the admin can feel like a lot when it's your own life you're organising.
Then there is the financial side.
You can have a clear idea of your priorities and a budget in mind, but costs accumulate quickly. One decision leads to another, and the smaller additions can become significant when you look at everything together. It isn't necessarily one enormous expense that catches you out; it's the number of individual decisions that all need to be made.
I think we often talk about wedding budgets in terms of the big-ticket items, but the reality is that you're managing an entire collection of choices at once. Each one might make perfect sense on its own, but together they require you to keep stepping back and looking at the bigger picture.
My advice is to keep returning to your priorities. Before agreeing to an extra detail or making another decision, ask yourself whether it genuinely matters to you both. If it does, make room for it where you can. If it doesn't, give yourself permission to let it go.
You don't need to have everything, and you certainly don't need to recreate every idea you've saved.
The pressure is real, even when you know what you're doing
I also hadn't fully appreciated how different it would feel to be on the other side of the process.
When you're working in bridal, you can offer advice, share experience and help someone else navigate their decisions. When it's your own wedding, every choice can feel more personal. You're not simply helping to create an experience; you're creating one you will remember for the rest of your life.
That brings its own pressure.
You want the day to feel right. You want the people you love to enjoy themselves. You want the choices you've made to come together in the way you imagined. And because there are so many beautiful weddings and ideas around us, it's easy to feel as though there is always something else you could be doing.
Social media doesn't necessarily help. Pinterest and Instagram are brilliant places to discover ideas, but the constant stream of inspiration can make it difficult to know when to stop looking. There will always be another table setting, another dress, another flower arrangement or another detail you hadn't considered.
At some point, you have to decide what feels like you.
I found it helpful to remember that a wedding doesn't need to be the best version of every wedding you've ever seen. It needs to feel right for the two people getting married.
If you love something, include it. If you don't, you don't need to justify leaving it out. And if a decision feels right to you but doesn't fit with what is currently trending, that is absolutely fine.
The most personal weddings aren't necessarily the ones with the most details. They're the ones where you can recognise the people at the centre of them.
The ceremony was the least planned and one of my favourite parts
One of the things that surprised me most was how much I loved a moment I hadn't spent nearly as much time planning as other parts of the wedding: the ceremony itself.
Looking out and seeing everyone you love in one place is a very surreal feeling. These are people who are part of different chapters of your life, people who have travelled to be there, people who know you in different ways. And suddenly, they are all in the same place, witnessing this one moment with you.
It's difficult to explain until you've experienced it.
You can spend months thinking about the venue, the outfits, the flowers, the timings and the atmosphere you want to create. Those things have their place, of course. But when you're standing there, looking out at the people around you, none of those decisions feels quite as important as the fact that they are there.
It was a reminder that a wedding isn't just an event you're producing. It is something you are experiencing.
And those two things can be easy to confuse when you're deep in the planning.
There is so much focus on getting everything ready that you can forget to think about how you want to feel on the day. Not just how you want it to look, but whether you want to feel relaxed, present, surrounded by the people you love, or simply able to enjoy what is happening without thinking about what comes next.
You can't plan every feeling, of course. But you can give yourself the space to experience the day rather than trying to manage every second of it.
The small details matter less than you think
This is probably one of the most reassuring things I would tell another bride.
When you're planning, the small details can take up an extraordinary amount of headspace. You know exactly what you wanted, what you considered, what you changed and what you hoped would happen. So when something doesn't go quite as planned, it can feel much bigger to you than it appears to anyone else.
But your guests don't have the same running commentary in their heads.
They don't know what was supposed to be on a particular table, what time something was meant to happen or which tiny detail you decided against at the last minute. They are experiencing the day as it unfolds, rather than comparing it with the version you've been imagining for months.
That isn't to say the details don't matter. Some will be incredibly meaningful to you, and those are worth investing time in. But there is a difference between caring about the details and feeling responsible for making every single one perfect.
Try not to let the things that go slightly differently take you away from the things that are happening right in front of you.
If something changes, it doesn't automatically mean the day is going wrong. Most of the time, you will be the only person who knows. And long after the wedding, I suspect you'll remember how you felt, who was there and the moments you shared far more vividly than whether every small detail happened exactly as intended.
One thing I would absolutely recommend: ask your friends to take photos
This is a practical piece of advice I would give any couple planning their wedding: ask a few friends to take photographs throughout the day.
Not instead of your photographer, and not because you need to document every minute. Your professional photographs are there to capture the day beautifully. But there is something lovely about having the informal pictures, too — the moments that happen between the official ones.
Your friends might be reluctant to take their phones out because they don't want to interrupt your day or feel as though they should be doing anything other than celebrating with you. Equally, you don't want to spend your wedding asking everyone to take pictures.
So make it easy. Ask a handful of people in advance if they would mind taking some informal photos, and let them know you'd love to see them afterwards. You could even create a shared album where everyone can add their pictures.
You may end up with photographs you would never otherwise have had: the conversations happening across the table, your friends laughing together, the little moments before everyone sits down, or a view of the day from someone else's perspective.
You won't necessarily know what those photographs will mean to you until afterwards. But having them gives you another way to revisit the day, and I think you will be grateful for that.
Choose your suppliers for how they make you feel, too
Working in bridal has made me appreciate the people behind the wedding as much as the finished result.
Of course, you want to find suppliers whose work you love. Their experience, style, communication and ability to deliver what you need all matter. But I would also pay attention to how you feel when you speak to them.
Do you trust them? Do you feel comfortable asking questions? Do they understand what you're trying to create? Can you have an honest conversation about your budget, your priorities and what is realistically possible?
Those things can make the planning process feel very different.
You don't need to know every answer before approaching a supplier, either. Part of their role is to guide you through their area of expertise. A good working relationship should leave you feeling clearer about your decisions, not as though you've suddenly acquired another list of things to worry about.
If you're still building your team, The Gigi & Olive Directory is one place to begin exploring a considered selection of wedding partners. Take your time looking at their work and approach, and choose the people who feel right for the wedding you want to have.
What I would tell a bride starting her planning now
If I could go back to the beginning, I wouldn't tell myself to be more organised or to plan further ahead. I would remind myself that I didn't need to solve everything at once.
I'd tell myself to enjoy being engaged, even while the practical side of planning is getting underway. To make decisions based on what matters to us, rather than what we feel we should be doing. To keep an eye on the budget without letting every cost become a source of stress. And to remember that the day will be meaningful because of what it represents, not because every element is perfectly executed.
I would also remind myself that you can know a lot about weddings and still be surprised by your own.
Experience is useful, but it doesn't remove the emotion of being the person at the centre of it all. If anything, planning my own wedding reminded me how much care goes into these decisions, and how important it is to give couples the space to make them in their own way.
Most of all, I would tell myself to look up.
Look at the people who have come to celebrate with you. Take in the moments that are happening rather than worrying about the ones that might not be going to plan. Let other people help. Ask for the photographs. And remember that you are allowed to enjoy your wedding, rather than spend the whole day making sure everyone else is enjoying it.
Because the moment I keep coming back to isn't a particular detail or a perfectly planned part of the day. It's looking out during the ceremony and seeing everyone I love there.
That is what I want to remember.
And that, more than anything, is what I would encourage every couple to make space for.
