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PIQUE'N YER INTEREST: Plans A through Z: Tales from a tired Corona bride

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Photo by Mukhina1/Getty Images

Trigger warning: if you occupy the same orbit as any Corona brides (or, to a lesser extent, grooms), please skip the following column. You undoubtedly have reached your limit of listening to the not-so-happy couple cycle through Plans A to Z and back again like a tulle-clad shit tornado that just wants to slap a ring on it and call it happily-ever-after already. 

While there are many more important topics on which to opine this week, I’m (sorry-not-sorry) all-consumed with my impending nuptials, which will blessedly be over by the time you read this. (Hey, future Alyssa, hope you’re doing better than you were last week!)

The COVID-19 pandemic has destroyed so many plans in the last four months—graduations, in-class post-secondary school, any kind of career advancement, baby showers, birthdays, and, of course weddings.

Mine was 35 years and a few mistakes in the making. By the time I got engaged up at Echo Lake in October 2019, I had been a bridesmaid many times over and celebrated many stagettes, showers, and weddings with my loved ones. While I never imagined myself donning a penis veil, sloppin’ my way through vodka shots with my nearest and dearest, and communing in the Garf’s bathroom with other sash-clad brides-to-be 10 years my junior, I was blissfully happy to see my big day on the horizon. 

To my fiancé’s somewhat muted horror, I began contacting venues the day after he popped the question—largely because I’ve edited Wishes wedding magazine for the last seven years and know how popular Sea to Sky weddings have become. 

By the time mid-March came around (six lifetimes ago in the Before Times, by my rough estimate), the big day was essentially planned: mid-July at Sunwolf in Squamish. An Alice and Brohm ice cream truck would roll up, family would stay in cabins onsite, and, finally, we would have the chance to show off our beautiful corridor community to our loved ones—many of whom were planning their summer vacations around the event. 

And then, along with the rest of the world, we were suddenly working from home, afraid to go to the grocery store, and unsure when we’d hang out with friends again.

But surely, we thought, this madness would be over by July. 

As the weeks wore on, my patience wore thin. I began to obsessively Google ridiculous things like “What will July be like COVID.” 

Come the beginning of May, it was obvious. We sent an email to our out-of-town guests: the wedding wasn’t happening this year. 

Instead, we launched into Plan B. At that time, it seemed unfathomable our parents and siblings (who had seen us through so much and I wanted so badly to witness the conclusion to this particular story arc) would be able to travel from Alberta and Ontario for what wedding website The Knot had newly coined a “Minimony.” 

Things were so bad everywhere and no one seemed to have any insight into when it might end. The last thing we wanted was for anyone to get sick on our account. 

So, we decided our consolation prize would be the freedom to do an epic, low-key hiking elopement. Our officiant assured me she was up to the task and, in fact, had just run 10 kilometres that morning. Our photographer likewise seemed keen to hit the trails.

And then, just as we began to put that plan in motion, the clouds parted and one little weak sunbeam shone through; things were getting better in both Alberta and B.C. Maybe, just maybe, our parents could come. The idea of walking down the aisle with both my parents by my side—towards my future groom and his likewise lovely parents—filled my worn-out heart with so much hope. 

Twice bitten, thrice shy, we waited until the last minute for Plan C: a slightly over-the-top elopement with our parents at North Arm Farm, a venue we had initially dreamed of but ruled out for logistical reasons. 

Right now, six days away from that current and—PLEASE, GOD—final plan, it’s fun to daydream about how it might actually turn out. (It’ll be even more fun next year to look back and discover if our reception at Sunwolf could actually happen or not. Surprises abound!) 

While we were among the first wave of Coronacouples to have our wedding foiled, we will certainly not be the last as this pandemic winds on with no real end in sight. 

Why, you ask, would anyone else knowingly continue to subject themselves to this expensive, wrenching, grey-hair-inducing process? 

Because if this pandemic has taught us anything it’s that nothing in this life is certain and if you have found the right person to weather the shit tornado with, that’s worth celebrating.




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