Having made all the decisions, I think a wedding day is a day

The words of Jenny Packham—“Having made all the decisions, I think a wedding day is a day when you want to forget what you are wearing and be in the moment.”—carry with them the essence of wisdom born from experience. They remind us that while the wedding is often prepared with endless choices, from the cut of the dress to the placing of the flowers, the true heart of the day lies not in the decisions but in the living. For when the moment arrives, all the weight of planning must be laid aside so that love itself may be felt fully.

The garment, though sacred, is not the soul of the day. The bride may spend months choosing fabric, lace, and jewel, yet on the wedding day the dress becomes only a vessel—beautiful, yes, but secondary to the union it clothes. Packham teaches us that freedom comes when the bride forgets herself, no longer consumed by image or detail, but lifted into the timeless instant of vows and devotion. To be in the moment is the greatest beauty of all.

History offers the tale of Marcus Aurelius, who in his meditations spoke of focusing not on outward trappings but on the essence of the present. He warned against being distracted by things external, for true greatness is found in dwelling wholly in the now. In the same way, Packham’s reflection urges the bride to transcend the surface of her attire, however radiant, and root herself in the eternal gravity of the promise she makes.

The truth is paradoxical: only after all the choices are made can one finally forget them. The endless lists, the hours of deliberation, the struggles of preparation—all serve to build a foundation upon which the bride may stand free on her day. Just as a warrior prepares his armor meticulously, only to forget it when battle begins, so too does the bride prepare her dress only to transcend it when love calls her into the sacred moment.

Therefore, O listener, learn this: let not the weight of preparation rob you of the joy of presence. For on the wedding day, what matters most is not the gown, nor the feast, nor the gaze of others, but the union of two souls in the fullness of time. To forget what you wear is not to dishonor it, but to honor something greater—the eternal moment where love speaks louder than all adornment. And in that forgetting, one finds the truest remembrance of all.