If you’ve ever planned a wedding before, you probably understand why the job of “wedding planner” exists. This shit is a fulltime job. And not one that I—or my fiance—necessarily wants (or has time for). Alas, because our budget is tight (yes, at around $20,000, THE BUDGET IS CONSIDERED TIGHT IN WEDDINGLAND), we’re being forced to do most of the planning ourselves. Our one luxury, as I pleaded for earlier, is hiring a day-of coordinator, so we don’t have to do manual labor between our vows. (By the way, the coordinator is the best $800 we’ve spent so far.)
But whatever, wedding planners and such aren’t what this post is supposed to be about. No, after that long, rambling and, rather, unskillful introduction, what I really want to talk about are the wedding rings, and more specifically, who’s supposed to pick them out and buy them?
Engagement ring “rules,” no matter how dumb, are a little more straightforward. Tradition says the person proposing should take care of that duty (and expense). But since we kinda bucked tradition on that (we saved some bones and used an heirloom ring I already had that belonged to my grandma), we decided to scoff once again at tradition in this case.
According to my three minutes of intense Google searching, it seems you’re supposed to purchase one another’s band. I don’t really get it. Technically, I suppose, wedding bands are “gifts,” but what if you both have dramatically different bank accounts? Or taste levels? What if one of you is a Kardashian? (Worst. Wedding band. Ever.) I dunno, it just seemed to us that the easiest, most fair and straightforward solution was to each just buy ourselves what we like, whatever we could imagine wearing each day for the rest of our lives.
And, come on, who really has time to send each other multiple links about what he or she likes or worse, spend an afternoon wasting precious wedding-planning (or not) time jewelry-store hopping? That sounds like a nightmare.
So instead, we did what living in the 21st century allows us to do and purchased our baubles online, without a whole lot of consultation with one another. So, no, our rings don’t match. In fact, they barely even coordinate. But really, who cares? We don’t wear the same style and size of pants, so why would we wear the same jewelry?
He chose a pretty basic 14k white gold 4mm band with a satin finish that he found on some random site called iWeddingBand.com. It cost him somewhere around $200.
I, on the other hand (LITERALLY, get it?!), went for something slightly less classic (and a little more expensive at $300). Unlike him, I also spent a little more time (maybe, like, 20 minutes instead of 10) Googling some options. Eventually, I scoped out an independent Brooklyn-based jeweler named Aaron Ruff, who designs under the moniker Digby & Iona. You’ll have to use your imagination to picture this in polished 14k white gold, instead of rose:
You like? You don’t have to answer that because we really don’t care if anyone likes these or not. In fact, we barely care if each other likes them, as long as whoever’s wearing ’em likes ’em because, again, it’s not the bling that makes a wedding wonderful, it’s the sentiment. And the dranks.