The parents don’t speak up. They don’t set limits. They’re afraid

Over the last two weeks, the magazine has hosted a spirited discussion about the “price of belonging” — the resources we devote, willingly or unwillingly, to make sure we and our children fit in to our society’s unwritten Style Guide. This week, I decided to pass my mic to a veteran party planner in the Tristate area who has gained, by dint of her position, a very intimate view of the spending pressures that accompany our simchahs. Here is her take on where our weddings go wrong — and how they can get better.

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a party planner with decades of experience, I interact with many kinds of baalei simchah, spanning a range of financial brackets and spending habits. Some of my clients are very confident and self-assured. They know what they can and can’t afford, what kind of simchah they are comfortable making and what simchah is just not their style.

But I’ve also worked with many, many clients who feel pressured by to meet communal standards, and who are concerned “what will the other side think” and “what does the other side expect.” I get it: There is a certain sense of vulnerability when making a simchah; you’re on display and you want to host an event that’s perceived as appropriate and correct, welcoming and generous. That kind of pressure is normal and natural, to a certain degree.

What seems unusual and different is that lately, a lot of the pressure is coming from the kids.

There used to be a certain understanding among our young chassanim and kallahs: Parents would take the chassan’s and kallah’s preferences into account when it was possible and realistic, but the young couple were not the decision makers when it came to the details of the wedding.

These days that understanding has evaporated. Not only do the chassanim and kallahs want a say, they think it’s all about them.

If their parents are not able or willing or comfortable to spend a certain amount on something their children feel they must have, the children’s attitude all too often is “how could you not fulfill my vision of my special day?” For the girls, it might be a specific makeup artist or hairdresser, a high-end gown rental, or a photographer they follow and admire. For boys it might be the alcohol, the limo, the hotel, or the music.

The girls don’t really process how much money their wish list will cost their parents. The boys don’t realize that by insisting on a full band, their in-laws will no longer qualify for a takanah package, and they’ll have to spend double on the wedding.

And as the parents go over the numbers and squeeze more and harder, they keep asking: How can we not give our kids, on their special day, those things that will “make the whole event”?

What I know — from watching these weddings play out night after night, from accompanying the kallah through the entire process, from the pre-wedding photo shoot to the post-chuppah hair change — is that all those “essentials” that will “make the whole wedding” are really not that significant. Having a second hairstyle for the dancing, or having a well-known singer, or a specific band, is not going to make the wedding. True joy doesn’t come from any of that.

But the parents don’t speak up. They don’t set limits. They’re afraid.

They’re afraid of “ruining” their relationship at this last, precious juncture before their child leaves home. They feel it’s their last chance to get it right, and they’re so frightened to mess up.

I find this most often when I’m dealing with parents of a girl. True, they don’t want to spend $2,500 on a makeup artist, or thousands of dollars on a custom gown. But they don’t want to ruin their relationship with their daughter, especially during this fragile time. Sometimes I see parents shelling out $10,000 that they don’t have — all for “the relationship.”

Yes, a wedding is the couple’s special night. And yes, the simchah is all about this new home that they are building. It’s something we want to celebrate. But that doesn’t mean the new couple gets to disregard the financial constraints of their parents — or the feelings, schedules, and hungry stomachs of their guests. How is it that a couple can keep 400 people waiting while they take endless photos in search of the perfect shot — or the kallah does a hairstyle change — without a drop of consideration? All those people have turned their schedules upside down, gotten dressed and made arrangements, expressly to come share in their simchah… and yet the new couple is oblivious.

(As a side note: We have to stop letting photographers run weddings. A new couple tends to follow orders and sometimes their parents do, too; if a photographer tells them, “Stay here,” they will, even if hundreds of guests are waiting. Or even if they’re feeling faint and dizzy.)

The way things are going, I’m pretty sure that soon there will be a new standard at our weddings: not just two hairstyles for the kallah, but two gowns. One for before and one for after the chuppah. Compounding not just the parents’ bill, but the guests’ already-considerable wait time. And parents will say: How can we deprive our daughters of their dream wedding night double gown ensembles?

It’s easy to kvetch and criticize. Practically speaking, what can parents do?

In the past, there was an attempt to enforce takanah weddings with strict limitations. I don’t think a bare-bones approach is realistic for our community today. As a society, we have come to expect certain standards. No one’s making a vort with white plastic plates and disposable tablecloths. Spartan weddings won’t work for our community.

But that doesn’t mean we can’t implement changes. In recent years, askanim have developed wedding packages that are very tasteful and beautiful while allowing parents to keep expenses between $20,000–$30,000 for a wedding. These wedding packages (and there are corresponding vort packages — some offered by halls and similar versions offered by party planners) are, to my mind, realistic and respectful solutions.

They meet a communal standard while not going overboard on decor or music. And they also spare parents from throwing money — quite literally — into the garbage, by limiting the number of guests who are invited to the meal. I’ve been at enough simchahs to know that many, if not most, of the guests show up for a few minutes of dancing and don’t touch the food. Why spend so much money on all those plates that no one will eat?

Parents can also ask their child: What is the one thing that’s nonnegotiable for you? Find one very important thing, and we will try to make it happen. It could be the gown, or maybe the flowers, or something similar. For the rest, we will work within our budget and preferences.

No, a kallah doesn’t have to get every single item she’s dreaming of in order to have a beautiful, magical wedding. Not everything has to be five-star or “top.” Parents can say “yes” to some requests and “no” to others and the wedding can still be magnificent and memorable. I see so much fear from parents, and it is unfounded and wrong. Parents can convey love and caring for their children while also maintaining their value system. And a wedding — an event of kedushah, connection, and continuity — should be conducted in accordance with our values.

IN the short-term, I predict that communal wedding pressures will get worse before they get better. The boys will keep pushing for their custom suits and big bands. The girls will assume that of course they need that gown and that makeup artist and that photographer. And the parents will keep giving in.

But in the long-term, I have a feeling that we’re going to end the insanity and start making weddings that make sense not just for the baalei simchah’s wallets, but also for their guests. To do this, we have to think about both numbers and format. Imagine if we’d invite just the immediate family and closest friends to the chuppah. We’d start the event much earlier, and have a small, intimate crowd for the kabbalas panim, chuppah, and seudah. We’d serve the meal — all in one sitting — to that small gathering. Then we’d welcome friends and neighbors for dancing, without any expectation that they have to sit or we have to pay for a meal they won’t eat anyway.

The new, pared-down simchahs of the future will be enjoyable — and authentically beautiful. Because I can tell you, after all these years working behind the scenes, that what makes a simchah truly beautiful is a quality we call “ambience.” And while a secular party planner might pinpoint the elements of ambience as lighting, flowers, food, I know that it’s something much less tangible but more basic. It’s how people feel when they come into that wedding hall. If they feel appreciated, if they feel valued, if they feel that their presence matters and brings real joy, then they are at a simchah with true ambience.

At our new, improved, less wasteful, and more intentional simchahs, the baalei simchah will feel less tense, less pressured and anxious. And the chassanim and kallahs will feel celebrated and special. They will be surrounded by people who feel — and radiate their feeling — that this simchah truly matters. That they are cheering on the new couple as they begin building their new home. That this event brings them real joy.

And our young couples will also feel that they are part of a community where people are considerate and respectful of one another’s time and resources. What better foundation can there be for a strong and lasting Yiddishe home?

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1094)