The venue for Liz and Joe’s wedding is what really set the theme. It had art deco lines, and black, white and gold details. The couple threw in as much colour, shine and personality as they could and created a day with a party-first approach which was as fun as it was stylish.

The day began with them doing a first look and reading private vows from vintage copies of Playboy magazine. Liz explained, “We were led back to back, held hands while crying and reading the words from our heart and new promises held to one another, then when done turned around to have our first look at one another. It really added to the emotion of the moment and was an important grounding for us both before the craziness swept us into the evening!”

They left religion out of the ceremony and replaced it with something that felt more like them. A decanter sat waiting as they each brought two different tequilas to blend into one. They took the first sip together, then their wedding crew followed with shots in their honour. “Now for big life ‘firsts’ or anniversaries we get to sip on our special blend wedding tequila!” said Liz.

The wedding was also child-free, a decision they were never going to waiver on. Instead of flower girls, they had two of their closest friends flutter down the aisle like fairies with vibrant silk fans to the song Stand By Me by Florence + The Machine.

In terms of music for the rest of the night, they skipped the usual crowd-pleasers and handed control to their DJ with the instruction to play the songs that get people really going on a night out. The dancefloor was packed all night! “We only wish we could have played music longer than our venue allowed! But we did get a house that was within walking distance for all wedding party and fam/friends who were still feeling like gettin’ down to come hang out afterwards!”

The reception space was decorated minimally. Tables had art deco inspired cheap frames which they added disco ball stickers to, and there was a memorial table titled ‘For Those Dancing with us From the Stars’ to display photos of their loved ones who were not able to be there. Liz also made her own garter from gummy sweets.

“Someone is most likely gonna feel some sort of uncomfortable feeling or some kind of let down if you are not following traditions”, Liz advices. “But this day is yours and yours alone. Be who you are, not what other people want you to be. And don’t get too drunk – it goes by so fast and you want to enjoy and remember it!”

There’s nothing like a wedding to bring your core values sharply into focus. You start by thinking about dresses and flowers and end up asking yourself much deeper questions:

Why does my father ‘giving me away’ not sit right with me?
How do we know if our suppliers are actually supportive of our queer relationship?
Does it make me a ‘bridezilla’ to be specific about what we want our day to look like?

It can hit you like an unexpected steam train and can be a lot harder to navigate than finding the perfect outfit. But it’s also where Rock n Roll Bride magazine is really here to help! We will show you all the awesome alt dress ideas and unique florals while also hitting you with the answers to all your big, existential questions.

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I’m also really excited to let you know we are introducing two new columnists to the magazine. First, up we’ve got Georgia, who’s marrying Ryan later this year. We’ll be following their planning journey in The Nearlywed Diaries (and don’t worry, we’ll of course be publishing their day after it happens to you can see how it all turned out!)

We also have a brand-new fashion editor, Aja Jewel. She is a wedding stylist based in Denver and she’s taking over our fashion column while also creating some seriously special, inclusivity-focused shoots for us to publish.

And speaking of shoots, we have to talk about this issue’s cover shoot! The editorials we create are my favourite part of the job. It’s where I get to be the most creative and work with some seriously talented, passionate-about-what-they-do people.

For this issue, I wanted something that felt classic Rock n Roll Bride – tattooed model, chunky jewellery, a black, white and red palette – but with a nod to more traditional bridal styling through lace and corsetry. They’re classics for a reason. If anyone dares ask what you’re going to look like with “all those tattoos”, feel free to throw a copy of this issue in their direction!

I hope you enjoy this new issue as much as I did putting it all together. Take what feels right, leave what doesn’t, and build a wedding that actually makes sense for you.

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Mrs Greenfield?“

I sat there in the doctors office nonchalantly flicking through a three year old version of OK! Magazine. There was silence in the waiting room as I internally judged the person who had missed their appointment. The NHS is already stretched without selfish people not showing up.

“Mrs Greenfield?“

I think I like how my new name sounds. I’ve loved him for eight years, he’s my family. There’s something soft and lovely about the idea of sharing a surname, of seeing it one day on a birth certificate next to our baby’s name. It felt like choosing our family name, not just borrowing his. A shared identity.

“MRS GREENFIELD!“

Oh wait, that’s me! I leapt to my feet like I’d been caught napping at work and followed a bemused nurse through to my GP’s office. The very first time I’d claimed the name as my own.

Everyone should be free to choose to take their partner’s name or not; double barrel them; smash them together; invent a new name whole cloth. There’s no wrong decision. My father was less daddy-dearest and more Darth Vader. There is no love lost there. Why should I show loyalty to the man or the name? Mum ditched the name as soon as she remarried so “Jones” had come to feel like a grotesque family heirloom I never wanted but still had to hang in the hall. Why keep the name of a man who has lost the right to call me his daughter when I could have the name of a wonderful, open-hearted man who’d call me his partner? Greenfield had the promise of newformed family. Pastoral, wholesome, a name that sounds like it comes with a charming suburban house and sensible Corsa. Which it does.

In the run up to our wedding I felt enormous societal and internal pressure to make a decision, to decide whether I would keep the only name I’ve ever known, or be consumed by the, in my mind, suffocatingly traditional route of taking the name of a(nother) man. But then something changed my mind, my soon to be husband, Mat. I know that sounds like he convinced me to take his surname but it was the exact opposite. Over a bi-annual Buffy the Vampire Slayer re-watch and my bi-nightly debate with myself about last names, Mat uttered the magic words “when you’re ready, just let me know what our name is”. In that moment, I realised how much it mattered that it wasn’t simply assumed I would be the one to change, that he was willing to question his own identity so I didn’t feel alone in this decision.

Whatever you choose, it takes some getting used to. Like swapping comfy trainers, however battered, for stiff new ones. The first hint that the journey of changing my name wouldn’t be some romantic Richard Curtis-style movie moment was the paperwork. I wouldn’t emerge from a bridal chrysalis and simply unfurl my marital wings to find “Greenfield” embroidered in gossamer letters. Rather, I’d become a Greenfield by degrees: slow, tedious and fraught with obstacles. Three obstinate banks, a driving licence that took so long I thought it might arrive by carrier pigeon, and a work email address that left half the office convinced I was new—and yet, after all that, I didn’t feel any more like a Greenfield. Just considerably more frustrated.

The practical issues continued. I was known by everyone at work as CJ. When I first started at Catch22 as a Designer there was already a Courtney on that team, cue me having to use a nickname I had not heard since high school. My mum suggested my childhood nickname but ‘Coco Jones’ sounds more like someone who arrives to a meeting with a sparkly jacket giving jazz hands, not the probably still too young for the job Senior Designer. It didn’t quite have the gravitas to cover up the inferiority complex, so, CJ it was. Would that make me CG now? CJ is light on the tongue, it rolls; CG is a craggy rock. Would I spend the rest of my time there listening out for that jarring pair of letters every day? In the end, there were a few jokes but CJ emerged triumphant. Turns out people can adjust to name changes far easier than massive organisations like banks or the DVLA.

Could all this stress mean that I missed Jones? Not the questionable side of the family, God no, but the identity. Jones had survived twenty-one years of education, Cramlington village club nights, horrendous haircuts, and the indignity of dial-up internet. Jones was broken in, it carried the memory of embarrassing disasters and wonderful triumphs. Greenfield hadn’t earned any of that. It was like swapping your battered Vans for shiny brogues: objectively better made, but not yet ready to tear up the dancefloor in.

After going through a process as difficult as threading a needle in a hurricane wearing a blindfold, there is some advice I can share which will hopefully make the journey a little smoother, or at least not as peppered with potholes.

Make the decision for yourself and no one else. If Mat had been in anyway pushy about me changing my name, my stobborness would have reigned supreme and I wouldn’t have done it at all.

Order a minimum of two (preferably three) original marriage certificates. A surprising number of places require you to send them the originals. I spent most of July and August waiting for them to be returned before I could continue the process.

Start with the easy stuff first – if you can change your Instagram name without crying then you’re on the way to dealing with the government.

Always remember beurocracy moves as slowly as a turtle swimming with a parachute on. Don’t panic if you haven’t hear back within a week. Or a month.

Brace yourselves for this one, millennials. At least one place will insist you talk to them on the phone. It goes against our anxious hearts but the boomer in charge will insist on hearing your croaky little unpractised voice.

Get married as close to your passport expiring as possible. £90 to change your name on it is a grift. But, if you’re going on some amazing honeymoon, wait until after you get back, no one needs to be chasing up the Royal Mail while answering endless questions about your wedding.

On that note, make sure you book your honeymoon under whatever name is on your passport. The temptation to pre-emptively book the first holiday of your married life as “Mr and Mrs X” might seem strong but you’ll not feel that way if you’re left on the runway at Heathrow.

Make sure your work nickname isn’t contingent on your last name.  

Despite the obstacles (both bureaucratic and emotional) I couldn’t be happier to be a Greenfield. With time, I’m sure Greenfield will pick up the nicks and scratches of real life—the burnt dinners, the dances in the kitchen, the Park and Rec marathons—that make a name feel lived in. After all, new trainers become old the more you walk in them.

About the Author

Courtney Greenfield is Head of Creative at London-based social business Catch22. This is the official way of saying she’s paid to make things look cool and passionately argue about fonts. By day, she’s drawing, animating or (according to her family) “colouring things in”. By night, she’s stargazing: mentally preparing for her future role on the next Artemis mission (NASA are yet to return her calls). That, or watching Buffy. 

A and S got married at Holey Moley in Fortitude Valley, a crazy golf place which had been a regular date night stop whenever they were in Brisbane. Set inside an old church and black and white on the outside, it was perfect for their aesthetic and loud and playful inside which was perfect for their personalities!

The brief was to have a day that was fun, relaxed, and open to everyone. Guests were encouraged to bring their kids and there was no pressure to keep them still or quiet. The bride had been married before so knew what she was doing. They planned the wedding in a month! “I have ADHD and challenging is what I need to succeed!” she laughed.

The ceremony was officiated by the bride’s best friend and her mum walked her down the aisle. “My dad got to do it last time!” she said. “We also didn’t do a whole lot of posed group photos as we just wanted everyone to be enjoying their time and not having to be airing around and posing. We had no bridesmaids and I had my other best friend as a ‘bridesman’ instead. We had two flower girls, one was my daughter who was 10 at the time and one was my friend who was 26!”

After the ceremony guests ate tacos, played rounds of mini golf, sang karaoke, and used the vintage-style photo booth. They hired the venue from from 1 to 5pm, with food, drinks, activities and prizes included. It made everything super simple to organise.

“Only do what pleases you and your partner”, A concluded. “No one else matters. When you’re old and your memory isn’t what it was you’ll still always have them to look back on. Literally everyone kept saying they had never been to a more fun wedding. You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face the entire day. I was genuinely just so happy and chill.”

Feeling stressed about the idea of planning a big wedding? Let Keely and Myles, who planned their New York wedding in less than a month, inspire you!

They met in high school and their first real date was their prom! They got engaged in 2018, but were in no rush to actually make things official. “Even though were were engaged, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to get married”, Keely explained. “I didn’t feel like we needed it to prove anything, and I definitely didn’t want to force a traditional wedding into something that didn’t fit us. But everything changed on his birthday in January. I felt so connected to him and so overwhelmed with love that the next morning I asked him to marry me. His response was, ‘Well, I asked you years ago and I still want to!'” That same week they got their marriage license, and by the end of February they were married.

The day unfolded like their best day ever – just one where they happened to also get married! They walked around the city they love, got doughnuts and pizza, had drinks at a local bar, and did photos on their rooftop and in their living room with their cats.

“We didn’t tell friends or family beforehand because we didn’t want to feel like we had to manage anyone else’s expectations”, Keely explained. The ceremony itself lasted just over two minutes. “From start to finish… it was 2 minutes and 3 seconds. That’s all it took and suddenly I had a whole husband! It was short, a little surreal, and honestly perfect for us.”

There was no reception, and other than their photographer, no one else was involved at all. “It felt like a love letter to our everyday life together. The vibe was a little indie sleaze; slightly chaotic and not over-curated.”

“You can truly do whatever you want”, Keely advises. “There’s no need to fit a mould or aim for perfection. The wedding industry can make it feel like there’s a ‘right’ way to do things or that everything needs to be elevated and curated. The most meaningful moments for us came from simplicity and authenticity. At the end of the day, it felt less like a ‘wedding’ and more like the best version of a day we would normally spend together.”