703 Creative Wedding Ideas for Under 115,000 Mollusk Shells

Last week came the sad news that Modern Bride magazine will bid adieu to the “I do” game. The unfortunate decline of print media continues even as the creative wedding industry at large remains strong, buoyed by the development of several new ways to tie ribbons on folding chairs. Soon, like the happy couples it advised, Modern Bride, beacon of the industry, will be lovingly pelted with birdseed and driven off into the sunset while a drunken uncle takes a moment to wash his feet in the ladies' restroom.

It is a testament to Modern Bride that it departs with its honor intact, instead of leaving us with the sinking feeling that it was compromised in the backseat of an Oldsmobile Alero by an issue of Golf Digest. Such was the sad fate of Libertarian Review.

Before I continue, I feel it best to disclose the details of my own wedding. Though a devotee of Modern Bride, I chose the guidance of its competitor Archaic Bride, which is delivered monthly via heliograph, an obsolete mode of communication in which bursts of sunlight are transmitted by mirror. Tragically, the July issue of Archaic Bride blinded our florist. On the upside, her guide dog wears the most beautiful leis. At any rate, choosing Archaic Bride in no way discredits my allegiance to Modern Bride. The decision was largely budgetary. A frugal reader of Archaic Bride can design a wedding for well under 115,000 mollusk shells.

Like many subscribers, I turned to Modern Bride not only to glean the latest nuptial news but to brush up on my math skills. It was a rare month that its cover did not challenge me with the promise of “935 Creative Ideas,” “670 Creative Ideas,” “703 Creative Ideas,” or “The Square Root of 937 Creative Ideas.” In fact, it was in the pages of Modern Bride that I learned there are more creative wedding ideas than there are base pairs in the human genome.

But what truly set Modern Bride apart was the strict code of ethics it applied to the production and distribution of those zillions of creative wedding ideas. As detailed in “Don’t Touch That: A People’s History of the Floating Candle,” until Modern Bride’s entrance on the scene, the creative wedding idea industry was riddled with sweatshop conditions, public safety concerns, and occasionally riddles. One popular publication suggested that brides ask their grooms “Why was the belt arrested? For holding up your pants!” It was an error that cost dozens of lives. The public demanded accountability, but the federal government was slow to respond. Into this vacuum, Modern Bride introduced a self-regulatory system that rated creative wedding ideas according to a color code: peach, coral, buttercup, champagne, blush, and raw chicken. It is still used today.

Without the leadership of Modern Bride, many fear the creative wedding industry will backslide, and we will see a return to the discredited methods of the past. The only way we can avoid such a fate is to arm ourselves with knowledge (which is still the best defense against anything other than fists, sticks, knives, clubs, guns, and packs of wild dogs):

Almost 80 percent of creative wedding ideas originate in northwestern Bolivia, where they are mined from the rich veins of the Cordillera Real at its border with the Altiplano. Mining here is a way of life and there is great excitement when seemingly out of the earth one hears the shout “Ay mi dios! Why not shake things up with a cupcake tower?”

Bolivia’s indigenous peoples believed these ideas were gifts from the gods and that their gods were just particularly poor at choosing gifts. To make use of them, a soothsaying ritual evolved in which an unmarried female would boil a creative wedding idea, grind the residue into a pulp, and steep it into a tea. In the mystical high that ensued, she would see visions of a terrifying future, wherein she would live alone, childless, with disposable income. Instead of joyfully crushing corn for her family, she would be forced to endure the backbreaking work of wandering the village when she feels like it, causing outbursts when the mood hits and accepting sacrifices from her neighbors. Except for the free time and steady flow of presents, it is a miserable existence.

In the late 15th century, the first shipment of creative wedding ideas was delivered from Bolivia to Spain’s Queen Isabella. Europeans went mad for them, especially the Europeans already mad from the mercury in their hats, the lead in their pipes, and the arsenic in their wallpaper. When they populated the New World, they set themselves two immediate goals: killing Mohicans and finding exciting ways to create an unforgettable centerpiece with clear glass marbles.

By the late 19th century, the industry employed thousands. No longer were creative wedding ideas simply plied from the bowels of the earth. Now, they were refined at factories, stitched into wedding magazines, and distributed nationwide. Conditions were harsh—many refinery workers, exposed daily to ideas like “a shower of bubbles guaranteed to delight wedding guests young and old,” were afflicted with bubble spleen. Others struggled to raise a family on two tulle-tied clusters of Jordan almonds a week.

With World War II came technological marvels. The tactic of releasing live butterflies after the wedding ceremony was pushed through newly built production lines to be used as a weapon against the Japanese. But Prime Minister Tojo didn’t blink. Unbeknownst to U.S. forces, his wedding to Katsuki Ito had featured butterfly wedding favors that could be reused as washable napkin rings. Still, the machinery was now in place. Converted to civilian use, the lines produced a gazillion creative wedding ideas every 15 minutes.

This was the wild that Modern Bride tamed. In the years that followed, behemoths like Future Bride cut corners, suggesting the serving of hors d’oeuvres by enslaved robots captured during the Android Invasion of 2307. Post-Modern Bride bankrupted thousands, advising young couples to replace their wedding cake with eleven alphabet cakes that when placed side by side spelled “wedding cake.” But Modern Bride fought for justice, eventually getting even Unregulated Bride to agree to self-regulation, and fully participating in the color-coded rating system it initiated. No one will forget Modern Bride’s courage, in April 2004, when it rated as “raw chicken” its own creative wedding idea—a romantic meeting of white doves, tea candles, and a cupid-costumed golden retriever puppy with bark-activated bow and arrow.

Speaking of raw chicken, without Gourmet, what are we supposed to do with it?