And How Much Will *That* Cost?

Do you need a wedding planner? Yes, you do. Go get one. And keep all the documentation, *however* insignificant, in it. It will curtail literally *thousands* of arguments along the way about where stuff is and, more pertinently, who put what where. Believe me, it’s stress you don’t need. And set aside a filing cabinet drawer while you’re at it.

Now, do you need a wedding planner? This time I mean one of those wedding-obsessed females who found organising her own wedding not quite enough hardship and decided to perform the same tasks for lots of people she doesn’t know, FOR A LIVING!

Obviously not. I mean, ‘why would we need one of them?’. ‘We can do it ourselves’. ‘It’ll be fun!’. ‘This is our wedding, why do we need someone else to do all the work?’… were some of the lies I peddled to cover the, quite literally, bottom line question: ‘and how much will *that* cost???’ A wedding planner would, undoubtedly, be a costly, unnecessary expense.

In fairness, I’m quite bright, so I understood the basic facts. For example, I know here’s where they could come into their own; to any venue/supplier, unless you are Liza Minnelli, you are *not* repeat business. A wedding planner *is* repeat business. Your venue could (and probably will) charge you way over the odds and are not under any pressure (bar their integrity) to provide a very good service. It doesn’t really matter to them, as you’re not ever getting married again. Certainly not there, anyway.

A wedding planner will bring potentially hundreds of customers to them year after year after year, so it’s in their interests to offer good deals and excellent service. One bad day, and hundreds of thousands of pounds’ worth of future business could be lost.

However, something was niggling in the back of my head. Oh, yeah: ‘and how much will *that* cost???’

Furthermore, to coin one of Mrs Dan-To-Be’s favourite wedding-related phrases: ‘we’re not from ‘round here…’, and thus know nothing of wedding-related paraphernalia in the surrounding area. (Though, if we *were* from ‘round here, we’d know nothing of wedding-related paraphernalia in the surrounding area, as we rarely, if ever, get married).

So imagine the stress, inconvenience and time that would be wasted in trying to track down, visit and discuss suitable venues for our wedding. To find eight potentials, we’d have to narrow down our search from thousands, ring them all up, arrange times to visit each on more than likely, eight separate, inconsecutive, inconvenient weekends before reaching a decision.

A wedding planner could sit down with us, have a chat to find out what sort of people we are, immediately come up with a number of venues and, within two weeks, potentially arrange a couple of Saturdays where she’d drive us to four well-suited venues, tightly scheduled to make best use of our time. Just imagine: all would be carefully-matched to our tastes and budget, excluding extortionate fairytale castles and kitsch local public houses.

But, something…. Oh. Again. ‘And how much will *that* cost???’

Mind you, she’d carefully keep a tight reign on our budget. We’d be the ones pushing for this, that and the other and she’d say things like: ‘Well, if you do that, you’ll have to compromise here. And here. And especially here where all the fun is.’ This could actually be a good thing, as the two of us are more likely to find a reason to over-spend. No, really, both of us are equally able to go into Sainsbury’s for a pint of milk and some bread and come out with £136 pounds’ worth of spend, so a third party’s less-partisan opinion could be of invaluable benefit. Having to justify going over-budget to somebody other than yourselves would be a great eye-opener and be enough to make you reconsider.

‘And how much will *that* cost???’

There’s a downside to this wedding planner-y thing, I was informed.

‘Oh, yeah?’ I replied, innocently.

Turns out they’re not free.

‘No shit, Sherlock.’

‘So – how much will *that* cost???’

I was reliably informed that you’d expect to pay around 10% of the wedding costs on this particular resource. That, in case you’re wondering, is a *lot*.

Fully expecting an intimidating cost of around £1500 minimum, I sat, listening to our ‘free consultation’ as she thoroughly described every stressful, fraught task she’d happily take off our hands: visiting venues, suggesting and organising meetings with suppliers, dealing with awkward family members and, if we so wished, even going as far as organising the hen and stag dos.

But, as she went through each wonderful, inconvenient item she’d be taking off our hands, all I heard in my head was:

‘And how much will *that* cost???’

‘But how much will *that* cost???’

‘So how much will *that* cost???’

After two hours of describing our delightful, utterly stress-free wedding, she finally broached the subject of costs. After a build-up where she reiterated that, due to booking our ‘free consultation’ at a wedding fayre/fair/fare, she’d throw in the ‘on-the-day organisation’, apparently worth £300, for free.

I felt myself stuck in a rigid, superglued grimace. People only mention the freebies and reduce the volume in their voices when they’re about to hit you with some very, *very* bad news.

She humbly whispered £600.

Next thing I knew, I had almost ripped her arm out of the socket, I found myself shaking it so furiously.

The money is more than worth it for the stress she’s taken away. Not only that, but she’s managed such a deal with the venue, that she’s saved us more money than she costs to hire. So we’re not only stress-free, but quids-in!

So, do you need a wedding planner?

At that price, I’m thinking we should have booked two…

PHOTO CREDIT

Stuart Pilbrow

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• Fayre Do’s
• Organising a wedding – the bits in between
• Going A Little Bit Loopy
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