How to be middle class: the modern wedding list

As yet another wedding invitation dropped onto my doormat the other week, I was intrigued by the business style card that arrived with it. Hmm I thought, is it an advert for the wedding planner? I should be so lucky.

It was, of course, part of the middle-class hell that is THE WEDDING LIST.

I have always found wedding lists to be somewhat repugnant, and they have always been a source of anguish for me. Surely I am not alone in this. I have purchased items from so many John Lewis wedding lists that I am sure I could now recite every item they stock in their home wares department. (I mean, how much Denby crockery can a couple really need?) One couple even asked guests for contributions to new double glazing as they had lived together so long there was nothing they really needed. Who said romance is dead?

Wedding lists create endless dilemmas and possibilities for bickering with your partner. Chances are at least one of you doesn’t even want to go to the wedding in the first place. By the time you look at the wedding list, you’ve probably already calculated how much you’ll spend on travelling, hotels, new outfits (Did I wear that dress to the last wedding, or was that the Christening?), kennel fees and bribes to persuade the kids to go with you without too much sulking.

You don’t want to make your purchase too early, it’ll look obvious that you were making sure the ‘under £50’ gifts hadn’t all been snapped up. But, leave it too late and, well, you know the risk.

The little business card had me intrigued though. It had a picture of an aeroplane flying into the sunset and a web address on it. This led me to a website describing the couple’s dream honeymoon and listed endless options of how guests could contribute to it. We were invited to purchase romantic meals in restaurants, boat trips and sightseeing tours, not to mention £10 contributions to bottled water, pizza slices and other snacks that would be required as the couple walked around in the heat. We were even invited to make £5 contributions to a new bed that the couple will need on their return. (Too much info? You be the judge of that).

As far as wedding lists go, I didn’t mind this one. At least it felt like we were contributing to something happy and kind of romantic rather than a piece of kitchen equipment that you just know will never see the light of day.

But then my idealistic thoughts about all the guests contributing towards a romantic holiday for the newly weds were replaced with my usual wedding list cynicism.  When I got to the payment section I found that you don’t really buy the gift that you have selected. You just put the money into the couple’s paypal account. “Let’s not bother with that meal darling, we could put the money towards some new double glazing…”