With the rustling of fallen leaves under my feet and the smell of roasted pumpkin in the air, I have always anticipated Halloween: the candies, the parties, and most of all, the costumes. Dressing up was always my favorite part. I’d spend months planning the perfect costume. Two years ago, I decided to blend my two loves by marrying the man of my dreams on Halloween.
Baz Luhrman’s film, The Great Gatsby, made me dream in art deco: the flowy frocks, the bling-bling headdresses, and the never-ending party. I fell in love with the romantic-yet-somber aesthetics of leather driving gloves, and matte vintage flasks in Jim Jarmusch’s Only Lovers Left Alive. I adored the idea of neurotic vampires, Adam and Eve, who collected ancient books and expensive guitars. The star-crossed lovers traveled around the world to be with each other, despite their undead circumstances.
My heritage inspired my wedding, too. As a Taiwanese Canadian woman, I always wanted a Chinese-style wedding dress, slim-fitting silk qipao with a Mandarin collar.
Janet Wong, a SCAD alumna, seamlessly assembled my ideas and eclectic sensibilities. She created the perfect dress for my three flower girls and myself.
“It’s black!” Mom gasped on my wedding day when she saw the dress. Well, it’s not quite black—it’s a shimmery, silvery black. A full-length dress with a Mandarin collar that cinches at the waist, embellished with delicate silver and black sequins in a zigzag pattern.
I commissioned a headpiece from Debbi Harrison Bond, an accessory designer. She used vintage glass rhinestones to craft my Daisy Buchanan-inspired sparkler. My nails were shellacked black dusted with gold glitter at the tips. To my art deco sapphire and diamond engagement ring, we added a simple white gold wedding band.
My three flower girls, the adorable sisters, were dressed in the innocent, timeless aesthetic of The Great Gatsby. They had ivory silk tops embroidered with traditional Chinese patterns of fish, Phoenix, and dragons. To complement my dress, their ensembles featured Mandarin collars. Each dress had a different gauzy, sweet, vanilla tutu. They wore little flower hairbands and golden ballerina flats.
My talented husband created my wedding bouquet of white tiger lilies and cheerful orange daisies wrapped in regal black-silk ribbon. I wore my mom’s double-strand pearls, matching earrings and glistening dark-grey shoes given to me by my friend, the mother of the flower girls.
After the ceremony, it was time for the costume party. Even my mom had a good time. Once the sheer top layer of my dress was removed, a knee-length dress was revealed underneath. Traditionally, Chinese brides change into three outfits during the wedding reception, but I didn’t want that for myself. My shorter dress gave me the freedom to move about, socialize and dance. My groom and I were vampires, joined together by eternity against all the odds.
This article originally appeared in The Manor.