From Issue 107 — Bait and Switch
Hi. My name is Jenny Joungblood-Kerekes and I’m an ex-event planner and ex-grant writer writing a story about planning my own wedding. The pictures are perfect, but the wedding was far from what I thought my “picture perfect wedding” would be.
I was never the girl that planned their wedding since they were little. A few friends and cousins hoarded wedding magazines, but my young eyes were more drawn to the National Enquirer headlines about Jon Benet Ramsey and Doris Day at the grocery checkout aisle. So, when I realized my grandparents’ anniversary fell on a Saturday in April 2025, I started planning the wedding of my adult dreams: our closest friends and family split up into two Rolls Royce limos for a luxury, leisurely drive to City Hall. And the first person I called was my photographer: editor-in-chief, Aleks Karjaka.
Picture this (as I said to Aleks): a small caravan of limos strolling through the city with well-dressed “wedding guests” inside.
Who? VIPs to me, the bride. First on the list would be the groom, Paul Kerekes. Next, my parents, Paul’s parents, my siblings, his brother and sister-in law. Paul’s niece and nephew – a built in flower girl and ring bearer. The aunt and uncle of Paul’s who were the closest to me and the aunt and uncle of mine closest to Paul. In addition, the two closest members of our urban tribe. That, plus Aleks, made a cozy selection of special guests spread across two limos.
Where? Photo destinations where fashion photographer Karjaka would follow us around taking pictures. Our New York City rooftop would serve as the first photo op. Next, the nearby New York Conservatory Garden that feels like Central Park’s own secret garden. Other destinations like Grand Central station, because that’s where I’d drag my “mobile library” of books to and from New Haven to visit Paul at Yale. We wouldn’t be the first to stage a small fashion flash mob in Grand Central. The final stop would be the courthouse for a small ceremony followed by a decadent celebratory meal.
Why? I was an older bride with a very small family. This reinvented wedding felt like the perfect solution.
How? Somehow convince our parents that this little ritual could pass for a proper wedding. I thought it did. Especially since Aleks would be there to create a proper wedding album.
“Paparazzi!” Aleks described it. He got the whole concept in one word.
Aleks was in. I got a real photographer to shoot my “wedding”. I almost couldn’t blame him since if Alek’s photography were a wedding, it just might be my deconstructed wedding on wheels. Little did he know that just over a month before 4/12/25 I’d call him to let him know it was an accidental bait and switch.
What happened? Well, we told my grand plan to our families. They didn’t get it. That’s always a risk with my grand ideas. They thought of it as more of a “glorified courthouse wedding”. They weren’t wrong, I suppose. Also, they were particularly concerned about the disappointment of the extended family that had been waiting 15 years for us to get married. Maybe selecting two limos worth of our family and friends was risky.
So instead, the wedding was now for a little over 100 people and would be held at the groom’s family Country Club. Although I could’ve given Aleks more notice, I couldn’t bear to. The same way I couldn’t bear to send out invites, pick out the menu, hire a DJ and florists and order a wedding cake. I had already designed a pared down dress with talented designer Bessie Besana (@bessiebesana) who quickly whipped up a dramatic overskirt to camouflage my courthouse chic wedding dress.
I cried. For once, I thought this day and this event was mine. Isn’t that what all bridezillas say? THIS IS MY SPECIAL DAY. I prepared to fight for my cause until my fiancé chimed in that he too would miss seeing his family all together. Now I was in a bind because, of course, I had to consider his opinion. If I were to share “my” day with anyone, surely it would be my future husband. It’s his day too. So as always, I accepted that my creative ideas might not be best for everyone. Maybe we needed to invite his family.
Family was never a big part of my life. Mine is small, fractured, and my favorite aunt didn’t even come to the wedding because of political reasons. But I figured Paul’s family would at least come and dance themselves silly. There was something to say for that, no matter how embarrassingly small I feared my side of the aisle would be.
Now that the plans had changed, my momentum was dead in the water. We were engaged in October with intentions to marry April 12, 2025. Since the event felt like it was no longer mine, it took me until January of 2025 to find the exact printer who could do the invites as I had envisioned them: copper foil stamped kraft paper. They were sent mid-February and not before plenty of questions about whether the wedding would even be taking place.
The venue manager at the Old Field Club was asking the same thing. My parents and the groom’s were asking too. In a panic, I hired a wedding planner (@labellefete.nyc) and she had two months to make it happen.
I was kicking myself for not sticking to my vision and allowing them to hijack “my day”. Sure, the wedding had touches of me at every turn like all events I plan. It was a smashing success. But it wasn’t mine. As it turns out, it was ours.
Something happened when I looked back at the photos. When I saw how much fun everyone had, it was all worth doing it for them. Imagine a world in which these photos and memories didn’t exist! Imagine a world where Paul’s father’s and mother’s side couldn’t celebrate a wedding and dance together one last time. And who knew I had a few dancing fools of my own on my side of the family.
And that’s when it dawned on me: a wedding is for your family. It’s for showing them your love and personality and giving them a place to visit and to eat, drink, and be merry wild animals together. Moreover, the parts of my family that did show up are the parts that I will now carry forward with me. I also gained one hell of a family and the reception was quite the induction. When I looked at these photos, they made me a believer in weddings and I would now go through all of it again for them.
Looking at the photos had such an impact on me that my thank you note to Aleks best captures the sentiment:
“We’re not looking at photos of our wedding – we’re looking through your lens at what feels more like a photographic study in the many small beautiful moments that a truly beautiful wedding make. But I’m realizing just how important what you did was because I’m gagging at all that went on while I was suffocating from corset-itis in the bridal suite. They all had so much fun and made so many memories as a family and you captured those memories for years to come. To know that you documented it for me to see leaves me that much more certain that the whole process was worth it from start to finish. After all, it did start with you. You were the only constant in the evolution of this wedding.”
The whole thing was ironic. It even rained. So, it’s only fitting that there was a story written about planning the event I didn’t want to plan. Because while the wedding was for them, this story will always be mine to tell. And it was picture perfect.
