As far as I can tell the evolution to becoming an adult woman is as follows: Learn to walk, learn to talk, learn to learn, learn to love, learn to love home appliances and furniture like it’s your own flesh and blood, learn to deal with menopause.
I can distinctly remember nothing worse than walking around Crate & Barrel with my parents. These solemn excursions happened often, yet because there were no free-roaming Backstreet Boys in this unfortunate C&B, it was therefore useless to me as a thirteen-year-old. What is a “decanter”? What do you mean “curtain panels”? A sconce? I don’t take Latin. It was all Greek to me, particularly the vast selection of urns. I don’t know exactly when we ladies blossom into Throw Pillow Ninjas but it happens swiftly and silently and there’s no turning back.
Creating an amazing space to call home is—and should be—a joyous process. There are days I’ve gone into not one, but two Crate & Barrels, its younger company CB2, a Cost Plus World Market, Bed Bath & Beyond, The Container Store and looked at every single item on Amazon.com’s home section. And that’s just before lunch. I love a decorative bar tray as much as the next girl, but this housewares obsession is starting to evolve into a new beast that I just can’t fully get behind: The wedding registry.
The wedding registry isn’t a new thing by any means. Generations upon generations have waited for their moment to ask their closest friends and family for a tea set or china or proper bedding. Perhaps my view of this sacred shopping list is over-thought and plates are a perfectly normal thing to ask your BFFs to buy you. But as the people closest to me embark on a life of love with their eternal partner by sending the links to their most desired selection of goods, it becomes as clear as a Vintage Inspired Aluminum Trim Acrylic Mod Locker: How well can I really know a person, a person whom I thought I knew like the back of my hand, who has a strong affinity for a 3-in-1 Egg Slicer? I get it. It’s cheap. What’s the big deal? I should just buy it for them since they asked for it after all. Santa never countered my Christmas list with “Well that’s a silly thing to ask for considering you could ask for anything.” Although to be fair, I am half Jewish so who knows what Santa really felt. I never did get that Barbie Jeep.
Which brings me to my main point: If we have the opportunity to register for anything we want, why are we wasting our list space with egg slicers, my friends? Sure, the towels and the plates are safe and often inexpensive, I understand. That extended family who hasn’t seen you since you were 14 would LOVE to contribute to your cabinets. When I see those dinner plates, all I think is how our friendship is so much more. Buying you towels make me feel a little weird that they’ll be all over your wet body, since, well, that’s not the kind of friendship we have and you’re getting married for goodness sake! For every ceramic white choice, both literally and metaphorically, I try to look for the Cool item, the Fun item, the ‘We Probably Won’t Get This’ item. I scan those registries for the most awesome item I can find/afford. And if I can’t find it in the bed or the bath then I’m going to the beyond. Not even the Container Store could wrangle the creativity flowing in my gift-giving brain department. . .This MOH is going DIY.
I can feel the brides’ eyes getting nervous. But I actually like that 3-In-1 Egg Slicer! I hate manually slicing eggs! I understand. I am a good friend. Which is why I will get you that egg slicer even though I don’t know that the other two parts of the 3-in-1 are. But that egg slicer is under $20 and you mean more to me that $20! So now, am I supposed to get you a 3-In-1 Egg Slicer and a random other thing? What goes with Egg Slicers? You didn’t register for a Cucumber Slicer! That would’ve at least been along the same slicey theme. I guess I could go with the Knife Sharpener Set. . . but then why do you need an Egg Slicer if you’ve got such sharp knives? Aye, there’s the rub. Oh great. Should I add the Gourmet BBQ Spice Rub set?
My instinct is to use your registry as merely a suggestion vision board. Sure you signed up for a wooden, rectangular cutting board, but you’re no square! Wouldn’t you rather have a cutting board shaped like the state you both met in with a gold star in the first city you said I love you?
I see you’re jonesing for a serious amount of stemware and, since I’ll be the one at your humble abode drinking out of said stemware, I know we’ll end up playing games or like, usual, wish we had games to play. Wouldn’t it be fun if Nana and Grampy gave you the Crystal Martini Glasses and I set you up with a whole basket of Game Night essentials so we can finally find out how bad we are at playing Settlers of Catan?
A pasta maker, you say! I’ve known you for fifteen years and have never seen you hand-make pasta ever and I don’t think it’s for lack of a proper pasta maker. BUT, I know that that pasta maker is just a place holder until you can get your tush over to Italy for your honeymoon with your new sweetheart. . . so here’s a guidebook to Italy and a RailEurope gift card to jumpstart your vacay. Think of me when the love of your life uses their nose to slide a meatball onto your side of the spaghetti.
All I’m asking is this: Instead of a spatula, I want to see someone take advantage of legitimately asking for a $400 robot that vacuums their living room while they’re out hanging with the ladies. Instead of a vase, I encourage you to request an awesome SLR Camera that can capture memories without using all your cellular data. And to those of you who aren’t engaged or planning on getting married any time soon or at all, I implore you to engage instead in the utter enjoyment of creating your ultimate wish list and sending it to everyone you know just in case someone was looking for an excuse to snag you a little somethin’ somethin’. Who knows, you may end up with the camping gear you’ve always wanted.
Either that, or you’ll get some really great plates.