The Wedding Planner // H.S.

best part about living in London

The best part about living in London is getting to tell everyone that you live in London; the way their faces light up when they see that mental picture in their head of the glorious skyline, the nightlife, the culture, the accents, and, occasionally, the celebrities.

What people don't picture about a luxurious London lifestyle is a tiny red brick office building tucked into the corner of a street almost forgotten by the rest of the city, which is where I have the pleasure of hanging out eight hours each day. I was never really keen on staying home once I graduated from college- New York felt more like a prison to me than a city, so I chose London instead, even if most people warned me against it.

Truth is, I like London, even though at times it feels like it's closing in on me. While it's full of opportunity, it also feels like it's trying to break you, trying to make you feel like you need to be a certain way to get anywhere.

But, I like my job. Being a wedding planner was a dream of mine from the beginning. I love weddings, and as a child I thought- why only plan one wedding when you could plan countless and make it a career? I loved the idea of feeling like I could throw big parties for a living and get away with it. So, I decided to follow my heart and pursue a career that has lead me to be sitting here, in a desk, in this tiny building on a Saturday night in London.

Why do I work Saturday nights? Good question. My Dad once told me that the most successful workers are shaped by three things: a strong will, good character, and no days off. When I told him I was going to be moving to London to be a wedding planner, he laughed in my face and practically told me I was going to fail. But, I looked him dead in the eye and said, "And if I fail does it automatically mean I'm a failure, or just that life is challenging me? I think failure is subjective, Dad. It's relative to the person who's facing it. What you might see as failure, I see as opportunity."

Then, I slammed my whiskey glass down beside him and walked out of the house. I knew that he would never approve of what I did, but I know that in that moment, when I challenged him on everything he stood for, he was proud, even if he never admits it.

My parents are divorced, and my Mom is a surgeon at Lennox Hill Hospital in New York. Her and my Dad are two very different people, which is why I was always confused as to why they married each other. My Mom, a surgeon, and my dad, a Wall Street business man, who met each other at NYU, fell in love for a whopping three years before tying the knot. Four years into their marriage, right after my first birthday, my Mom filed for divorce. She told me she believed it would be easier raising me on her own rather than with a man who spent more hours sleeping in his office than beside her.

But I always respected my Dad. He worked hard, and while he may be emotionally complicated, he had always been dedicated. I was raised by my Mom, but I saw my Dad every Sunday for the afternoon. During that time, he'd take me out for ice cream and tell me that if I work hard, I could be successful like him.

So, the day I told him I was following my dreams, he assumed I would fail because of personal bias and not enough supported research. But, at the same time, he knew I would succeed because failure, to me, looked different. Failure to him meant the end of the road. Failure, to me, meant the end of one road and the start of a new one.

"Evelynn O'Connor, get your ass in here." My co-worker Jack called out to me as soon as he walked into the office. I walked away from my desk and met my charming and rather attractive British friend in the waiting room. Jack wasn't exactly my assistant, but more of a business partner. I learned in school that it's always good to have a male working in your office so he can offer input on wedding decisions. Jack was a business student at a local University, and his part time work at my office was paying him much more than a job at McDonalds. It also helped that he wasn't hard to look at.