r.i.p. damask

I'm not sure when, but at some point in this design adventure we're calling My Wedding, I stumbled across a print known as "damask". Now, if you've never heard of damask, you're not alone (neither had I two months ago...). If you have heard of it, you're probably (1) engaged; (2) married; (3) a wedding planner; or (4) been sucked into the abyss of a "Whose Wedding is it Anyway?" marathon. Anyway, that black-and-white swirly print in the photo above is what the billion dollar wedding industry calls damask.

Fairly soon after stumbling across this product of Damascus (seriously, it is - I looked it up), I decided that it totally worked with my black-white-and-green color scheme, and therefore, I had to have it. My Wedding Planner furiously began finding all-things-damask (frames, linens, small children wrapped in fabric, etc.) Merrily we went on our way, creating the vision of My Wedding with what-I-envisioned-to-be classy little damask accents to and fro.

Till last night anyway. When The Fiancé came home to a dining room table littered with Save the Date ideas - only one of which was damask. Guess which one he said, "Absolutely no" to? Mmm hmm. The damask one (oh, and the damask fabric swatch and the damask picture frame My Wedding Planner had sent along as inspiration...). And the funny thing? I actually felt relieved. After all the photos and ideas of beautiful damask things, I realized that I had been trying really hard to love damask. I had. But, well, it's damask. And if you know me... I. am. not. damask.

When I called my mother this morning to discuss Save the Dates (seriously, some mornings I wonder what happened to my formerly illustrious life), she seemed quite pleased with the summary elimination of all-things-damask. Apparently she was not a fan either. Here I had been, floating on my little damask-covered-island, with no one to tell me I didn't quite fit in. Thank heavens The Fiancé has no self-censor. His "absolutely no" burst from his mouth before the thought "maybe she really likes it" even crossed his mind. Thanks, Honey.

So, today, we bow our heads and take a moment to remember My Wedding that never was: the damask one. R.I.P. Damask.