Too many weddings, too little time

KARACHI:

Inside the banquet hall, chaos reigns supreme. Crowds decked out in elaborate finery clamour for a photo with the newlyweds. The buzz of 400 people packing away biryani and korma is just slightly overpowered by the DJ's blaring Bollywood playlist and the relentless hum of a drone circling above.

Step outside, and the scene doesn't get any calmer. Cars are gridlocked in a standoff on the street, each one headed to a different wedding across the sprawling maze of banquet halls, where three functions are happening simultaneously. This is Decemberistan.

While most of the world operates on four seasons, Pakistan lives by five: Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, and wedding season. If you're in Karachi – it's just Summer and wedding season. But don't let the name fool you. Decemberistan isn't confined to December. It stretches from November to February, when the weather is finally cool enough to avoid sweat stains ruining expensive silk outfits people commissioned just for the occasion, or makeup melting off mid-mehndi. It's also when expats flock home for Christmas break, making dinner reservations impossible and evening traffic even more of a nightmare.

At its core, Pakistani wedding season is less about perfection and more about embracing the chaos, which is what makes for great stories. And when it's all over you can enjoy the peace and quiet of February – or suffer from crippling post-event blues. Regardless, whether you're a local resident or part of the great overseas return, navigating this social season requires some planning.

One invitation, six obligations

A typical Pakistani wedding is not a single event. It's an endless procession of them. If you're considered "close family and friends," brace yourself for six (or more) back-to-back events: the engagement, which, if you're lucky, happened months ago; the mayoon; the nikkah; the mehndi; the reception; and finally, the valima. And don't forget the countless dinners hosted by every relative eager to show off the new couple. Then, of course, there are the dance practices. Nights of perfecting synchronised moves that inevitably blur into one chaotic routine whilst also suppressing the ever-escalating urge to strangle the choreographer who insists you just need to "let go" and be more "flexible".

Balancing wedding season with a full-time job and family obligations is no joke. The key is planning ahead. If lists are your thing, now's the time to bring forth your inner Type-A personality. There's nothing better than the visual treat of looking at a perfectly calligraphed list of dates and events aligned with checkboxes. One of the great things about Decemberistan is that because everyone is getting married within a six-to-eight-week window, they are all racing to send out their invites first. A clash of events is inevitable but a horror just the same. The good thing is you'll have your invites months in advance.

List down your events in order of dates, and if you're a fiend for the lists like me, you can colour code weddings so that you don't get confused. This allows for you to book your salon appointments in advance as well. You may also want to keep your nights free for at least two weeks before the wedding. This is when dholkis, dinners, and emergency dance rehearsals will rear their heads.

No outfit, no problem

If you're in the wedding party, you probably had your joras chosen, stitched, and steam ironed weeks ago. But if you're a guest who hasn't had time to even learn the name of the groom who is marrying your Khala's sister in law's daughter much less figure out clothing, you're in for a tougher time. Forget about last-minute designer orders unless you've got family connections or powers of compulsion. They have way too many orders in backlog and a lot of them don't even reach customers in time for their event. But this is because Pakistani wedding outfits aren't just simple drapes of fabric – they're elaborate creations, often embroidered with "haath ka kaam" that require months of work from karigars.

For a wedding in mid December, I was told that I should have been at the designer's boutique in October at the latest. The best practice is to always have joras ready in advance. Commission a lehenga choli or a Peshwaz or whatever your heart desires during off peak months in the summer so that you or the designer don't have to worry about a time crunch.

If you've just realised you have nothing to wear and have gone into a state of fashion paralysis, it may be time for a trip to the trusty old Ashiana and Gulf markets. But those narrow corridors won't be easy to navigate during the season either. Grab some jamawar fabric, a few rolls of lace, pre-embroidered borders and you've got yourself a last minute lehenga choli. Or at least a deconstructed one. For its construction you will have to head over to the trusted family tailor who will probably be the only one to indulge your outlandish mission to get something stitched last minute. You offer to pay him extra, threaten him, or he does it out of the goodness of his heart – whatever the reason, he'll deliver your outfit on time, and you'll finally be able to unclench that jaw.

The nitty-gritties

If your jewellery collection isn't up to par, fear not. This is what mothers and grandmothers are for. I am convinced there is no greater joy for a grandmother than to force her jewels onto her granddaughter. My own practically throws her rings at me every time we make eye contact.

Keep in mind that venues are usually overcrowded, and that means tripping over other people's unusually long trains. And those pesky carpets that I'm convinced wedding planners precariously place in order to trip guests for their own amusement. It's also likely that there is so much traffic near the entrance of the venue that you will have to get out of the car and walk. That's why comfortable shoes are a must. Opt for embellished flats or wedges that will give you height yet won't leave you limping by the end of the night. Yes, heels are tempting – but no one will see your feet under all that fabric anyway.