Last year, I walked up the marble staircase of the mairie in a romantic ballgown—hair in soft waves, heart full, followed by an intimate ceremony of family, and friends in “le village Castellet”. Le village Castellet is a neighboring village where my husband’s family is rooted, and a good friend/restaurateur (of La Farigoule,) offered to host our reception dinner. It was a picture perfect day.

Now, we’re prepping for Wedding No. 2: a barefoot, joy-soaked beach ceremony just a few kilometers from our vineyard home.

Think wind in our hair, wine in our hands, and sand between our newlywed toes.

You’d think I’d be in full-on bridal mode. And I am… mostly.

But beneath the Pinterest-worthy beach vibes, I’m sitting with something real: the expectation gap.

My husband has been quietly (and not-so-quietly) hoping that my American family will attend this second ceremony. For him, it’s not just about celebration—it’s about connection, closure, merging lives in full. 

But if you’ve ever coordinated international travel with ageing parents or caretaking relatives, you already know…

 Hope doesn’t always come with a passport stamp.

My father, while endlessly supportive in spirit, is juggling hearing loss and the exhausting, full-time role of caring for my autistic uncle. The idea of flying across the Atlantic for the first time, through summer crowds and airline chaos, feels as likely as him joining a TikTok dance challenge.

And as much as I wish things were different, I’ve learned to manage my expectations instead of over-managing theirs.

The Dress That Changed Everything

Originally, I planned to reuse my gown from our civil ceremony. Not because I’m not a romantic—but because I’m a **midlife realist** with enough hormone swings and hot flashes to keep things spicy.

Buying a new dress, with the body I’m still learning to love again? That felt like inviting my insecurities to the wedding.

Then came Cathy

An old friend of my husband’s, a couturière in nearby Toulon, offered to create a custom dress as a wedding gift. At-cost. No pressure. Just joy.

At first, I hesitated. The idea of standing half-naked under hot lights being measured? Not exactly my dream day.

But then I saw the fabric. Then the sketch. Then Cathy’s enthusiasm.

Suddenly, I could see it. Me. Blushing. Not just in theory, but in full bloom.

I’m still dealing with my body (aren’t we all?), but I’m also remembering that romance is allowed at every age, every size, every temperature.

So yes, the countdown is on.

Some things will go beautifully.

Others will go off-script.

And that’s the beauty of rewriting your life from scratch.

If nothing else, I’ll be *married, barefoot, and glowing in a dress made with love.

And maybe that’s all a girl really needs.

Big love,

Thembi

NYCgurlxpat | Notes to Self from the French Side