It was more like an elopement than a wedding. Except that it wasn’t much of a secret to the chosen few trusted with the deets. The bride’s family was there — half IRL and half online. The groom’s was somewhere in France, probably drinking pastis as a toast to the couple who finally decided to get hitched in the most practical of ways.

It was definitely my kind of wedding.

“Hey Jeff, if we ever get married again, let’s do it like this, okay?” I sprung on him while the bride and groom were taken in a separate room by the wedding celebrant who probably grilled them both — FBI style — if they knew what the hell they were getting into legally.

“Why do you even wanna get married again?!” he replied.

Fair enough.

It was a purely hypothetical question that warranted an answer as blunt as the one he gave. I mean, you have to be a bit psycho if you wanna go through that sort of headache. Again.

But.

I’m just saying. My sister’s wedding was my kind of wedding. It was quicker than a KFC drive thru. Totally hassle-free.

With the budget tight and the guest limits tighter, we all had our roles to play: Jeff was the official photographer/videographer/witness. I was the backup photographer/FB Messenger videocall coordinator/witness. Raven was the ring bearer. My mom was the metaphorical tribe elder.

Call time was at bloody 9am. While the rest of Melbourne were commuting to work on that chilly Friday morning, we were making our way to the Old Treasury Building to marry off my sister.

Like, surely, they could’ve picked a later spot!

But it all worked out perfectly, time-wise. Because after the ceremony and the photo shoot where the newlyweds were coaxed into cliché poses and smooch shots much to the cringe of my anti-PDA sister (photos on that will be blogged next, God-willing), we had just enough time to travel to South Yarra for the lunch reception.

There was no colour motif but suddenly there was. By utter cosmic synchronicity, my mom, Raven, and I unintentionally wore different shades of pink to the event. I didn’t even notice the accidental colour coordination until my sister mentioned it.

Guess we all passed the vibe check.

*Raven at 8 years old