AUTUMN — MARCH | 85 GUESTS | THE CEDAR LAWN
Beneath the old Himalayan cedar, with ornamental pear trees encircling the lawn, white and green hydrangeas framed the couple as they exchanged vows and kissed. Kirsten wore a strapless satin gown, its structured bodice giving way to a sweeping skirt, with a chapel-length veil catching the afternoon light. Tulips, not roses, filled her bouquet, a quiet departure that suited the day’s understated elegance. Guests gathered beneath fringed umbrellas for drinks and canapés before moving into the Conservatory beneath its glass roof and gilded chandelier. Later, she changed into lace for their first dance within the Ballroom’s soft blue walls. For all its grand and considered beauty, the day held a simpler meaning: choosing each other in front of the people who had been there all along and being held in their love as they stepped into the life they would make together.
