CRIMSOM AND CATHEDRAL LIGHT | SPRING - OCTOBER | 72 GUESTS | THE GOVERNOR’S LAWN
Two towering columns of deep crimson — blooms of celosia, garden roses, and velvet anthurium — framed their vows beneath the ancient fig on the Governor's Lawn, as rose petals in red and ivory fell like confetti from the hands of those they love most. She arrived in duchesse satin, strapless and sweeping, her lace-edged cathedral veil lifting gently in the afternoon air; he waited in black tie, a cluster of burgundy hydrangea at his lapel and quiet emotion written plainly across his face. Inside the weathered timber of the barn, a crystal chandelier cast its amber warmth over stolen moments between ceremony and supper. The Conservatory, dressed in billowing ivory fabric that pooled and swelled above a gilded antique chandelier, held long tables set with candlelight and single-stem roses — a grand piano anchoring the far end of the room. Silver candelabras flanked a pavlova crowned with raspberries, the bouquet of calla lilies and trailing amaranth nearby, two wedding bands quietly gleaming against the stems. Their night ended as it began — joyfully, without restraint — running through a corridor of sparklers into the dark, already laughing.
