As a 38-year-old woman in a 13-year relationship, with countless friends’ nuptials and a four-year stint as the editor of a wedding brand under my belt, you’d think I’d have had my dream big day mentally planned out a long time ago. In reality, visions of exchanging vows backdropped by tropical beaches, Vegas chapels or elegant châteaux had all flitted through my mind at various points over the years, each fantasy conjuring a different version of myself and the outfit I’d be wearing (lace for the beach, tailoring for the chapel, chiffon for the châteaux, since you asked).

But when my now husband, Simon, popped the question one evening over cocktails in Claridge’s, I knew instantly that I wanted a wedding in keeping with my perfect proposal: elegant, intimate and unmistakably us. And with

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