Confessions of a Celebrant

Claire Vickery - Professional Celebrant
5 hours ago
3 min read

People sometimes think my job is turning up on the day in a cute outfit, saying a few words, and then floating off for a glass of bubbly.

Here’s the truth: being a celebrant is equal parts heart, graft, waterproof mascara…and a lot of late-night Pot Noodles eaten over my keyboard.

So, here are a few confessions from the other side of the script.

Confession 1: Sometimes it’s chaos before it’s magic

Magda & Pippa’s wedding holds the record for my fastest turnaround ever – just eleven days from “hello” to “here come the brides.” I barely came up for air. There were running orders flying, handfasting cords to source, props arriving on my doorstep, and me mainlining tea while my printer steamed and glowered threateningly at me.

But here’s the thing: on the day, no one saw the chaos. What they saw was calm, love, and a celebration that felt like it had been in the making for eons.

That’s the magic trick – take what looks like a crazy idea and make it the seamless, centrepiece talking point that everyone remembers.

Confession 2: It takes a village (and sometimes outrageous flirting)

At the other end of the scale, some ceremonies take months of planning and feel more like staging a theatre production.

Logan & Emily’s steampunk wedding springs to mind – a glorious whirlwind of handfasting, unity candle, telegram suitcase, secret vows, wish cogs on every chair, and even a Fantastic Beasts-style prop case. There were kittens in the stories, an Imperial Death March for the groom’s entrance, and a final song of Life Eternal by Ghost.

From the outside, it looked seamless. From my side, I was conducting an orchestra made of cogs, candles, ribbons and telegrams. And sometimes, to make those never-done-before touches happen, yes – I’ve been known to indulge in a little outrageous flirting with venue managers to get that special ask over the line.

Confession 3: Yes, I cry too (and sometimes swear)

I practice names and places over and over so I don’t trip in the moment. I triple-check music cues. I re-read vows until I know their rhythm by heart. And still – I cry.

I’ve been caught out by a single phrase in a Love Story (“You’re my happy place”), or when a family told me afterwards that people thought I must have been a personal friend because the Story of Life sounded so accurate.

And then there are the families who’ve asked me to drop the f-bomb – even the c-bomb – mid-ceremony, because that’s exactly what their person would have wanted. You can bet I did it, with relish.

Sometimes, afterwards, someone takes my hand and says, “We’ll miss you.” That’s when I know I’ve done my job.

Confession 4: It’s not glamorous, but it’s glorious

Being a celebrant isn’t glamorous. It’s spreadsheets, waterproof mascara, late-night Pot Noodles, and occasionally smuggling props into a crem chapel. It’s also turning up in “girl’s shoes” and muttering under my breath about missing my trainers.

But it’s also couples daring to do it their way – whether that’s a sand ceremony layered with meaning, dog ring bearers trotting proudly up the aisle, or a grandmother stealing the show as the surprise octogenarian ring bearer. It’s families raising a toast with miniatures of whiskey at a Committal, a coffin led up the crem drive in a digger, or a loved one accompanied by their favourite jazz band.

Every single time, it’s about creating a ceremony that feels like it couldn’t belong to anyone else.

Final Confession: The heels never last

The heels never survive the journey home. The second I’m back in the car, off they come and on go my battered old Converse. Posh frock, trainers, and a very relieved celebrant – it’s a strong look, and I rock it proudly.