Amy Adams’ makeup artist read my mind

Amy Adams' makeup artist read my mind.

Amy Adams’ makeup artist read my mind.

Have you ever been confronted by something you couldn’t define but understood intuitively? Maybe it was the first time you used an iPod or Legos. Maybe it’s the complex taste of sushi or a Buddhist mantra. Sometimes this happens with job titles, which is both ridiculous and delightful.

Fire example, our wedding photographer has an employee with the job title “Client Experience Curator.” I have no idea what this person’s job duties consisted of before speaking with him, but I intuitively knew exactly what his job is, its essence. His job is to make sure everything that’s in my photographer’s control is precise, on brand (ha!), and not sullied by missing any details or MIA family members or uncooperative weather. The Client Experience Curator’s job to help me feel even better about the thousands of dollars his employer charges for a few hours of his life (and mine). His job is to princess me. Obviously I really like having a Client Experience Curator.
My first interaction with him was through email. He sent my fiancé and me a shot list template and strongly worded “suggestions” about how we should structure it. Some people might have been annoyed by these strictures, but I actually appreciate it when someone gives me some rules. This way I have guidelines, which means I can make an informed decision when I decide to disregard them. Plus, if you only break one or two rules instead of ignoring suggestions altogether, your obstreperousness will have more impact. This is important to remember when have bridal meltdowns.

Our phone call with the Client Experience Curator lasted a lot longer than I was expecting. I warned him repeatedly about the landlines our photographer was likely to encounter, and he repeatedly assured me that our photog was an expert in fending off overeager family members and panicking brides. I started to wonder how he knew this, considering he’s only been working for the company for less than a year. But I chose to believe him, because it relieved my anxiety about, well, everything just a tiny bit.

We’re now four weeks out from the wedding, and my anxiousness is starting to turn into excitement. We’ve been planning this thing since August – that’s 10-1/2 months of obsessing, stressing, poring over wedding magazines, and fretting about tan lines and wrinkles. I’ve never felt so self-conscious about my appearance in my entire life. I’m not gonna let myself go after the wedding or anything, but it sure will be nice not to have to curate my experiences anymore, even if it is nice for one day.

I’ve written before about how “the most important day of your life” probably isn’t the most important day in the grand scheme of things – I’m guessing the birth of children, finding out you’re cancer-free, and other such life-altering events have similar or greater impact – but it is significant and you want it to be as close to perfect as possible. Of course, my flower girl’s dress is now a little tight on her due to a growth spurt, our ring bearer is 2-1/2 and could freeze up, or our DJ could mispronounce our names, and I parted ways with my makeup artists last week and hired another one after only ten minutes of research because I panicked and she was available, confident in my theory that truly professional makeup artists will be more reliable and easier to work with. Whatever happens, in the grand scheme of things, I’m sure we’ll be able to laugh it off. After all, we do have people who are being paid to watch our backs. Nice, isn’t it?


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