The bride wore a 1950s-style dress with antique brooch detail and vintage red leather heels. The groom complimented her with a grey morning suit and red silk tie. Bouquets and boutonnieres displayed a selection of blue wildflowers at the landmark Georgian venue. Afterwards guests enjoyed a wedding brunch of eggs benedict and specialty cocktails, Persian love cake and champagne.

This was my wedding. The total cost? About 250 quid. It was no surprise to me when I read about the rise of the micro micro wedding. That’s not a typo, the micro wedding, which is apparently 50 guests or less, has given way in popularity to the micro micro wedding - involving just a handful of guests. One of the reasons I knew that I would marry my husband is because when he proposed to me after we rode motorbikes to the top of a mountain pass in Vietnam, I knew he would not press me to have a big fat Scottish wedding. I'm an introvert and cannot imagine anything worse than standing in front of a crowd of people during one of the most intimate and important moments of my life, even if that crowd comprises my loved ones. A true Scot, I’m thrifty/tight and I can't imagine anything less celebratory than spending tens of thousands of pounds on a single day when you might use that money to travel or lay the foundations for your future.

We got married in the smallest room in Liverpool’s beautiful town hall for the princely sum of £50. It was only just big enough for me, my husband, two witnesses, an officiant and the photographer. We were predictably late - I had a deadline that morning - and arrived after our witnesses, sweating, holding Tupperware with boutonnieres and the Persian love cake we’d made ourselves the night before. My dress was £25 and though it wasn’t an heirloom piece and needed a few emergency alterations, I felt beautiful. Indeed, the whole day was absolutely perfect. After the ceremony we took the train for a night by the sea in Wales sharing slices of cake and little paper cups of champagne with our fellow passengers who joined in the celebration.

With the average wedding now costing up to £30,000, half the price of a small house in some parts of the UK, and a cost of living crisis which shows no signs of slowing down, extravagant weddings seem even more insane to me. And it seems I'm not alone in this as micro micro weddings are more in demand. Indeed, Gretna Green saw a 20% rise in elopements after Covid.

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I should say our wedding was perfect for us. I might be biased of course, but this year on our five-year anniversary our photographer wrote out of the blue to say that he still tells people our wedding "stands out in memory as one of the cutest and most sincere".

There were times when I wondered if I budgeted a step too far when I found myself in the roughest part of Liverpool, in a beauty salon called Sunset Boulevard, wielding my Wowcher for bargain eyelash extension or when we were lugging our vintage suitcase past the Thursday afternoon shoppers of Poundland and Primark in full wedding regalia to catch our honeymoon train. But mostly what I remember is the intimacy, warmth, sweetness and, most of all, the peace of that day.

Because of course, big weddings can also be terrifically stressful, even for extroverts and those who love to be the centre of attention. There's no way the pressure and expectation of spending that much money on a "once in a lifetime" day with so many guests and moving parts cannot be stressful.

It's also no surprise to me that the Marriage Foundation data last year revealed that those who keep their weddings on the modest side are less likely to end up divorcing. According to their studies, one in 10 marriages with a budget of over £20,000 broke down within three years. Perhaps this is because the couple begin burdened with debt or perhaps one or both of them are more likely to be caught up in the idea of a perfect wedding followed by a perfect relationship. Then, the notoriously tough first year of marriage must be a hard bump to reality.

Want the wedding recipe for success? The Marriage Foundation’s research suggests that the ideal is a big and cheap wedding. And it does make sense that making that commitment in front of everyone you know might solidify it.

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Perhaps my friend Levia did it just right. She bought everything at a discount or second-hand. Her husband worked for English Heritage at the time and so they were given a beautiful venue at a fraction of the price. In total their very big wedding including four bridesmaids, three-course meal and double-decker bus, cost around £6,000. I still think this is a huge amount of money and more than I'd want to spend. But my friend is an extrovert who celebrates even the smallest occasion with a huge party and an even bigger frock. She would never have felt properly married without the bells and whistles, confetti or heart-shaped bubble blowers during her first dance. It seems to have worked for them, they’re twelve years very happily married.

Of course, I'm not saying that people shouldn't drop a big old load of cash on their wedding if they want. But only if it will make you happy. If that is truly reflective of your relationship and, most importantly, if it is what both of you want. Imagine going into your marriage locking horns over fripperies like centrepieces, chocolate fountains and whether second cousin Shona can bring her new boyfriend before you’ve even said "I do". If I had my time over again, would I spend more, knowing what I know now? I don't think so. Though I might have paid an extra fiver for a dress that I didn’t have to sellotape to my boobs in the taxi.