Money, Cash, Clothes

Earlier this week, my fiancé Andrew and I sat down to talk turkey about our wedding budget: how much were we willing to spend, and how much were we willing to save? We decided to skim a few extra dollars off of each paycheck and start pooling together our funds for the type of big, bad-ass wedding we wanted. Not to mean we'd be eating cans of beans and ramen noodles for the next year and a half, or siphoning gas from strangers' cars at the pumping station when they weren't looking just to save a buck. But we'd definitely have to be more aware of where our money was going week to week, and err on the side of saving when it came down to potentially frivolous purchases.

I consider myself a pretty sensible spender to begin with. I'm not big on splurging, but I'm not a penny pincher either. I'll buy several rounds of shots when I go out, but then I'll spend the next few nights staying in and watching movies. I don't go to Ted Gibson to get my hair cut -- whoever's free at my local salon is just fine. And although I tend to pick up a lot of items in a store, I edit down my final purchases in line and by the time I get to the checkout counter, I've usually whittled the total to mostly "need-its" and maybe a "want-it" or two in the mix.

But then Nordstrom happened. And not just any Nordstrom, but Nordstrom Rack, where one is lured into the false sense of frugality through "discount designer" syndrome. A $400 pair of Cole Haan boots, even at an alluring 50% off, is still going to cost you $200. Like a gastric bypass patient who walks into McDonald's and swears they're just going to order a salad, I fell off our new budget wagon. Hard.

But it was my money, right? So no harm no foul. Or so I thought.

Perhaps 3 weeks ago that argument would stand. But what I realized when I got home and dropped my bags filled with $600-worth of fall fashion just inside the door was that, when budgeting in coordination with someone else, my big splurge was actually also Andrew's big splurge. For the money I hadn't planned to take out of my own account, I'd have to budget elsewhere. With a debit purchase, that means less cash-on-hand for other more necessary monthly expenditures. With credit, that means the money that I'd planned on putting towards our wedding will now go towards paying off my bill or, if not paid in full, rack up even more debt next month from interest.

We try our best to alternate who pays when we go out, but Andrew will likely foot the bill a bit more often this month. When it's my turn to buy our groceries, I'm sure my list will look slightly shorter than usual. Fewer date nights, less driving of my car and more driving of his, less slush money for an unscheduled weekend excursion to the Renaissance Fair or for tolls up to see his friends and family in New Jersey. Andrew's budget is going to take a hit to make up for a dollar here and a dollar there that I just can't pay.

Every wedding magazine I've bought has a section on managing your wedding budget, including charts and spread sheets, suggested percentages for expenditures on food and decor, and what to do if you overspend on one expense to avoid throwing the budget for others off-kilter. But I've yet to see anything about managing your own finances in order to keep to said wedding budget. Where is the Smart Girl's Guide to Saying No to the Peep-toes So You Can Say Yes to the Dress?

The toughest part of saving up for something so far in advance is remembering that your budgeting decisions, even with your own money, will affect your better half and his ability to budget as well -- a very expensive lesson learned only 15 minutes after the swipe of my card. Does that mean I'll run back to Nordstrom and return some, if not all, of the things I bought? I'll sleep on it, but it might be more dangerous sending me back into the field. But with 19 more months of budgeting ahead of me, it's the kind of indiscretion I can't afford to keep making.