I blew my financial savings and spent £50,000 on a spectacular wedding ceremony – then my husband left me after six months. I want I’d seen the massive crimson flag that our relationship wasn’t going to final: EVE SIMMONS

I recently considered splurging £1,000 on a buggy. That might sound like a lot of money, but you see, not all prams are created equal.

This high-tech design would allow me to both run and cycle (the buggy can clip on to a bike) with my seven-month-old baby. Anyone with young children will understand the impossible task of finding time for exercise. Unfortunately, with extortionate childcare costs and a cost-of-living crisis, my partner and I decided it wasn’t the most sensible financial decision.

But I can think of far more irresponsible ones. Like, for instance, the most extravagant spending period of my life: my wedding three-and-a-half years ago, when I practically threw away more than £50,000. It is always at times like this, when I am lusting after a particularly dear item, that the memories of that ludicrous day – and the financial regret attached to it – come flooding back.

It makes my stomach churn to think of what I could have spent that lump sum on instead. A deposit for my own home, a car I actually own, a nanny.

My recklessness would have been bad enough had our marriage lasted. But the sickening truth is we only survived six months. In fact, we didn’t even stay together long enough to receive a physical copy of our wedding album.

Regular readers may be familiar with my catastrophic break-up – when, in 2022, my partner of nine years left me out of nowhere, for reasons that still remain unclear. It was particularly baffling given the astonishing effort – and eye-watering amount of cash – that we’d invested in the wedding.

I shared a warning of sorts on my TikTok account recently; a series of photographs from the day showcasing the ‘special details’ we’d wasted money on. Don’t make the same mistake I did, was my message. Clearly the post hit a nerve. Within 24 hours, more than 40,000 people had viewed it. Today, it’s reached 1.7 million.

Hundreds of people left comments, voicing their two cents. The more money spent on a wedding, the shorter the marriage was a popular take. Others accused me of toxic materialism. Some brides-to-be just wanted to know where I bought my dress.

The dress in question marked the beginning of my splurge. I initially had just a couple of thousand in mind for my dress budget, but I made the stupid decision to visit a swanky central London boutique ‘just for fun’. There, I spotted a Kate Middleton-esque gown by the US designer Monique Lhuillier – costing £10,000.

My first mistake was trying it on; I have never felt so beautiful. Staring at the way the lace fell from my hips, my sensible budget suddenly felt stingy. I decided I should delve much further into my savings. But it wasn’t perfect; the train wasn’t long enough. I contacted celebrity dressmaker Emma Beaumont and asked if she’d make me a copy complete with the details I desired.

It was significantly cheaper than the original, priced around £5,500, but it involved regular 300-mile round trips to her studio in Yorkshire, which cost a fair whack in petrol.

Then there was the second dress – for dancing – by the London-based designer Galvan, costing another £100 (I rented it… it would have been around £600 to buy). The shoes had to be similar to the ones Sex And The City’s Carrie Bradshaw wears for her nuptials to Mr Big – Manolo Blahnik pumps, which are around £800. Thankfully I got mine second-hand, for £400.

Then, not forgetting the designer suit for the night before the wedding – another £300 – as well as the white, feather-covered two-piece I wore for the hen party (also £300). This wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic of me; I have always adored fashion and invest in clothes, shoes and handbags (whether or not I can afford it). But this was my wedding. The wardrobe had to be spectacular – particularly as I expected the pictures to be plastered all over social media.

I’ve only worn my ‘night before’ suit once since, while the two-piece from my hen is stuck at the back of the cupboard. I ensured all six of my bridesmaids and the two mothers had access to the best hair and make-up team, setting me back another couple of thousand for a four-person glam team on the day, as well as three ‘trial’ sessions.

And not forgetting the grand’s worth of beauty and hair treatments I had before the big day to ensure I was plumped and primed, including premium hair extensions costing around £500, and invisible braces to perfect my smile, at £2,500.

The quest for a bougie wedding was, initially, a shared goal. My ex was also a fan of the pricey venues and wanted no expense spared on certain elements, such as music and photographer. We didn’t have a solid budget at first, but agreed we’d ‘top up’ whatever our parents were willing to donate with our own personal savings.

But I’ll admit that I was more invested in how the day looked. Like many brides, I fell victim to Instagram. Search ‘wedding inspo’ on social media and you’ll be hit with a never-ending stream of aesthetic ‘inspiration’ courtesy of our influencer culture. You’re led to believe that anything is possible.

There are entire walls adorned with roses, six outfit changes and even personalised firework displays. And I was a sucker for all of it, sending my long-suffering bridesmaids daily updates of my ‘vision’. The more I focused on Instagram ‘goals’, the more of my savings I decided to blow.

Did I ever stop to think that such an obsession with the grander details was a way to mask a widening gap in our relationship? I confess I did not. Although now I realise that, while not conscious, maybe I really was trying to distract myself.

I purchased bespoke stationery for guests to keep, tapered candles, hurricane lanterns, pink fabrics, linen tablecloths, specially fitted fairy lights… we even had personalised M&Ms with our initials inscribed. This all added up to at least another grand.

And then there were flowers – which included two extravagant installations that both ended up in the bin – for about £3,000. The biggest expense was the venue, a fancy country bolt hole in North Yorkshire which set us back around £20,000, plus another £7,000 on hotel rooms, and £5,000 on extra booze.

We also spent £2,000 on a band that, while brilliant, weren’t a patch on my Spotify playlist when it came to enticing guests to the dance floor. A £500 cake that mostly went untouched (half of it was left in the freezer of the house we sold after the split). And the honeymoon; a five-star stay in the Italian countryside for 10 days, setting us back another couple of grand in total.

You might be thinking that this story stinks of someone with more money than sense. The truth is, neither my ex or I are well-off, nor are our families. But I happen to be an exceptionally good saver – and have been building a nest egg ever since I got my first job on the Waitrose checkouts aged 16.

Then there was the added benefit of the Covid pandemic to curb spending, and some help from our parents. I feel extra sick when I think of this as I know my mum worries about money. I was especially fastidious about saving in the run up to the big day. I didn’t need that Zara dress; I’d rather my wedding guests had an extra four glasses of champagne.

In the couple of months before the wedding, I reached total tunnel vision. Most of my daily thoughts were occupied with how to make the wedding that bit more spectacular.

I even suggested we rent a Rolls-Royce to transport my partner to the wedding. He lost his patience. ‘What’s wrong with an Uber?’ he asked, to which I gasped as if he’d suggested turning up on a bicycle. His true feelings became clear; I was wasting money we needed for our marriage.

I knew he was right but by this point there was no turning back. I placated him by vowing to cut back slightly on the flowers and losing the videographer. Eventually, he gave up arguing with me.

In the three years since, I’ve managed to recoup a couple of thousand by selling my dress and veil, and another thousand or so from friends who paid us back for their hotel stay.

As for the loft full of decorations, I couldn’t stand to see the sight of them after our break-up, so packed them into cardboard boxes and stashed them in my storage unit. Now, it seems I have come full circle.

Social media may have influenced me to spend money, but today it’s made me reflect, and regret. ‘If there is a next time, focus on the marriage, not the wedding,’ is one of the top comments on my viral TikTok video.

I never thought I’d say this of a social media troll – but this person is right. When people ask if there were signs my relationship was about to die, I struggle to answer. The truth is, I spent the last two years so caught up in wedding fever, I lost sight of why we were doing it or, crucially, if we both still wanted to. I chose to ignore the screaming arguments and lack of intimacy and instead focus on the hue of the tablecloths.

Perhaps it was my brain’s way of protecting me from a truth that was too painful to handle. Or, perhaps I really was, for a brief period, a total bridezilla.