A Rained-Out Redwood Wedding That Pivoted to the Graduate

The Rained-Out Pivot to the Graduate Berkeley That Became the Wedding

With the redwoods gone, the altar came from the families' own hands — a hexagonal wood arch raised at the front of the paneled room and dressed on one shoulder with a spray of white blooms and eucalyptus, standing in for the canopy the windstorm had taken. Windsor chairs were set in short rows on the Persian rugs, the deep-blue walls close on every side. Makani Aiu officiated, a leather vow book between the couple, George looking down and laughing softly as the words were read.

Katie came in on her father's arm, and their dog came right down the aisle with everyone else — a small brindle terrier in a little bandana, trotting the rug at the guests' feet and staying for the vows. The families sat close in the front chairs, Katie's mother in champagne satin holding the terracotta-and-dried bouquet, the fathers beside her. The room was small and warm, and it held everything the outdoor version would have. It just happened indoors, under an arch that two families had zip-tied and tucked together that same morning, and it looked like something planned months ahead.

“Their parents built the arch. Their dog walked the aisle. The room was warm, and the day found everything it needed.”

Family Photos After a Rained-Out Pivot

Afterward came family photos and portraits through the building, Viera Photographics working Katie and George from the paneled ceremony room out into the hotel's other spaces — the arched doorways, the eclectic wallpaper and rugs, the warm-toned rooms of a Spanish Colonial that has been on this block since it opened as the Hotel Durant in 1928. The hand-built floral arch read beautifully against all of it, and with twelve people who already knew each other, the portraits had a loose ease to them.

When the rain wanted to be part of the day, they let it. There is a portrait of the two of them under the building's grand stone arched entrance, each holding a clear umbrella, George in his navy suit and Katie in her beaded dress and blue heels, the wet gray sky behind them — the storm turned into a backdrop instead of a problem. Twelve people fit easily through the rooms, and nobody was in a hurry, the portraits moving at conversation pace because the group was small enough to have one.

Speeches and Cake in the Durant Room

Dinner was one long light-wood table set down the middle of the private dining room, black Windsor chairs on either side, a low run of terracotta, burgundy, and pampas down the center, the beaded chandelier throwing warm light over all of it. Deep-blue paneling, the old framed campus photographs on the wall, the hand-built arch still standing at the far end where the ceremony took place — the whole night lived in one room.

Speeches came from the couple's closest people, the room going quiet while they talked. There is a photo of a father with the microphone, pressing the back of his hand to his eyes mid-toast, Katie across the table reaching a coupe of champagne toward him. Dinner came from the hotel kitchen, and as the evening settled in, Katie and George cut the cake from Lavender Bakery & Cafe. Guests left notes all day, tucked into an engraved wooden box beside a bottle of wine — the couple's crest, crossed oars, "Katie & George, Est. 2023" burned into the lid — a message to open on their first anniversary. Outside, January went on doing what January does. Inside, twelve people had the room to themselves, and the weather was the last thing anyone was thinking about.