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City Hall elopement with a live cellist: Kaylee and Sam took a corner of San Francisco City Hall one October, with seven guests and a single cellist on the marble, and a morning that stayed close the whole way through — then carried the celebration on to a reception at the RH Palm Court.
The cellist was already playing before anyone arrived, folk and indie songs drifting up through the colonnade while the building was still quiet. The ceremony was short and bright, and everyone walked to a glass-topped dining room for a meal together afterward.
The morning ran calm. Sam had his boutonniere pinned on in one of the building's stone corridors — a charcoal suit, a mauve-patterned tie, a white pocket square, a burgundy rose at the lapel with a tiny gold pin beside it. Kaylee got into an off-shoulder white gown with puff sleeves and a textured cloqué skirt, half her hair pinned up, round wire-frame glasses on. Her bouquet was a whole wild garden of a thing from Vanda Floral Design: coral and burgundy dahlias, daisies, orange roses, purple amaranth trailing down, and dried accents.
The small details were theirs and no one else's — red rhinestone sneakers under the hem of her dress, and a pair of novelty-print socks under Sam's oxfords. Before the ceremony they did a first look, Kaylee's face going straight to open-mouthed joy the second she saw him.
The cellist from Bay Area All Strings & Brass played from before anyone found their places, folk and indie songs carrying up through the open colonnade. When it was time, Kaylee and Sam faced each other in a bay beneath one of City Hall's enormous arched leaded-glass windows, the light pouring in behind them, their people close on wooden chiavari chairs — the bridesmaids in burgundy floral gowns, dabbing at their eyes.
Janette Say Yes said the words. They had walked in together to Johnny Cash's "Rose of My Heart," and the closeness of the group made every line land. They exchanged vows and rings, and when it was done they walked back out to Prince's "Kiss," played on strings, down the marble with everyone following behind.
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“A single cellist on the marble, folk songs up through the colonnade, and a Prince song on strings as they walked back out.”
After the ceremony the group moved through the building for photographs — the sweeping staircase, the arches, the tall windows throwing light across the stone. Hardy Wilson worked Kaylee and Sam along a stone balustrade, then out to a ledge below the biggest arched window in the building, the two of them tiny against the enormous curve of it.
They slipped off on their own in the colonnade before everyone gathered back for the walk out. City Hall gives a couple a landing on every floor and a different angle on the dome from each — plenty of room for a small group to move through without going far.
The celebration carried on at the RH Palm Court, the dining room at RH San Francisco — a tall stone-clad column, a tiered crystal chandelier overhead, marble tables and tan banquettes, warm sconce light all around. Everyone sat down together, and there was a first dance right there on the floor, Sam dipping Kaylee for a kiss between the tables.
There was a cake from Art Cakes, a heart-shaped one iced in soft white with vintage ruffled piping and "in every lifetime" written across the center in black. An indie playlist ran behind the conversation, the same sensibility that had carried through the whole day, from the cellist's pre-ceremony set to the Prince recessional — an indie-playlist City Hall wedding that let the morning wind down on its own.