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A multicultural city hall elopement is what Shireen and Kendall put together — a small circle of family at San Francisco City Hall in September 2024, married under the golden dome and then home again for dinner. Two mothers in wrist corsages, a father who blessed the meal at the end of the night, and a marriage license signed and photographed because that was the part that made it real. They kept it close, and they kept it theirs.
A bright morning in a rented house on Lyon Street gave way to the marble and gilt of City Hall, then back to the same house for dinner. This is the kind of day that stays in a family for a long time — no large production, just the people who mattered, in the order the couple wanted them.
On Lyon Street, inside a rented Victorian, Shireen sat for hair and makeup while the flowers came in from Vanda Floral Design — her bridal bouquet of white calla lilies tied with ribbon, Kendall's matching calla-lily boutonniere, and the wrist corsages for the mothers and aunts who would stand closest to them. Her gown was a strapless ivory column, draped and gathered at the waist, worn with a short veil and her dark hair down. She stepped up the house's narrow staircase from behind, veil trailing, past a little sign that reads "leave your shoes by the door," a chandelier catching the light overhead.
By late morning the corsages were set aside for the drive across town. Nobody was rushing. The house stayed quiet and full at the same time, the way a family home does before everyone leaves for the ceremony. Kendall dressed in a dark forest-green three-piece suit with a white bow tie, the calla lily pinned to the lapel.
The ceremony was on the fourth-floor North Gallery of San Francisco City Hall, under the carved stone vaults and a tall sculpted urn set against the arches. Kendall waited at the front while a string player from the SF Conservatory of Music carried the music in — "Can't Help Falling in Love" played first, and then the wedding march brought Shireen down the gallery on both her parents' arms, her father in black with a rust tie and her mother in silver-blue beading beside her, carrying a small bouquet of her own. The couple saw each other for the first time that day right there, at the top of the aisle.
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Janette married them. They exchanged vows and rings with the small circle gathered in — Shireen read hers from a note she had handwritten to Kendall, folded small in her hand, her marquise ring catching the light as she held it. Shireen's parents stood on one side, Kendall's mother in cobalt blue and his father in navy on the other, both families clapping them back up the gallery. Then two witnesses signed the marriage license while the couple watched, the piece of paperwork they wanted photographed because it was the part that made it official.
“Both her parents walked her down the gallery, and she read Kendall a vow she had written out by hand.”
Family and couple portraits followed through the building. The whole group gathered under the rotunda for one — both families shoulder to shoulder beneath the great golden dome, the light pouring down the arched window behind them, Shireen's mother in green lace at the center with her cane and her wrist corsage. On a bench off the North Gallery, Shireen sat between her parents for a quiet minute, her father bent to kiss the back of her hand, her mother settled close on her other side. City Hall is a 1915 Beaux-Arts landmark, and the North Gallery where they married carries tall leaded-glass windows on three sides — the most natural light in the building — and Shireen and Kendall found a stretch of it for themselves, a kiss in the empty gallery, their shadows long across the polished marble.
A small family circle gets to use the building differently than a larger event would allow. With only a handful of people, the couple could pause at any landing without managing a crowd, and the civic corridors, built for grandeur, end up feeling almost private at that scale. Kendall stood between his mother and father for one grouping, all three of them laughing, before the group moved on through the arches.
Everyone drove back to the Lyon Street house for the reception. Shireen and Kendall changed and stopped for a few more photos around the place, the front door especially, which they had wanted from the start.
The family had picked up dinner from a restaurant, and before anyone ate, Shireen's father gave a blessing over the meal. Later they cut a small heart-shaped cake from Art Cakes Bakery, its buttercream piped in pale green and set with white sugar roses, the two of them reaching for it together. It was an ending that fit a wedding built around family — the ceremony downtown under the dome, the celebration at home, the same faces all the way through.