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Yes, wild weekend bachelorette parties are important.
Lobster rolls, oysters, bloody marys, and plastic cups of beer filled the long, rough-hewn tables at Cisco Brewers on Nantucket last weekend. People sitting on similarly rustic stools sported various versions of the preppy New England summer uniform: white pants, gauzy beach cover-ups, salmon-colored shorts, light blue button-downs.
But five or so different clusters of women wore uniforms of a different kind. The color of the matching T-shirts varied from group to group, but each had some sort of nautical motif and a slogan like “Brides Mate,” or “Setting sail before the veil,” or “Let’s get ship faced”—seriously. I am not making this up. In each group, one woman wore a white version of the shirt, offsetting her as a bride-to-be.
They were all bachelorette parties. They were all undoubtedly time-consuming and expensive. Many of the women looked miserable. And yet, lots of brides have a blow-out bachelorette, and lots of bridesmaids and close friends go.
Why do we keep going to these things if we’re so wary of them?