A Pause in the Powder

From chalet chaos to wedding chaos - turns out love and logistics are universal.

When I left for my ski season, I didn’t foresee myself going back to South Africa until the following Christmas. But of course, as the saying goes, life happens. My gran, who is like our second mother, fell ill and my sister refused to not have her wedding without my gran being there. And within one month, the wedding had been moved to March. No matter how much fun I was having, how many powder days I chased, or how deeply I had settled into my chalet host routine, there was never a question - I was going home.

Two weeks away from the slopes felt strange, like stepping out of a dream and into reality. One minute, I was in Val d’Isère, covered in jambon cru and trying to convince my manager that snow clearing is against Mother Nature’s plan. The next, I was landing in Cape Town, greeted by heat, family, and a to-do list that rivalled my chalet hosting duties. Only this time, instead of scrubbing toilets and setting tables, I was learning how to button a bustle and remind my mother that it was in fact not her wedding.

Nothing replaces being in the same place as your entire family; the comfortable chaos of everyone talking over each other, my dad saying, “you have to hear this song”, my mom fussing over whether I’ve been eating enough, my brother and I slipping back into the rhythm of inside jokes that don’t need explaining.

And then there was her. My sister. The reason I was there. She was now standing in front of me in a wedding dress. And somehow, despite all the years and all the miles, she was still my best friend.

I was her maid of honour and had spent weeks agonising over the right words, something that captured her, that honoured them, that felt right for this moment. And when the day came, when Van Morrison, "Into The Mystic" played and she walked down the aisle, I knew that no words would ever be enough. But I spoke them anyway:

"If there’s one thing everyone knows about my sister Catherine, it’s her passion for art. Art has always been her way of seeing and understanding the world—a way of finding beauty in the detail, meaning in the abstract, and connection in what might seem ordinary to others. And one of my favourite things about Harry is how much he loves and celebrates the way art is woven into who Cath is. It feels fitting, then, to speak about love in the language of art. After all, love is its own kind of artistry—a collaboration between two people, creating something extraordinary from a blank canvas.

Love is the most enduring masterpiece we will ever create. It takes courage to embrace its unknowns, to pick up the brush and trust in what might happen. Each decision—whether bold or delicate—becomes a stroke that forms something entirely unique, something deeply personal.

Cath and Harry have created a bond that is as intricate and textured as any great work of art. It is a love painted with patience and understanding, shaded with compassion, and brightened by kindness. Together, they have discovered the balance between light and shadow, creating harmony in their shared story while letting each other’s individual colours shine.

Art, like love, demands care. It requires the willingness to listen, to adapt, to see beauty in the imperfections. It is not just the grand, sweeping gestures but also the quiet details—the gentle touches, the shared glances, the laughter that echoes in everyday moments—that give it depth and meaning.

Cath and Harry, as we celebrate this new chapter in your lives, may your love be a canvas that you never stop painting, one filled with vibrant hues of adventure, soft pastels of comfort, and the golden highlights of a shared life.

I know that your lives together will be a work of art that inspires everyone around you, just as it has inspired me. I love you both and cannot wait to welcome Harry into our family."

And just like that, it was over. The wedding, the reunion, the two weeks of stepping back into my old world. I boarded my flight back to France, my voice hoarse from singing and laughing, my heart a little heavier. But how exciting that I get to be a part of my sister and her husband’s new journey, in person, in London.