A Wedding Spun from Lace and Butter Yellow that Melted into the Jungle

A Closer Look

Costa Rica handed Jensen and Jordan a setting that needed no help. Villa Punto de Vista sits above the jungle in Quepos, all open wood and glass, with the Pacific filling every window. Rather than compete with it, the couple and Tropical Occasions brought in the one thing the jungle couldn't supply, which was softness. Lace, pearls and yards of ivory drapery met orchids, anthuriums and calla lilies, and some of the boldest tropical flowers there are started to look like heirlooms.

Jensen's bouquet made the case first. Stylos y Flores cascaded white phalaenopsis orchids and waxy anthuriums over green amaranthus, then bound the stems in lace streamers long enough to sway below her knees. It was a jungle bouquet carried like something handed down. Her look was the softest thing in the house. The NEWHITE Bridal gown was a fitted sweetheart, but sheer sleeves slipped off her shoulders and a lace-edged veil drifted out to cathedral length. Every line ended in something airy. Pearls at her ears and wrist kept the details small and feminine, and against the dense green behind her, all that sheerness read even softer. Her bridesmaids echoed the softness in butter yellow satin, a creamy shade that glowed like sunlight.

The ceremony pavilion looked straight out to sea, and the view was big enough to swallow the day. Loose ivory swags across the ceiling brought it back to human scale, and white stone vases brimming with green hydrangea, blush roses and pink and yellow orchids framed the horizon instead of crowding it. Bentwood chairs lined the aisle with ivory ribbons and a sage paper fan waiting on every seat.

For portraits, the couple went down to the beach, the wildest ground of the day. Against a black outcrop of rock, Jensen's lace-edged veil fanned across the sand. It was the most delicate thing she wore, laid over the roughest place she stood.

By dinner, the lace had moved onto every surface. Ivory fabric gathered overhead above long tables dressed in crinkled butter yellow linens and lace runners. Menus sat in lace frames, and napkins were tied with lace bows. Each guest's place card was an orchid bloom hand-lettered with their name, the official flower of the country. Candlelight did the rest. Pillar candles and votives ran the length of every table, and the room took on the same warm, creamy glow the butter yellow had carried all day, only deeper and more romantic after dark. At their own seats, the couple's bentwood chairs wore embroidered lace Just Married chair signs tied on with ivory satin bows.

Mariposa Pastry's two-tier cake, piped in ivory buttercream swags, could have come from a grandmother's recipe box. The party loosened everything. Jensen changed into a strapless satin corset minidress and a pearl necklace, Jordan shed his jacket for a white shirt, and both put on heart-shaped sunglasses for the dance floor with DJ Ciro Briceño. Even the bar joined in. Orchids and amaranthus tumbled onto a lace runner toasting the Greens, and the lace that had wrapped her bouquet ended the night carrying their new name.