When the Velvet Curtains Rose, a Garden Parlor Bloomed

A Closer Look

Sarah Brehant Events styled this bridal editorial at The Litchfield Inn the way an interior designer would approach a country house. Each space was furnished like a room, with drapery, lamps and upholstered seating, and the garden was invited to grow through all of it. The idea began on paper. Holly Winnie Calligraphy set the invitation on marbled stock swirled in navy, pink and gold, slipped it into a chartreuse envelope lined in burgundy, and cut the reply card into the shape of a fringed lampshade.

The bridal look kept its lines clean so the color could stay with the flowers. The ivory gown paired a structured strapless bodice with a dropped waist that released into deep gathers and a long train. Ephemirus bundled smoke bush, alliums and trailing greens into a bouquet tied with streaming tails of burgundy silk, which gave the first hint of the curtains waiting in the meadow.

The ceremony was staged like the opening of a play. Burgundy velvet curtains hung in heavy swags at the end of the aisle, and Ephemirus built columns of smoke bush, dark-centered sunflowers, coneflowers and tall grasses that rose up the drapery before spilling down to line the path. The seating looked borrowed from indoors, with powder-blue cushions on black iron chairs whose backs curved in a wave. With no walls around it, the grass became the floor of an open-air parlor.

The glass-roofed tent from The Greenwich Tent Company picked up where the meadow left off. White and olive drapery stood in for walls, and a reeded wood console held a pleated burgundy table lamp beside a tumble of smoke bush and amaranthus. In the lounge, camel suede sofas with scalloped backs faced curvy chartreuse armchairs and glossy black side tables. Black arched shelving behind the bar was stocked with books and small lamps, and beside it a towering installation of green bananas, a banana blossom and Spanish moss looked as if the field had wandered in from outside.

Dinner mixed its tables the way an old house mixes its furniture. One ran in black wood with pink hand-painted plates and pink-edged menus. Another sat under white linens block-printed with red sprigs and green rosettes, flanked by chartreuse upholstered chairs, and a round black table rested on a caned base among wishbone chairs. Artichokes lay loose among amber votives and burgundy tapers, so the garden reached the table too. Overhead, Shindig Lighting hung woven rattan pendants trimmed in burnt-orange fringe. The lampshade that had first arrived as a reply card now lit the whole room.