A WEDDING REWRITTEN: CHAVA & SEAN’S FRENCH FAIRYTALE

Sarah Thomas Events
Jun 12
5 min read

Updated: Oct 1

In an industry known for precision, timing, and picture-perfect moments, the lead up to Chava and Sean’s wedding was defined instead by uncertainty, resilience, and an extraordinary stroke of serendipity.

Chava is a screenwriter. Sean, a producer. They live in Los Angeles, where stories are shaped in writers’ rooms and pitched in boardrooms, not in centuries-old vineyards outside Bordeaux. Yet, that’s exactly where they found themselves rewriting the story of their wedding after confronting the unraveling of their 18-months-in-the-making plans, just two weeks before their big day.

The couple had originally booked a château in the Dordogne department of South West France, drawn in by its polished online presence and the promise of a seamless celebration. I'd worked there many times over the past decade, and, as of early 2024, the owners recommended me as their preferred planner and florist.

We spent six months working together across continents: developing designs, choosing floral palettes, finalizing menus. But, unfortunately, the promise proved short-lived.

In September 2024, just days after that summer’s wedding season ended, the same venue owners launched a sweeping defamatory attack, falsely advising clients that I'd ruined all the weddings I'd planned at their château that summer and that they could therefore either keep the château or keep me.

Without warning, they appointed an in-house “planner”—a member of their household staff with no prior planning experience—and sent couples a tirade of misleading and fabricated accusations about my etiquette and professionalism.

Faced with what appeared to be a credible case and fearing the loss of their 'dream' venue, most couples parted ways with me. Chava and Sean, caught in the confusion, made the same choice.

By winter, the cracks had begun to show. The in-house planning support faltered. Communication stalled. In early January, another couple was expelled from the venue for questioning rising prices, excessive cash payments and amateur in-house catering services. It became increasingly clear to many that the problem wasn’t me—it was the venue.

Chava and Sean saw the pattern but cautiously chose a compromise to avoid being forced out: I would return in a reduced role, delivering design and stationery elements only, without direct planning involvement and without any on-site support.

By spring, the situation had grown more precarious. “Well, it’ll either happen or it won’t,” Chava told me on a March design call. It was a resigned, disheartening admission and it broke my heart.

Even though my role was limited to dropping off décor pre-wedding and collecting it post, I booked an Airbnb close to the venue for the duration of their wedding weekend. I didn’t yet know when I’d be needed — just that I would be.

Then came May 21st. The venue’s in-house planner abruptly left the country for personal reasons. Her private and vulnerable message to the château owners was circulated to all clients without consent. The venue owners, now without any logistical overview, incredulously asked clients to advise on the work completed by their own "wedding planner" — something they were unable to do having been ghosted by her for months! Despite admitting receiving complaints from two other couples over the preceding weeks, the venue owners blamed Chava and Sean for the situation for not having highlighted the issues sooner. The illusion of control dissolved overnight and the extent of the gaslighting was, at last, clear as day.

“Is there any way to move venues by our date?” Chava messaged at 1:15am that night.

"Yes!" I said. "I can do anything you need."

I was online immediately. One listing stood out: Château Borgeat de Lagrange, a 19th-century estate in Blaye, just north of Bordeaux. It had only become available the day before, thanks to a last-minute cancellation—a twist of fate that still gives me goosebumps. I messaged. Then I emailed. And though I explored other options over the next two days, I couldn’t shake the feeling about this one. On Friday, June 23rd, I finally heard back. The owner, Estelle, had been managing her vineyard and hadn’t seen the note, but her brother had. “I think these people need our help,” he told her.

I toured the property 24 hours later. It was understated and elegant, set among vines a stone’s through from Blaye’s UNESCO registered citadel and nestled beside a tranquil lake. Its ballroom had hosted Baron Haussmann, the 19th-century architect who reshaped modern Paris under Napoleon III. Haussmann’s approach to urban design—emphasizing space, symmetry, and grandeur—came to define French civic architecture. To stand in that same room was to feel the continuity of history in motion.

Chava and Sean had 20 guests. The château could host exactly that number. The location—45 minutes from Bordeaux—was perfect. The setting: quietly magnificent. “If I’d been your planner when you were shortlisting venues,” I told them, “this is the one I would’ve chosen.”

I am a strong believer in fate and everything about the days between May 23rd and June 7th 2025 felt serendipitous.

In just two weeks , we rewrote every plan.

Most vendors stayed on. A new caterer was secured. New AV equipment was organized. I secured replacement staffing.

We restructured the ceremony as a lakeside circle and introduced new, personalised design details I now felt confident we could pull off: bespoke cocktails, serpentine tablescapes, carefully curated decor. The replacement florist, Le Coeur Sauvage, is one of my favourites in France and owner Faith and I worked together to reimagine everything.

Throughout the process, Sean stayed pragmatic. “As long as it’s not a ditch,” he said, “we’ll get married anywhere.” And yet what followed was far from settling. It was focused, collaborative, and considered. It was, finally, without compromise, their own.

The wedding weekend arrived with sun and calm. The food was excellent. The setting—both natural and architectural—offered a kind of gravitas that can’t be faked. It was not the grand production originally envisioned. It was quieter, more authentic, and far more meaningful.

In the wedding industry, success is often measured by spectacle. But the truth is, it’s the professionals who approach their work with consistency, honesty, and quiet determination who carry these events through chaos.

If there’s a lesson in Chava and Sean’s journey, it’s this: a good vendor is not just someone with promises, but someone who shows up when things fall apart.

But here’s a harder truth. Not all wedding professionals are in this for the right reasons. Some are here for

the art, others for the algorithm. My advice to couples? Work with people who light up when they talk about your day. Passion is your best insurance policy.