Virginia City Elopement: A Tattooed Bride's Desert Mountain Wedding Story

Before the wedding, my biggest worry was the dress. Not whether I'd look good—more like whether I'd even find something that felt like me.

I've got tattoos everywhere. Arms, shoulders, back. I've never fit that whole "traditional bride" image. And I'm 5'5", was about 135 pounds back then—curvy, not sample-size. I knew most bridal shops weren't really designed for someone like me. I wanted a dress that showed my ink, not covered it up. And I absolutely did not want to drop hundreds on alterations.

Then I got lucky. Really lucky. Tried on this strapless satin mermaid gown with a little sparkle on the bust. Slipped it on and it just—fit. No hemming, no taking in the sides, no nothing. I wore it straight off the rack. Still have it in my closet.

We got married in Virginia City, Nevada. Old mining town up in the desert mountains. Rocky hills, dry brush, crazy blue skies. There's this little white chapel there with chipped paint and bright green doors. That's where we did my portraits. Me in the white satin wedding dress, tattoos out, holding a bouquet of black roses and dark greenery, standing in front of those beat-up green doors. A tattooed bride, a no-alteration dress, a peeling old chapel—honestly, it all kind of fit.

The ceremony was outside, on this overlook facing the valley. Weather was perfect—warm sun, a little breeze, everything glowing gold. In some of our photos you can see propane tanks in the background, some scraggly trees. Other brides might hate that. I love it. Keeps things real.

My husband wore a black suit, black shirt, green tie. Simple. He had a little white flower on his lapel. One of my favorite shots is us walking away on a red-brick path—his back to the camera, my train dragging, our tattooed hands locked together. He's holding a beer in that picture, grinning like an idiot. That's him. That's us.

I got ready at home that morning. Blonde hair up in a bun with green pins, smoky eyes, dark liner. At one point I was standing in front of the mirror, fixing my veil, and I caught myself in the reflection. Tattooed arms. White satin.

Veil falling soft behind me. And I thought—huh. I actually look good. Not "good for a tattooed girl." Just good.

I've heard so many wedding dress horror stories from friends. Spending fortunes on alterations. Crying in fitting rooms.

Settling for something that wasn't quite right. Maybe I just got lucky, but I also think the right dress doesn't try to turn you into somebody else. It just meets you where you are.

The whole day was chill. No tight schedule, no crowd, no drama. Just us, the mountains, that wide Nevada sky.

If you're an alternative bride—tattooed, curvy, whatever makes you different—don't let anyone tell you to tone it down. Pick the dark flowers. Wear the dress that fits. Let your skin show.

Our wedding wasn't polished. Wasn't fancy. But it was ours. And I wouldn't change it.