卡羅琳·基奇納

It’s early May. Which means it’s wedding season. Which means a whole lot of Americans will soon be partying in a barn.

Millennials1， in staggering numbers， are choosing to start their married lives under high eaves and exposed beams， looking out over2 long， stripped-down3 wooden benches and lines of mason jars4. According to an annual survey from The Knot5， an online wedding-planning platform and magazine， 15 percent of couples chose a barn， farm， or ranch for their wedding reception in 2017， up from just 2 percent in 2009. Meanwhile， more traditional wedding locales are losing their appeal. （The number of couples choosing to celebrate in banquet halls dropped from 27 percent in 2009 to 17 percent in 2017; similarly， hotel receptions dropped from 18 to 12 percent.） Even if a couple isn’t actually getting married in a barn， there’s a good chance they’ll make their venue look like one， said Gabrielle Stone， a wedding planner based in Boston， Massachusetts. “There is this term that people use now： rustic chic.” Typically， that means couples will fill the space with homemade chalkboard signs and distressed6， vintage7 furniture. “And wooden water barrels，” Stone said. “Lots of water barrels.”

When I asked my first question—are barns popular because they’re cheap？ Gwen Helbush， a wedding planner from San Francisco， laughed. “Don’t we wish it were so，” she said. While there are， surely， many relatively inexpensive barn weddings thrown in actual barns， by couples who actually live in rural areas with easy actual-barn access， anecdotal evidence8 suggests those probably aren’t what’s driving this trend. （Data is not available broken down by race， class， geography， or anything else—a level of granularity9 that would surely add to the picture of who is buoying this trend and why.）

Over the last few years， a wave of faux-barns， designed exclusively to host weddings， have popped up across the country. Venues like Virginia’s Pippin Hill Farm10， built in 2011， offer an experience that its owner Lynn Easton Andrews called “expensively understated.” “We’re not seeing bales of hay in the middle of the barn，” Stone said. “No one is wearing overalls， per se11.” The tarnished brass lamps and faded couches are generally hauled in from boutique vintage rental companies—another business booming with the barn-wedding industry—more akin to props than random， left-over farming accoutrements12.

Like earlier generations of Americans， Millennials want a beautiful （read： expensive） wedding. According to one widely-cited set of statistics， the average wedding cost has been steadily increasing， from $27，021 in 2011 to $33，391 in 2017. But， despite these price tags， many young couples today don’t want to be showy about it. Happier at a brewery than a fancy restaurant， accustomed to wearing jeans to work， many Millennials are proudly casual. There is a certain social capital that， as a 20- or 30-something， comes with being labeled “l(fā)aid-back13” and “chill14.” “You’re going to be putting yourself out there in front of everyone you know and love and you don’t want to be judged harshly，” Helbush told me. The trappings15 of a traditional， formal wedding in a hotel ballroom—a fancy fish dish， a black-tie dress code， trays of champagne—are seen by many as stuffy and old-fashioned： chill’s antithesis.

When Easton Andrews asks couples to show her pictures of their dream wedding， the same type of image crops up16 a lot. “There are people sitting on long tables， clinking glasses， smiling，” she said. “It’s about how heartfelt it feels—people sitting together， breaking bread， sharing the experience.” Formality， for many Millennials， feels awkward. It adds pressure. If a wedding were clearly designed to be just-so17—not a table setting out of place—Millennials， Helbush said， may find it hard to relax. Barns and farms， on the other hand， eviscerate that pressure with their inherent informality. A guest can knock over a glass. Life will go on.

Young couples today， more than their parents or grandparents， see a wedding as an expression of their identity. Because they’re choosing to get married later than previous generations， Helbush finds that her clients today seem to know themselves better than her clients 30 years ago. “They’ve come into themselves more，” she said. “They know what they like and they aren’t afraid to ask for it.” Couples gravitate18 towards locales that say something about their personality. By choosing to get married in a barn， Easton Andrews said， a couple might want to show that they’re “connec.ted to nature.” Maybe they fell in love outside， hiking or camping. Other unique locales—historic homes and museums for history buffs19， and vineyards for wine lovers—are also having a moment in the wedding industry.

“It’s about the couple—who they are， and what they want to represent，” Helbush told me. “More than ‘How do I want other people to see me？’， it’s ‘How do I want to see myself？’” Many， she said， live in urban areas and have a fantasy about a life that is “calmer and less complicated”： a life removed from the big city， where couples and their guests can be one with the animals （or—if none are available—at least the spaces they could theoretically inhabit）. A barn wedding typifies a simpler life， Helbush said.

五月的來臨意味著婚禮季的到來，也意味著大批美國人即將歡聚于谷倉。

如今，不計其數(shù)的千禧一族選擇在高聳的屋檐與裸露的房梁下、在簡樸的長條木凳與成排玻璃瓶罐前開啟他們的新婚生活。在線婚禮策劃平臺暨雜志The Knot的一份年度調(diào)查顯示：2017年，15%的新人選擇谷倉、農(nóng)場或牧場作為婚禮場地，而2009年這一比例僅為2%。與此同時，傳統(tǒng)的婚禮場地正愈發(fā)喪失吸引力。（選擇在宴會廳舉辦婚禮的新人比例由2009年的27%降至2017年的17%;同樣，在酒店舉辦婚禮的比例也由18%降至12%。）馬薩諸塞州波士頓市的婚禮策劃人嘉布麗爾·斯通說，即使一對新人并不是真的在谷倉中結(jié)婚，他們也很可能會把場地布置成谷倉的樣子，“人們都在說‘鄉(xiāng)野時尚’這個詞”。通常而言，這意味著新人會在結(jié)婚現(xiàn)場擺上自己用粉筆手寫的標(biāo)語牌和老式仿舊家具?！斑€有木質(zhì)水桶，”斯通說，“很多水桶?！?/p>

聽到我提出的第一個問題“谷倉是因為便宜才受歡迎嗎？”，來自舊金山的婚禮策劃人格溫·赫爾布什笑了?！拔覀兊挂蚕Ｍ@樣啊?！彼f道。確實有許多相對廉價的谷倉婚禮是在真正的谷倉中舉辦，因為這些新人本來就生活在鄉(xiāng)下，離真正的谷倉很近，但坊間證據(jù)表明，生活在鄉(xiāng)下的新人可能并不是這一趨勢的推動因素。（目前暫無按種族、階層、地域或其他類別劃分的數(shù)據(jù)，這些達(dá)到粒度級別的數(shù)據(jù)必將有助于判斷誰是這一趨勢的推動力，原因又是何在。）

過去幾年，全國各地涌現(xiàn)出一批專門為舉辦婚禮設(shè)計的仿制谷倉。弗吉尼亞州的皮平山農(nóng)場建于2011年，農(nóng)場主林恩·伊斯頓·安德魯斯將這種場所帶給人們的體驗稱為“昂貴的低調(diào)消費”?！肮葌}里我們看不到成捆的干草，”斯通說道，“本身也沒有人穿工裝?！笔ス鉂傻狞S銅燈和褪色的沙發(fā)一般都是從精品老物件租賃公司（谷倉婚慶產(chǎn)業(yè)帶動起來的另一行業(yè)）運過來的，它們更像是道具，而非隨意留下來的農(nóng)用裝備。

同老輩的美國人一樣，千禧一族也想要華美的（意即：昂貴的）婚禮。一組廣為引用的數(shù)據(jù)顯示：婚禮的平均花費一直在穩(wěn)步上升，從2011年的27021美元升至2017年的33391美元。然而，盡管價碼不低，如今許多年輕情侶卻并不想張揚。許多千禧一族更喜歡啤酒廠，而不是高檔飯店，他們習(xí)慣穿著牛仔褲去上班，并為這種隨意感到自豪。二三十歲年輕人的標(biāo)簽就是“隨性”和“酷炫”，這已成為某種社交資本?！澳闶且炎约撼尸F(xiàn)在所有熟人和至親面前的，不想受到大家的犀利品評。”赫爾布什告訴我。高檔魚肴、半正式著裝規(guī)范、托盤香檳，這些都是在酒店舞廳舉辦的那種傳統(tǒng)、莊重的婚禮的標(biāo)配，在許多人看來卻是既古板又老舊，與“酷炫”截然相反。

當(dāng)伊斯頓·安德魯斯讓新人們向她描述他們夢想的婚禮場景時，大家多是想到了相同的畫面?！叭藗冏陂L桌前，酒杯相碰，面帶微笑?！彼f道，“那是一種發(fā)自內(nèi)心的感受——人們坐在一起，分食面包，共享這種體驗?！倍心嘤诙Y節(jié)會讓許多千禧一族很不自在、備感壓力。赫爾布什說，如果把婚禮策劃得十分正規(guī)，沒有一張桌子擺放不當(dāng)，那么千禧一族可能很難放松下來。相反，谷倉和農(nóng)場正是以其固有的非正式感消除了這種壓力。賓客可以打翻玻璃杯，生活照樣繼續(xù)。

相較于父輩或祖父輩，如今的年輕情侶更是將婚禮視為自我身份的表達(dá)。他們情愿比老輩人更晚結(jié)婚，這讓赫爾布什發(fā)現(xiàn)，今天的客戶似乎比30年前的客戶更加了解自我?！八麄兏靼鬃约旱男枨螅彼f，“知道自己喜歡什么，而且不怕去爭取?！毙氯藗儍A向于選擇能表達(dá)個性的場所。伊斯頓·安德魯斯說，他們選擇在谷倉舉辦婚禮，或許是想展示自己“與大自然的關(guān)聯(lián)”。也許他們是在戶外活動中墜入愛河的，比如在遠(yuǎn)足或露營期間。其他一些獨特的場所，比如吸引歷史愛好者的古宅和博物館、吸引葡萄酒愛好者的葡萄園，也在婚慶產(chǎn)業(yè)中熱度大升。

“關(guān)鍵在于新人自己的想法——他們是誰，他們想表現(xiàn)什么。”赫爾布什告訴我，“相比‘我想讓別人怎樣看待我？’，人們更關(guān)注‘我想怎樣看待自己？’”她說，許多人生活在城區(qū)，對那種“更為寧靜、更為簡約”的生活情有獨鐘，那是一種遠(yuǎn)離大都市的生活，新人和賓客可以與自然界的動物融為一體（或者，如果沒有動物，至少理論上可以與其棲息的空間融為一體）。赫爾布什說，谷倉婚禮象征著一種更為簡單的生活。

（譯者單位：北京外國語大學(xué)高級翻譯學(xué)院）