In a sun-soaked room in Melbourne’s inner north, Tara and Marina Hart are getting matching tattoos on one of the happiest days of their lives.

The university librarians walk down a eucalyptus-lined aisle together, then say “I do” in front of 20 of their loved ones, who later toss rose petals over them in an alley out back.

By the time they’re getting inked with matching hearts and swords, their guests are peeling off, and the next wedding has already begun.

Tara and Marina are among an increasing number of couples ditching big white weddings for alternative, smaller and cheaper ceremonies, ranging from $400 at the bottom end to a few thousand. They’re driven by the belief that the traditional wedding industry does not reflect modern relationships, the fallout from the COVID-19 pandemic and the cost-of-living crisis.

Brunswick’s Flash Romantics, where the couple got married, cycles through six weddings in a single day in what owner Sass Cocker describes as a “well-oiled machine”.

“A wedding can be whatever you want it to be,” Cocker says.

Authentically ‘us’: Couples go their own way

Tara and Marina were already in “casual” talks to get married, but the allure of a flash tattoo wedding sped things up.

Within weeks of the announcement of a new date at the studio, Tara proposed — the pair from Ascot Vale in Melbourne’s north-west wanted a cool, queer, affordable way to get married after two years together.

“People were pretty surprised … we were like, ‘we’re getting married in a tattoo studio’,” Tara says.

Couples get inked with everything from croissants to pet portraits to celebrate their nuptials.

Some people, like the Harts, decide to choose a new shared surname rather than retain their own, and not all couples have a legal marriage or even guests.

“We’ve had commitment ceremonies for people who are polyamorous,” Cocker says.

“My partner [and I] can be their witnesses, and we can all celebrate them.”

Cocker, who uses they/them pronouns, ran a tattoo studio called Little Gold, where Flash Romantics was meant to be a one-off event in 2022. They’ve since pivoted the business entirely, running flash weddings with matching tattoos three times a year.

“Tattoos instead of rings, inviting just a small handful of chosen family, dogs, DIY and op-shop wedding outfits – it seems fitting to me that the queers are doing things their own way,” Cocker says.

Stress less: Embracing the ‘all-in-one’

Across town at The Altar Electric in Melbourne’s north-east, a DJ spins tunes beneath rotating disco balls while an overall-clad bartender serves guests bubbly over a leopard-print bar.

Co-owner Sarah Dobson, wearing a jumpsuit and silver platform boots, takes her post at the altar: a pink, tinsel-lined stage adorned with a massive blue sky heart.

Sarah tells the couple’s few dozen guests: “When you take away all the stuff – all the fluff, the distraction, the adrenaline, the drama – that can come with a bigger wedding … you realise that nothing else is important other than this: it’s Ellen, it’s Daniel.

“In peace, in love, in rock and roll, you are officially married!”

Daniel and Ellen Weissel — a physiotherapist and nurse who live in Wagga Wagga in inland NSW — initially wanted to elope overseas with minimal fuss.

Ultimately, they settled on something with only their nearest and dearest with an “all-in-one” package. The couple met working at Domino’s a decade ago and ended up bonding over their love of music.

“Everyone goes to a barn; everyone goes to a farm; everyone dresses up in chinos, boots and blazers,” Daniel says.

“We’ve done heaps of those. We want it to be us.”

Ellen, lounging on a couch minutes after the ceremony, says: “This morning, I was literally so chill. I’ve been a bridesmaid twice, and both weddings were do-it-yourself. There’s so many aspects; it’s too much.”

Six in 10 Australian and New Zealand wedding professionals say couples are inviting fewer guests in 2024, according to wedding planning marketplace Wedshed.

The business surveyed almost 600 wedding operators, and found nine in 10 service elopements and micro-weddings with fewer than 40 guests.

“Those who attended micro-weddings [during COVID] experienced how special and connecting they are, and those of us watching on from the sidelines suddenly started getting served content from these cosy celebrations that showed couples relishing in one-on-one time with friends and family,” Wedshed co-founder Amy Parfett says.

“There’s a perception that the smaller the wedding, the less stressful it will be to bring to life logistically, financially and even emotionally.”

‘Cheap and easy’: Budget as a badge of honour

Celebrant Kate Morgan recalls meeting a couple midway through their bike ride as they stopped for a break at Point Ormond at Elwood in Melbourne’s south-east.

She married the pair on the spot – activewear and all – with her dad and son there as witnesses.

“They put the certificate into their backpack and rode off down the track,” Morgan says.

Morgan’s business partner Mel Jacob came up with the idea for I Do Drive Thru in 2020, and it took off internationally during COVID – partly out of necessity, and partly for novelty.

They’ve since branched out, with I Do offering two- to 10-minute ceremonies everywhere.

Their most popular offering is the $400 “tight ass Tuesday” – a far cry from what the average Australian couple spends, which is $33,810, according to an industry report by wedding service Easy Weddings.

“More often than not, the tiniest weddings are the more emotional because the big weddings have become about Instagram photos,” Morgan says.

“I’m often crying myself because they’re about two people who just want to say how much they love each other.”

More than 118,000 couples got married in Australia last year, down from a record high of about 127,000 in 2022 after the height of the pandemic, according to the Australian Bureau of Statistics.

Laurence and Caitlin Antonio invited just a couple of friends to witness their elopement at Kirribilli on Sydney’s lower north shore.

The New Zealand couple, who met at university nine years ago, put off getting married because of the cost and couldn’t fathom going into debt for a big wedding. The pair are land surveyors, and used a work trip to Sydney this month to finally get hitched.

Laurence ended up buying his suit jacket a couple of days beforehand because of a tailoring bungle.

“I love that [the wedding] was short [and] sharp; it was cheap, it was easy. It actually really put the focus on us – that really ticked the box for me,” Laurence says.

The majority of wedding professionals say couples are more budget-conscious in 2024, Wedshed reports. Almost three-quarters reported a decrease in bookings in the past 12 months in what Parfett says is a consequence of couples downsizing their weddings.

The University of Melbourne’s Lauren Rosewarne, a social scientist who specialises in popular culture, says some of the factors likely driving couples to reduce their wedding costs are long term.

“It’s unlikely, for example, that life and housing will suddenly become much cheaper, for instance. With that in mind, I think the idea of getting married on a small scale will likely stick around,” Rosewarne says.

Sarah believes micro-weddings will only get more popular.

“[People] just want something that’s affordable but meaningful,” she says.

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