Emily Lapkin

A Boston resident plans her wedding from afar.

We got engaged on a trip to New York City in August 2004. And as preoccupied as I was with my shiny new ring and the bustling surroundings, I yearned to get back to my laptop in Boston, where I could start planning our Palm Springs wedding from afar. I grew up in Palm Springs; and though I hadn’t lived there for more than 13 years, I couldn’t imagine getting hitched anywhere else. A hometown wedding for me, a sunny destination wedding for the groom and our friends — it would be a perfect combination.

I counted on the perfect weather, serene setting, and that the event would evoke the midcentury modern glamour for which Palm Springs is known. Sadly, Martha Stewart couldn’t get a furlough to help me with the task, so my work was cut out for me. With promises of emotional support from my fiancé and financial assistance from my mom, I set out to turn my dream wedding into reality. At times, it seemed more like a reality show. I started by spending a few hours (OK, nine) staring at Weather.com’s historical temperature index in an effort to pinpoint the perfect date in April. After much comparison and some good arguments from my husband-to-be about why I needed to step away from the computer, we settled on the 16th — sunny and dry, not yet too hot for an entirely outdoor event. When the sun went down and the breeze kicked up, our guests would fall in love with our desert paradise. At least that’s what I hoped.

Soon I’d assembled a dream team of vendors.

In October, I made a trip to Palm Springs to interview the top prospects in person. There were a few things I had to know: Could they create a bouquet that would allow me to receive additional flowers from my best friends as I walked down the aisle (my idea for a meaningful processional in the absence of my late father)? Would they promise to work without goat cheese (popular stuff, but my own personal Kryptonite)? Could they create a quick, nonreligious ceremony that would prevent my guests from sitting in the sun too long, please my atheist groom, and not offend my Jewish family and Protestant in-lawsto-be? And, most importantly, could they provide written proposals outlining exactly what they’d deliver — ideally something fabulous yet budget-friendly? My picky requests whittled down the field, and soon I’d assembled a dream team of vendors (Desert Cities Catering, Garden Artisans, The Pastry Swan Bakery, and officiant Cathleen O’Connell). I also stumbled upon a picture-perfect venue: the Orbit In.

And yes, that’s “In” with one “n” — a quirky little detail, yet one that caused plenty of deliberation when it came time to prepare save-the-date mailings and invitations. Would I print it as written and risk getting frantic phone calls alerting me to the “typo” or insert an extra “n”? (As it turns out, I left it as written and, yes, they did call!)

Our guests would fall in love with our desert paradise.

About two months before the wedding, I made another visit to the desert. It was time for a hair and makeup trial run, and I knew exactly where to go: Salon 119, owned by Michele Lassak, the same woman who gave me my Palm Springs High School prom do (a flip with unteased bangs) in 1991. The wedding hairdo (a more modern style) was great, but my now-Northeastern complexion, which had promptly sizzled after a day of errand-running, didn’t give the salon’s makeup artist much to work with. Amazingly though, she managed to cover up my beet-red face, which convinced me she had the skills to camouflage any skin snafus that might surface on April 16. She had the job.

As the RSVPs came in, excitement mounted. At least seven guests told us they were thrilled to be heading to the beach. Pool, we corrected. A few who checked out the Weather.com temperature index worried about the daytime highs. That’s when I found myself uttering the unofficial motto of all desert towns: “It’s a dry heat.”

Soon the big weekend arrived. Our guests moved into the rooms around the pool at the Orbit In, which made for two nights of casual pool parties leading up to the main event. We splashed and frolicked in the water, gathered around the fire pit, and swapped stories. Those who didn’t know each other became fast friends. Jus as planned, as soon as the stars came out and the balmy breezes blew in, they fell in love with the desert paradise otherwise known as my hometown. And the wedding went off without a hitch.

Palm Springs Pointers

Planning a wedding in the desert? Here are Emily Lapkin’s been-there, done-that, learned-the-hard-way tips:

• Don’t go by the official sunset time when planning your ceremony. Because Palm Springs has mountains at its western edge, it starts to get dark the minute the sun slips behind them. If you’re planning your wedding from afar, ask one of your vendors to make a note of when this happens in relation to the official sunset time. (The farther east you are from the San Jacinto Mountains, for example in Rancho Mirage or Palm Desert, the less noticeable this is.)

• If you’re going to have your cake on display outdoors, you’ll need a fondant (solid, marzipan-like) frosting. Butter cream will melt away in the warmth of the sun.

• Remind (no, urge) your guests to wear sunscreen. People (like me) who live in cooler climates may burn easily, especially if this is their first real sun exposure after a long, cold winter back home.

• Need some alone time? Give your bridesmaids directions to the Trina Turk boutique and send the guys to a local golf course. Mission accomplished.

• Don’t fret too much over your guests’ accommodations. Their happiness will be directly proportional to the proximity of the pool.