132 designs. Point at one to watch it open, or scroll past it.
Your first names enormous and tone on tone, the invitation crisp and small over them.
Your names as the headliners on a festival lineup poster, the whole weekend billed below them.
Your wedding as a magazine cover story: the cover, then the turn of the page.
A sweet folk border painted in gouache, bows and butterflies and wildflowers, your names in a naive hand.
A bold diagonal cut through a two-tone card, a name either side, a heavy slash between.
Your wedding laid out in rounded tiles of colour, the names, the date and the place each in its own.
A Swiss poster: your photograph, one circle and the date in big numerals, pressed in foil.
A pastel grand hotel, your names on the sign over the door and every part of the day on its own floor.
A two-ink risograph print: a halftone flower, your names enormous, a hair out of register.
A split-flap departures board that clatters into your names. The paper is a boarding pass.
One big heart cut from coloured paper, your names lettered by hand inside it.
Crisp editorial type on warm white, a real highlighter swiped under your names, the date and the reply.
Two transit lines, one for each of you, meeting at the station where you marry.
One great black and white photographed flower filling the card, your names small and editorial in its corner.
Say it in one big sentence: your names, and that you are getting married.
Sixties op art: bands of one ink bending round your names like water round a stone.
Your names stacked tall in light capitals, a line of handwriting running across them.
Your photographs hung in gilt frames, the wedding as an exhibition opening.
Bauhaus circles, half circles and bars in bold primaries, set round your names.
A tennis club card: a crest of crossed racquets, a striped border inside a wavy edge, and Love all.
Your photograph in black and white, your news written over it by hand in white marker.
Your wedding as a till receipt, every detail itemized and the total paid in full.
An arched card, your names following the arch over one fine-drawn flower.
Paper cut-outs in flat bright colour, fronds, leaves, stars and blobs, round your names.
Your wedding as a fragrance launch: thin Bodoni, and your photographs seen through a cut-glass bottle.
A cassette J-card with your names on the spine and the day as the tracklist, side A and side B.
A real lipstick kiss pressed on the card, your names written beside it in red marker.
A low sun behind your names, each letter turning pale where it crosses the disc.
One name along the top edge, the other along the foot, the words quiet in between.
Your news as a text thread, typing dots and all, and the whole site written as the conversation.
A type foundry’s specimen: your names in Bodoni at every size, a flower border in foil.
Your names said over and over along rolling waves, like ripples on water, one calm line carrying them large.
A satin ribbon printed with your names and date loops across the card and ties in a bow.
Your names as a dictionary entry, defined, with the wedding as the first meaning.
The month and the day in great hairline numerals, cut off at the corners.
A dressmaker’s pattern on tan tissue, your names on the pattern piece and every line and notch printed.
Both your names round one great circle, in heavy capitals, the words quiet in the middle.
A wavy frame inked by hand, a little bow, and your names in a loose script.
The words of the invitation run round the edge of the card as its frame; your names fill the middle.
Your wedding month as a fine calendar, the day circled by hand.
An architect’s drawing of a pavilion draws itself, rises in paper layers and lights up, your names on its frieze.
A silk scarf unfolds into the full square, its ornate border in foil, your names in the cartouche.
A brass die strikes the card, the foil film peels away, and light crosses your crest.
A sun print: your photograph and ferns in Prussian blue, silver fern foil.
The whole page is a box maze seen from above. A gold thread finds the way from room to room, to the fountain.
A champagne tower guests pour by scrolling, the names filling as it does. Then bubbles rise through the whole page.
A climbing rose that grows down the page with your guests, opening a flower by every heading.
A Palm Springs pool. Scrolling dives in, and the whole site is underwater, caustic light playing across it.
A painted map of the weekend. The camera travels from place to place as guests scroll, and the route inks itself.
A bright summer art print. Painted cut-outs slide past at their own depths as guests scroll, over blocks of colour.
A painted swan boat on a little pond, tin cans bobbing in its wake.
A painted snow globe, your photo or your names inside the glass, the date on its brass plaque.
A heart-shaped velvet ring box, open, your names on the satin inside its lid.
A candy-coloured rotary telephone, its cord looped into a heart, your date dialled on its dial.
Two café chairs side by side, a name hung on each, a garland of roses between them.
A painted flower cart heaped with peonies and tulips, your names on its little chalkboard.
A painted striped hot-air balloon, your names on the ribbon trailing from its basket.
A tall painted wedding cake, piped and cherried, your names round its middle tier.
A little painted wedding chapel, its doors thrown open on your photo, your initials over the door.
A painted bicycle built for two, wildflowers in its basket, tin cans rattling behind, your date on its pennant.
Your two names signed large, one crossing the other, the details typed beneath.
A giant postmark, your names round its ring and the date in its middle, wavy cancel lines across the card.
One big cut-paper bow, your names lettered on its tails.
A big flat martini glass with an olive on a pick, your names in the glass.
One big cut-paper lemon with its leaf, your names lettered inside it by hand.
Two big cut-paper cherries on one stem, a name in each, lettered by hand.
A painted pastel carousel, horses and all, your photo in its centre and your names round its canopy.
A painted vintage getaway car trailing tin cans, your date on its number plate.
A painted striped beach cabana, its curtains tied back on your photo, your names on its pennant.
A painted pastel gelato parlour, striped awning and all, your photo in its window and your names on its sign.
A handmade ceramic tile, glossy glaze pooled round its edge, your names on the matte clay.
Painted garlands of roses swagged across the top and trailing down the sides, tied with silk bows, your names in a Regency script.
A green garden trellis with jasmine climbing its corners, your names on the white panel inside.
A twisted navy and white rope round crisp sailcloth, knotted at every corner, your names in spaced capitals.
A frame of tiny shells and pearls set in plaster, like a shell grotto mirror, your names in the smooth plaster.
A painted faux-bamboo frame on palm-pink lacquer, your names in a high-contrast serif.
Hemstitched linen, two rows of fine drawn-thread work round the edge, your names in script like an heirloom napkin.
Silk tassel fringe along the top and the foot, like a grand old lampshade, your names in a Didone.
A Roman floor mosaic, a running wave of tiny stone tiles round a cream field, your names in Roman capitals.
A silk organza ruffle all round the card, like the hem of a dress, your names in a flowing script.
A pink plaster wall, green shutters thrown open and a window box of red geraniums, your names on the wall.
Woven rattan cane round a cream linen panel, your names in tall thin capitals.
A fine engraved horse and rider on heavy cream, your names in spaced capitals, one silk rosette.
Honed travertine planes and steps, your names engraved like a hotel plaque.
One dried stem in a stoneware vessel, its long shadow across a limewash wall, your names small in the empty space.
A scallop shell opened on a pearl, on raw linen, and your names in a Didone above it.
Board-formed concrete and one shaft of daylight. The paper presses your names in thin gold foil.
A white plaster relief of roses and olive in raking light, your names cut into the smooth plaster.
Sheer linen drapes in morning light, your names in the bright gap where they part.
Porcelain mended with one seam of gold. The paper presses it in raised gold foil.
Your names typed on a card in a desk card file, every part of the day on a card of its own.
A ski lift ticket with your names as the resort, valid on your wedding day only.
A seed packet with your names as the variety and the details as the sowing instructions.
White pearl paper, your names in an opal sheen that shifts as the card tilts.
A pool table from above, the balls rolling to rest on your date.
Your photos as 35mm slides clicking through a projector, the last one your names.
A fortune-cookie slip that says it plainly: you will be at our wedding.
A natural-wine label with your names as the cuvée and your year as the vintage.
Your wedding as a fashion show: your names as the house, and a seat card for every guest.
A paint chip named after the two of you, and the whole day in tints of one colour.
One continuous line drawing two faces close, noses almost touching, your names small in tall capitals beneath it.
A Moroccan riad wall, a carved plaster arch trimmed in hand-cut zellige, your names in the plain plaster inside it.
A Korean minhwa folk painting of peonies and two red-crowned cranes on hanji, your names in the open paper.
Gothic romance by candlelight: an iron candelabra and black roses, your names flush left in the velvet dark.
A vintage Vegas motel sign lit up at night, your names on its big blank marquee in bulb-white capitals.
A crystal chandelier glittering over a candlelit ballroom, your names in the warm dark below.
Groovy 70s ribbons of stripes and daisies along the top and foot, your names in fat retro script between.
Pen and watercolour inside a Victorian glasshouse, orchids and ferns below, your names in the tall arched window.
Two swans on a misty lake at dawn, painted in oil, your names in the mist above them.
A painted rococo ceiling sky, clouds rolling in from every edge round your names in the open blue.
Watercolour wisteria hanging from the top of the card, your names on the open paper below.
The northern lights over a frozen lake, your names in the dark starry sky between them.
Frost ferns grown in from the edges of a windowpane, your names in the clear glowing middle.
A glowing blur of colour seen through an oval that opens as guests scroll.
The sky follows the scroll, from golden hour to a starry night.
Disposable-camera party: flash pops, film strips, a date stamp.
Frosted vellum lifts off your photo, then everything sits on glass.
Scroll to walk down an aisle of flowering arches into the light.
Your names set in metal type, inked and pressed into a cotton card.
A farm table on the lawn that sets itself as you scroll, candles and all.
The ribbon unties, the lid lifts, and the card inside is your invitation.
A card on handmade paper. Scroll and the garden roses bloom around it.
Sunset on the dock. Scroll and night falls as the lanterns light one by one.
Night falls over the long tables and the string lights come on above your names.
Walk up the hill at sunset until the barn doors open on the party.
An album on the table: the record slides out, spins up and the needle drops.
A clothbound book with your names in foil: the cover opens to your title page.
The velvet curtains part and your names take the stage in the spotlight.
Opens like a real invitation: break the seal, lift the flap.
Watercolor that paints itself in as guests scroll, names lettered by hand.
Iron garden gates swing open and you walk through to the aisle.
A dark room: scroll to light the candles and bring up your names.
