I threw myself a 30th birthday party as big as a wedding (and even wore white). So why did I almost cancel?

“I still don’t know what I’m going to wear to my wedding,” I lamented to a friend as we sat sunbathing in the park.

“You what?” she replied, placing her hand on my arm in concern.

When I realized what I had said, I replied, “Oh dear, this is going to my head a bit, isn’t it?”

Because there was no wedding. And no engagement, let alone a groom. There wasn’t even a boyfriend. But there was a 30th birthday party, which I planned with the grandeur of a wedding.

Last year, at 29, when more of my friends were throwing extravagant parties to celebrate their married status, I felt a pang of jealousy. I wanted to be celebrated, to enjoy a big party surrounded by my loved ones, even if I wasn’t going to tie the knot anytime soon.

So, for my 30th birthday, I decided to throw a showpiece with all the pomp and circumstance that only brides and grooms are allowed to wear. It would last a whole weekend. There would be speeches. A dinner. Cocktails, canapés, and a huge cake. I would even wear white.

This may all sound a bit silly, even crazy – perhaps fittingly, the theme of the party was “Mad Hatter” – but there was a serious point to it. Many of my friends are married – some have children. That means that over the years I’ve spent a fair amount of time (and money) traveling to various parties where society tells us to go all out, even if you barely know your friend’s future husband.

Once the invitation hits your doormat, you’re expected to clear your calendar a year in advance. Wear a fancy but respectable outfit. Pay for a hotel room in a city you’ve never heard of. Post pictures of people throwing confetti on Instagram. Buy train tickets. And so on.

I don’t hate it, nor am I anti-marriage. I’ve enjoyed every wedding I’ve been to, no matter how far I’ve travelled or how much money I’ve spent – ​​the most expensive was £1,000 for a three-day event in the south of France. But having been single for the past two years, I’m beginning to wonder why we reserve this level of commitment for couples who say ‘I do’.

What do singles have left? Which occasions deserve the same level of celebration? When We get our chance to shine?

The answer is never. Not unless you find someone to marry. Only then are you entitled to the same level of attention and adoration.

It’s all a bit old-fashioned, creating a social hierarchy where the couples stand at the top, drinking champagne and eating oysters, while the singles mill around at the bottom of the line, guzzling mulled white wine.

After a few rough months – a combination of health scares, work stress and romantic malaise – I decided a taste of life at the top would be nice. Hence my birthday/wedding extravaganza.

I found the perfect venue: Montigo Resorts at Charlton House in Somerset, which regularly hosts weddings, and enlisted the hotel’s wedding planner to help me organise the dream event.

The plan was simple: guests would arrive on Friday night for a rehearsal dinner in the hotel restaurant, then spend Saturday relaxing in the spa and coming together for a second night, when the main party would take place. I would be staying in the bridal suite with two of my closest girlfriends. Complete with a freestanding bath, private terrace and four-poster bed, it was the ultimate birthday room.

For the invitation I used a website that makes digital wedding cards, where guests are notified six months in advance. I wanted to invite as many friends as possible, 50 people.

When I first told friends about my plan to throw a birthday party like a wedding, a few of them laughed, assuming I was joking. Those who knew me best, however, just laughed.

I was pleased that many people jumped on board immediately, booked hotel rooms and cleared their schedules for the weekend, as I had done for many of them over the years.

But it wasn’t long before I was reminded of my position in the traditional hierarchy.

Many declined, some had already planned a wedding, others because they had young children at home. And a few simply never responded. Of everyone I invited, only one officially RSVP’d with the specially created email address I provided.

Then, in the weeks leading up to the party, there were the dropouts that made me consider giving up the plan altogether. Ultimately, I stuck with it. But work, family, and other commitments meant that only eight people showed up on Friday night, compared to 25 on Saturday.

I get it, and people’s reasons were valid. But would the duplicity have arisen if this was actually my wedding?

There was a part of me that started to regret it in the days leading up to my bash. Had I gone too far?

But that sentiment faded on Friday night, when I was surrounded by a few of my closest friends, laughing at an old photo album my mother had brought along. We finished the evening with a ceremonial Caterpillar Cake (Marks & Spencer, of course) and I woke up looking forward to the big day.

Getting ready in the room with my girlfriends was a highlight, showing off our girly selves and complimenting each other’s outfits while blasting the Spice Girls on the radio.

I threw myself into my role as pseudo-bride, with a pre-party massage at the hotel spa and a facial by celebrity beautician The Skin Sculpter. I also spent hundreds of euros on five outfits for the weekend, including gorgeous Bordelle lingerie.

The first was a white sequined minidress by Miscreants, a London-based brand known for its avant-garde designs. Paired with lace bunny ears, white stockings, and a red jacket with fluffy cuffs on the sleeves, I felt like a cross between a bride and Bridget Jones at that fancy dress party. But in a good way.

For the second look, I wore a hot pink tulle dress by my favorite designer, Molly Goddard – if I ever get married, that’s the brand I would wear for the big day. And for my third and final outfit, I wore a sheer scarlet jumpsuit with cutouts in the front and silver heart-shaped buttons.

As for the party, there was a beautiful stretch tent with fairy lights, balloons from local suppliers, a floral cake and even some live music during the reception. Before dinner we had a BBQ, presented on silver trays in true wedding style. Custom cocktails were served all night long. And my good friend Emma gave a speech, pontificating on the joys of celebrating singlehood in a society that constantly tells women to do the opposite.

To those who turn their noses up at this, or call me a “self-righteous millennial,” I say it’s time to let go of your bullshit traditional values. How much money have you spent celebrating couples? Why are you so limited in your ability to honor the people you love? Stop being so old-fashioned.

It may not have been a wedding, and I may have spent thousands of dollars on one weekend, but my 30th birthday was probably the happiest night of my life so far.

Being surrounded by so much love and joy without having to go on a single date was, honestly, incredibly liberating and fulfilling. All singles should have the right to a night like this. And who knows, if I’m still single by the time I turn 40, I might do it again.