everything i know about planning my own hen
all my thoughts, feelings and recommendations. plus 10 rules for planning one, and why i think if a bride-to-be wants a hen, she should pay her own way
At the end of every calendar month, there is this magical moment where my bank balance restores itself to where it was before I spent four weeks paying boring bills, buying yet another pair of trainers and simply existing on this planet in this exhausting financial climate. For a brief moment, I feel financially competent. This feeling does not last long.
Most months, within approximately 2-3 business days of this magical moment, a WhatsApp group chat will be created by a well-meaning woman I have never met, followed by a request to fling her a minimum of £100 to make sure we give [insert soon-to-be-married-friend’s name] the best weekend everrrrrrr. I bow to the peer pressure, the friendship guilt and the FOMO and I say goodbye to the fleeting moment of financial competency. I fling the money, not knowing where it will go (or where I will go, for that matter), what it will do or how much more of it will be asked of me in the upcoming months.
This routine has gone on for the majority of my mid to late twenties, and will continue to go on for the majority of my thirties, too – until the divorce wave hits and we begin again. I am, of course, talking about the inescapable concept of The Hen Weekend.
The Hen Weekend is always well int(h)ended. Traditionally, hen parties (note: not full weekends) started off a fun send off for a bride-to-be, as she entered the institution of marriage. Back in Ancient Greece, the day before the marriage was known as the proaulia, where the bride, her mother and other women in her life would make offerings and sacrifices to appease the gods who might see fit to ruin the day – especially Artemis, the goddess of chastity and childbirth. Not very nice of her, really.
These days, for many Western couples, the transition from unmarried to married now involves less change than it used to. In many cases, couples will have been living together in a place of their own for a good few years before marriage is even on the cards. In 2022, 22.7% of couples in England and Wales were living together without being married or in a civil partnership.
So these days, The Hen Weekend is less of a send off or sacrifice (imagine), and more of moment to celebrate yet another brilliant, wonderful woman in your life – along with all the other brilliant, wonderful women in hers. It’s a lovely concept, really, that should make The Hen Weekend should be a thing of joy. And yet so often, it’s not.
A lot of hens end up being a weekend of far too much organised fun, in weird accommodation, packed with a schedule of things the bride-to-be would never do on a normal weekend – some of which even make her uncomfortable.
A friend told me they’d ended up sleeping in a child’s bunk bed in a room with four strangers, one of who moaned in her sleep. Another said they’d stayed in the husband-to-be’s grandmother’s old country house, which had no running water or indoor toilets. And another told me of a hen where a naked butler turned up with no agenda or games, wearing only a pinafore and sliders that were two sizes too small for him, really showcasing and his long toenails. I am sure there are far worse stories. Please tell me them in the comments.
I know of hens where the costs get too high, so fringe friends (the more casual friends you only see occasionally, or only know through someone else) are invited later on in the planning process to make up the numbers to bring the cost down for everyone else. I’ve definitely been the recipient of a Hen Fringevitation, and that’s fine. In a way, it was flattering. But in another way, it was a request to finance a hen I didn’t want to go on. So I just said no.
It’s these things that have historically put me off attending hens, or ever really wanting one of my own. In my early twenties, the hens I was invited to were those of mainly older friends or relatives. And they all seemed to follow the same format: pick a city in the UK, spend a load of money on a bottomless brunch at a venue with a sticky floor and head out in pink feather boas, ‘L’ plates and then end up in a Pitcher & Piano, with one of your party throwing up and another in tears. At one point, I had a blanket hen ban where I automatically just said no to hens unless the hen in question was a very close friend. This ban once nearly caused a family rift when I declined an invitation to an ex-boyfriend’s brother’s fiancée’s hen. I just didn’t have a spare £350 (or any spare desire) to spend on a weekend in Nottingham.
When it came to getting married myself, I was initially very against the idea of having a hen. For starters, my husband and I eloped without really telling anyone. We did things pretty backwards, doing the legal (but very fun) bit first, followed by a ‘We Got Married’ celebration exactly one year later. We didn’t really think about hens or stags until our friends started mentioning it. ‘Oh but you’ve GOT to!’ they said. ‘Come on, it’d be so much fun!’ they said. The boys seemed to be more excited than the girls, actually – they were all practically begging for an excuse to get together for a boys’ holiday. But also, for an excuse to celebrate their excellent friend.
My friends and family felt the same too. They wanted to celebrate me, and the life I’d already built, and had now committed to, with my husband. It still felt a bit silly to me, and I couldn’t shake off the discomfort that this celebration was only happening because I’d decided to legally bind myself to a man for the rest of my life. There are so many other milestones in a woman’s life that deserve the same spotlight, like moving to a new city, buying a flat alone, leaving an unhappy relationship, quitting a job, getting out of debt or writing a book. When you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, it can indeed feel as though at last, everything has fallen into place. (From experience, I can safely say it’s the best feeling ever.) But, we are so much more than our relationships, and women need to be taught that actually, they’re not the be-all and end-all.
In the end, my husband and I figured that life’s too short (and too hard) to not to grab onto every chance to celebrate the best bits with our best people. After a turbulent few years with my husband’s family, we’d been forced to navigate some pretty tricky waters together. Along the way, we’d discovered that sometimes, it’s your chosen family who can make you feel the most loved, seen and supported. It’s the relationships you make, choose and work hard at for yourself that matter most – whether it’s friends who become family or even family who become friends. And so we decided that we wanted to scoop up those magical people, and use this time of celebratory love to just bask in it all some more.
So, on brand as ever for the both of us, Jonny enlisted his best man, Joe, to organise his stag, very happy to be entirely surprised and unaware of any plans whatsoever. But given my existing thoughts and experiences on hens, the fact we’d already got married and my inescapable inner control freak, I had no desire to ask any unpaid labour or additional stress of any of my friends. Nearly every woman in my life is bursting at the seams right now, whether it’s with work stresses, family demands, relationship woes – or just the reality of trying to function in a life that keeps you feeling like you’re always one step behind everyone else. So I decided I’d organise it myself, arranging all transport and accommodation, planning themes and activities, banning all penis straws and insisting on no surprises at all – instead wanting it to be a celebration of the female friendships and relationships that got me to where I am today.
So alongside wedding planning, moving to, and then back from, Amsterdam, planning a wedding, starting a new job and then moving house – I got stuck in. I mean, when you’re already stressed, what’s one more thing to chuck on the burning pile of chaos?
I settled on Fréjus in the South of France, because it’s my favourite place in the world, where I’ve spent months of my life with family and friends, thanks to the caravan my grandparents have had there since before I was born. I wanted to show my special place to my special people, give them a holiday and be somewhere familiar where things would feel easy – especially if things didn’t go to plan. Also, there was a great deal on a villa with a pool that overlooked the sea.
I invited my closest female friends, my mum, my cousins, my aunties, both of my grandmothers (that’s Nannie and Granny to you) and of course, my own best man, Tom. The youngest of us was 24. The oldest was 80. I’d already introduced the majority of these people to each other at previous birthdays, nights out and dinners, which meant for the most part, people slotted into a vibe of picking up where they left off with someone they at least already kind of knew. Together, everyone formed the best group of humans to have ever existed. No nervous vibes. No tension. No drama. It felt like five days of total escapism from all our life’s worries and woes.
I planned an itinerary and sent it to the group chat beforehand, making sure everyone knew they could opt in and out of whatever they wanted – safe in the knowledge that they were also entirely entitled to spend their days sitting by the pool reading, if they so wished. I set up payment plans that felt affordable for all, covering accommodation, food and drink. We were also all organised enough to bag the cheap EasyJet flights as soon as they were released. The whole trip was just under a year in the making.
We spent our days by the pool, on the beach and on one day trip to Cannes. Each night (not the day) had a loose theme for outfits. We had French Riviera Chic (so like, stripes), All In Orange (as an ode to a very special pair of shoes I once spent too much money on), Barbie (just… pink) Taylor Swift (something that resembled your favourite era, or just the one you’d heard of). My cousin Sally even hand printed (!!!) ‘Who is Emily Powell anyway? Ew.’ t-shirts for all of us. These outfits were donned for a variety of activities hosted by my gorgeous and talented friends. We had quizzes, dinners, karaoke and funhinged wine tasting (more on that later) that left us all laughing until we cried. I banned hen paraphernalia, but Abi, my cousin and maid of honour, did not listen.
When I got back, I spent most of the next working day wiping away tears of joy at how unbelievably lucky I felt to have such truly incredible women in my life. The quest for another reason to do it all again is still ongoing.
WHAT WE DID
DAY ONE
On day one of the hen (Wednesday 29th May, to be exact), two flights of hens landed at Nice airport. One came from London carrying the early girlies, and the other from Bristol carrying the Welsh Mafia – my family and friends from home.
Us early girlies touched down, dropped our luggage at the villa, marvelled at the view and headed down the hill to the beach for an immediate lunch (with immediate rosé) by the sea. We then headed back up the hill (with less ease) to meet the Welsh Mafia and to get our tired brains into the pool, complete with inflatable flamingos (another excellent surprise from Abi), more rosé, crisps and a nostalgic ‘Em’s Hen’ Spotify playlist we’d all spent the last few weeks contributing to. My friend Katie had her first taste of ‘quality pool time’ which in hindsight, was the opening ceremony of her spending more time IN the pool for the five days than she did out of it.
Our theme for the evening was French Riviera Chic, so we all got dolled up in blue, white, red, stripes and sunglasses (obvs) for an Aperol Jonny Knapperol Spritz hour, followed by a wine and cheese night, with a hilarious quiz from Katie – which led into singing and dancing around the table until we literally couldn’t keep our eyes (or mouths) open any longer.
DAY TWO
The second day of the hen was quite possibly best day of my life, to the point where I had a cry in the pool after realising that future days might not get better than this. We had fully charged social batteries. We had more aperols in the pool. We discovered that bowls of crisps float in the pool. We had flamingo races. Everyone was in their best silly billy girlie forms, forming deeper bonds that then ran through the rest of the trip.
Our day was meant to include a Whispering Angel vineyard tour, but upon realising that it would cost us over £800 just to get there in taxis and ubers, we scrapped that idea and my gorgeous friends/comedians Katie and Sanya offered to do it instead – despite having no knowledge about wine whatsoever.
What ensued was the funniest thing I have ever experienced. They Deliverooed wine to our villa and set about fabricating lies, jokes and fake wine traditions for a two hour long sketch as French sommeliers (complete with moustaches, beards and inaccurate accents). We tasted good rosé, we tasted bad rosé. We debated pale rosé and dark rosé. We all laughed so hard until we cried (I actually thought I was going to be sick) and I can safely say it was the greatest Plan B of all time.
For the night, our theme was orange: my favourite colour. I have loved this colour for a long time, but it was solidified as my favourite after I bought a gorgeous pair of orange shoes because they reminded me of my friend Elsie – bright, bold and beautiful. They were from Russell & Bromley and are still, to this day, the most money I’ve ever spent on footwear.
Somehow, my husband’s mother heard about this purchase, and it became another item on her infinite list of reasons as to why I wasn’t good enough for her son. She started telling the mothers of his friends about just how much of her son’s money I’d spent on them (a number exaggerated with every version of this story we heard from someone else) and as such, they became a bit of a legendary item within my close circles – eventually becoming a mascot for never ever letting anyone steal your sunshine. I wore them on my wedding day and dedicated the branding of this newsletter to them, too.
And for the record, reader, I spent my own, hard-earned money on those shoes – and then made that money back by renting them out on ByRotation.
So, with me in the shoes and everyone else in orange outfits, we took our sunshine mindsets down to the beach for dinner where we ate excellent food by the sea, drank more pale rosé, paddled our feet in the water and laughed our heads off again. We came home, sang songs and danced until the early hours again. A perfect day. A perfect reminder to never let anyone dull your brightness, and to never let other people’s comments, opinions and judgements affect how you feel about yourself.
DAY THREE
Day three of the hen was the day we (ok, the Swifties) were all waiting for. It was Taylor Swift day.
Before we all went full Swiftie, half of us donned our red carpet best and jumped on the train to Cannes, where we wandered the old town, sipped some more aperols and had a free round of shots given to us by the owner who heard it was my hen, and took a special liking to my gran. We took in the views, ate lunch on the cobbled streets of the old town, downed one last rosé before our train and headed back to join the more introverted of the gang who’d stayed at the villa to recharge their social batteries, splashing about in the pool and practising their dives. In silence, I think.
When we got back, we changed into outfits that represented our favourite Taylor Swift eras, ready for my fabulous friend Poppy’s epic Swiftie quiz, with performances of favourite songs from those who won rounds and points. My friend Alice and I recreated the time we ‘popped in’ to a karaoke bar in Amsterdam to down one drink, sing ‘Mean’ and leave immediately. My cousins Abi and Sally, and my Auntie Ceri (their mum) sang ‘London Boy’ because it’s Ceri’s favourite Taylor song. Sanya, Alice, my mum and Nannie sang ‘I Knew You Were Trouble’, despite Alice being the only one who knew any of the words. Sally and I screamed ‘Cruel Summer’. We all sang ‘Love Story’. It was glorious.
We ate dinner, Poppy hosted a karaoke night with incredible High School Musical performances from herself and my cousin Olivia. We played card games until 3am and then Alice, Tom and Sally stayed up smoking in the hot tub until 7:30 to watch the sunrise, with Alice asking my Auntie Ceri if she could make her another G&T as she was ‘already up’ making coffee. Needless to say, they weren’t very well the next day.
DAY FOUR
On our final full day of the hen (and final night), we sacked off the original plan to head to the market in favour of lazing by the pool and the beach. Our social batteries were low, our cumulative hangovers were heavy and our ability to string thoughts and sentences together had disappeared. It was a perfect day of lazing, giggling and just existing together.
And to really go out with a bang, our final theme was Barbie – because it was a) easy and b) had dominated so many of the conversations we’d all had since the film came out. I’d seen it in the cinema with my cousins Abi and Sally, and we (ok, mainly me) had all sobbed through the nostalgia and girlhood of it all. It felt like a perfect theme for all of us to celebrate the joy of girlhood, what it is to be a woman through the good, the bad and the ugly.
Just before we went out, Abi revealed that she truly had broken the ‘no surprises’ rule, and broke out a laptop that played an ‘I’m Just Ken’ music video she’d asked Jonny to make, featuring Jonny, his friends, and men from all corners of my life (including my dad, uncles and my Pappy). We all watched it together and died laughing. I don’t think I have ever been so shocked and surprised and overwhelmed.
For our final night, I took my Vampire’s Wife dress from our Vegas wedding out for a second spin (had to get that cost per wear down somehow, didn’t I?) and took everyone down to the port in Fréjus, where I’ve spent countless nights with family and friends over my thirty years. It was so special to bring everyone together in the place I’d loved for so long. Elsie staged an impromptu photoshoot on the carousel I used to beg to go on as a child. At a cocktail bar, Sanya asked everyone to share a funhinged and an earnest memory of me. Some of them made me cry. Some of them made me cry laughing. Some of them will never be repeated outside of our hen safe space.
It was the perfect end to the perfect hen, with the most perfect group of women that teenage Emily could never have imagined being lucky enough to end up surrounded by. Coming home, I felt so full of love and spent the next week at work in and out of happy tears.
MY 10 RULES FOR PLANNING A HEN
So after all that, I had some thoughts. There are things I’m glad I did, and things I should’ve done. Planning the whole thing was A Lot. But planning it myself meant that no one else had to second guess what I wanted, no one had to navigate conversations with people they didn’t really know that well and no one had to add an extra dollop of stress or worry onto their already full plates on my behalf.
In the end, I think everyone had a pretty good time (I mean, they said they did). People went home with their hearts full, their tans topped up and their stress levels slightly reduced. And that was all I really wanted.
So based on a decade of attending hens, and now having organise my own one myself, here are my rules – based entirely on my own thoughts and opinions. Don’t come for me. But do let me know your thoughts, too.
1. COMMUNICATE ENOUGH, BUT NOT TOO MUCH
No one needs another WhatsApp group, really. Especially one with 18 people in it. But when people are parting with time, money and energy – they should know where that time, money and energy is going.
So tell people what you’re planning, and tell them what they’re paying for. Figure out costs up front so people know what they’re committing to. And please don’t just request £60 on a random Tuesday in the middle month for ‘activities’ without further context. People need to budget, ok!
Sharing information and plans in advance will also get people excited and maybe get a few vibes going in the chat ahead of the big weekend, too. And it’ll make things a lot nicer for the bride-to-be if she feels like everyone’s already getting on.
2. CREATE PAYMENT PLANS
Hen weekends are getting expensive. Mine was in the South of France but somehow, still worked out cheaper than other UK hens I’ve been on. Times are tough, everyone has different financial circumstances and priorities and, as I said earlier, people need to know where their money’s going.
If you plan in advance and figure out all the numbers, you can create payment plans to make the weekend feel as affordable as possible. Nominate someone as treasurer (my mum was mine) to manage the finances and figure out a monthly amount that works best for everyone. We did £50 a month. And as we all reasoned when we arrived in the South of France, paying for it monthly and ahead of time meant that it was then technically free. Thanks, girl math.
3. ASK THE BRIDE TO PAY FOR HERSELF
This is probably going to be an unpopular opinion. But ultimately, if you want to have a hen weekend that’s ultimately set up to be all about you, and you’re asking your friends to part with time, money and probably annual leave – I think you should pay your own way too. Especially if you’re also asking someone to organise it for you. There is no other scenario where you’d expect someone to pay for your place, and I don’t see why you making the decision to get married should warrant it.
People spend a fortune on attending weddings as it is. From travel and accommodation to gifts and outfits – a summer of attending weddings is enough to significantly impact your financial situation. If your hen weekend costs £350 per person, an extra £350 coming from the bride can mean you either all have more money to play with and benefit from, or it can cost everyone a little bit less.
On my hen, I paid the same as everyone else for flights, accommodation and a little extra to top up the general fun fund. There were only a few things I didn’t contribute to – and that’s only because everyone insisted I didn’t. On our day out in Cannes, the girls insisted on paying for my lunch. And on our last night, they insisted on paying for my meal, too. I argued against it, but I was overruled and actually, it was such a lovely gesture.
4. BE REALLY CLEAR WITH ROLES AND RESPONSIBILITIES
During the hen planning, the people pleaser, perfectionist and control freak in my met up, joined forces and took over. Not a great combo, really. I initially didn’t ask anyone to do anything with the planning and then when I realised I probably needed to, I was too into the detail to be able to delegate anything properly.
That said, I asked my mum to be treasurer, which meant she was in charge of all things gathering money and spending it, too. The girls who wanted to ‘host’ something were all given an evening each, which meant they were free to plan quizzes, karaoke and (impromptu) wine tasting. Ahead of the weekend, we created a shopping list and assigned cooking and clean-up duties out evenly, so that everyone did their bit. A hurdle for us was that I hadn’t been clear on who would do the shop on the day we got there, so we wasted time and when the girls who did go volunteered, it meant they missed out on prime pool time.
I guess the takeaway is this: if you need someone to do something, be upfront with what you need them to do and when they need to do it. On a good hen with good people, you’re very unlikely to find anyone who won’t want to pitch in and do their bit.
5. PITCH IN
On that same note, if you’re not a person who has a specific clear role, you should still pitch in. This isn’t even just about hens – it’s about all holidays or group outings. Does something need cleaning up? Do it. Did someone forget to organise transport? Find options. Does the person who is in charge of organising something need a hand? Help them. Has a plan gone wrong? Figure out solutions. You’re all in this together, and you just really don’t want to be that person who sat around doing nothing, not pulling their weight. Everyone will notice.
6. REMEMBER THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T KNOW EVERYONE YOU’RE INVITING
Ok this one wasn’t applicable to me. It would’ve been weird if I’d invited people I didn’t know. But if you’re planning a hen for someone else, chances are that you don’t know every single person on the bride’s guest list. Find out answers to questions like whether there are any dietary requirements, health restrictions, allergies, disabilities, preferences etc. Try to get to know them as best as you’re able to ahead of the big weekend, and plan things that work for the majority – with options for those who don’t want to (or can’t) always go with the flow. Not everyone wants to spend three hours learning a dance routine to a Spice Girls song.
7. INVOLVE PEOPLE ENOUGH, BUT NOT TOO MUCH
If you’re organising the hen on behalf of the bride, lucky you. This probably means she trusts you the most to get this right. That said, the bride is likely to have invited women from many different corners of her life to her hen. And chances are, some of these women know the bride in a different context to you – and this should help you shape your plan.
For example, maybe the bride did love going to Revolutions for flights of vodka shots when you were both 18 and living at home, but maybe she doesn’t anymore now that she’s 30 and living in London. Consult those who can give you snapshots of different times of her life, and weave those insights together to make decisions that feel fully reflective of what she might actually want to do.
Remember that you’re also asking people to spend a lot of time and a lot of money on this weekend. So give them the opportunity to input on what you all do together. Share details. Get people excited. Let people feel that they’ve shaped this epic weekend in some small way.
8. DON’T PACK THE SCHEDULE WITH TOO MANY ACTIVITIES
There always seems to be a temptation with hens to plan for every minute. And while having activities and specific events over the course of a weekend is great to bring everyone together, too many can be exhausting – especially if they’re all compulsory. Chances are, you’ll be a mixture of introverts and extroverts, so if people want to go off and have an hour or so to themselves, let them. At one point on my hen, my friend Sanya sat in the hot tub reading her kindle alone. At another point, half of the group decided they didn’t want to get the train to Cannes, so they just hung out by the pool instead. Flexibility is key to joy, I think. As is giving women the freedom to relax.
And when choosing activities, maybe ask yourself (on behalf of everyone else), ‘would we actually ever really want to do this in real life?’ Who knows, maybe all 18 of you usually spend your weekends making penis pottery. But if you don’t, it’s probably best to keep things fun, but (mainly) relatively normal. Remember, people are spending their hard-earned money on this.
9. DON’T TAKE FANCY DRESS TOO FAR
I saw a post on Instagram recently where a theme on one night of a hen weekend was ‘Rixo dresses’. You know, those dresses that cost like, £200 each. Insane. If you’re doing themes or fancy dress, try to make it as accessible as possible, choosing things that could easily be created by something already owned, or easily found on Vinted. Then, those who want to spend, can. And those who don’t want to, don’t need to. Trust me, your pals will thank you later.
10. DON’T MAKE IT ALL ABOUT DRINKING
Easier said than done, I know. My hen was very much centred around drinking rosé, because we were in the South of France (duh). It was also very centred around Aperol Spritzes too, because they’re orange and also I love them.
But I’d like to think that it was still a good environment for those on the hen who weren’t drinking, too – and that’s important. Try to keep things so that those who aren’t drinking can still very much be involved and enjoy the vibe. Oh, and if someone’s not drinking (or is clearly pretending to drink, even) – don’t go asking them why they’re not. It’s none of your damn business.
That’s it. That’s everything I know about planning my own hen, and the 10 rules I’d live by if I was doing again. Which I’m not. I’ve decided that planning my own hen means I’m exempt from being tasked with planning anyone else’s. How sneaky of me.
The five days I spent on my hen are up there with the best days of my life so far. It really was phenomenal. But that wasn’t because of the planning or the organising or the tiny little details (though all of that helped, of course). Really, it was because all of the women (and the one best man) who showed up for me are some of the greatest people I could ever have dreamed of knowing. And what an unbelievable privilege that is.
This sounds like a really lovely trip. My sister got married this summer and we did something similar- our mom, the groom's mom, and a close aunt all came. We took two days to lay around the pool at our aunt's place, went out for a nice meal, and went dancing one night. Including more than just the bridesmaids helped the vibe a lot- it felt like the sweet celebration of my sister that it should be!
Striking a balance between celebrating the women you love and what you can afford (monetarily, mentally, or motivationally) to do for others is difficult. It's petty and ridiculous, but I struggled with some jealousy during the two months before my sisters wedding. I'm younger and in school still, so it was a little hard not to covet her nice new dishes.... eventually, what I realized was that I wasn't really interested in the attention or gifts or experiences she was having. I was just deeply anxious that my friends and family will never be as interested in my pursuit of a PhD as they were in my sister getting married. I told my mother in confidence and she assured me there will be a full house to watch me defend in a couple years, and the weight was lifted.
I imagine there's a lot of women who struggle with emotions around weddings. There's so many expectations for a mind-blowing, beautiful, elaborate day. For women who can't find the right person, or don't want to get married, or regret their marriage, or didn't have friends who showed up for them, or any number of situations, these blow out parties are hard to wrestle with. It also helped me to remember that the alternative to my sister being celebrated so much was not be celebrated at all, and I would never want that! I'm glad I was eventually able to get over my jealousy and anxiety and not let my sister know, but wow that was a tough emotion to deal with!