We’ve all been there: maybe you’re scrolling on Instagram during a break at work. Maybe it’s when you first wake up, or when you’re taking your morning pee (I know, TMI), and you see yet another post about someone you know getting married. Not only were you not invited, but you also didn’t think you’d be obsessing over someone else’s wedding—zooming in to guess the exact carat weight of her ring, staring at her dress trying to figure out if she got it from Azazie or not…

I was listening to the podcast How to Build a Life with Lori Gottlieb, and she said something that stopped me in my tracks:
“Envy tells us something about desire… Follow your envy. It tells you what you want.”
For the longest time, I confused envy with jealousy. I didn’t want to be “that” jealous person—the one who’s possessive or suspicious. According to emotions researcher Dr. Brené Brown, jealousy is when we:
“Fear losing a relationship or a valued part of a relationship that we already have.”
Envy, on the other hand, is an emotion that involves only two people. In her Atlas of the Heart, Brown defines envy as wanting something that someone else already has—like a wedding. It could be envy for the wedding itself, for the stage of the relationship that person is in, or for the perceived cost of the celebration.
I realized envy had been showing up in my life long before I got engaged. I used to judge women who seemed to have it all—designer shoes, flawless makeup, a polished vibe. But deep down, I wanted to show up like that too. I wanted the confidence, the ease, the effortless beauty. And when I started brainstorming for my wedding, that envy resurfaced—this time at brides who had taught their gowns from Kleinfeld, lavish floral decor, or the kind of lighting that makes every photo ok like it belongs in a magazine.
The shift came after hearing the podcast, stopped seeing envy as a shameful flaw and started seeing it as a clue. If I envied a friend’s intimate candlelit dinner reception, it wasn’t about “copying” her wedding—it was about recognizing that intimacy and warmth were things I wanted in mine. If I envied someone’s couture gown, it wasn’t about feeling “less than”—it was a reminder that feeling glamorous mattered to me, even if I found that glamour at a different price point.
Here’s what I learned: envy doesn’t have to be toxic. It can be a quiet compass, pointing you toward the wedding choices that will actually light you up.
So—whose wedding have you felt envious of? What about it called to you? And more importantly, how can you use that as inspiration for your own?
