Nilufar Sizdahkhani once fantasized about an extravagant wedding, with hordes of adoring spectators and a white ball gown that would make her feel like Cinderella.
Her real wedding wasn’t such a spectacle, but her divorce party is shaping up to be.
Instead of ivory satin, she’s wrapped in a black minidress and wearing platform boots that clunk when she circles her apartment near Union Market. There are no table centerpieces, but her kitchen island is overflowing with shot glasses and bottles of bubbly. And unlike her 2021 wedding — which took place in a courthouse — this gathering includes a dozen of her closest friends.
Divorce rates may be declining, but celebrations honoring the snipping of a marriage license have steadily gained popularity. Searches on social media for “divorce cakes” and “divorce party games” are surging; retailers have responded with “Fresh Start” registries and sassy party decor.
Sizdahkhani is posing for iPhone photos, middle finger up, under a shimmering gold banner that reads “End of an Error.” Across the room, her friends are throwing magnetic darts at photos of her ex-husband. When they down shots, they yell “F— that guy!”
Maybe it sounds petty. But to Sizdahkhani, this night isn’t about her ex, or even about their divorce. It’s about her freedom.
Divorce “is such a huge life change, just like getting married,” she says. “Why not celebrate these huge moments in life just because they’re sad? Why not celebrate starting a new journey?”
She might not have become a wife at 23 were it not for the immigration case.
Sizdahkhani met her ex at an Arlington restaurant where they both worked while she was finishing her degree in interior design. The attraction kept them together when he moved back to Serbia, his home country, their relationship still without a label.
Since he had overstayed his visa, he wasn’t permitted entry into the United States for a decade. Sizdahkhani used all her paid vacation days to visit him in Serbia. She scheduled FaceTime calls and took her sisters to meet him.
After a year of dating, he proposed. They got married at a courthouse. But the cracks were already forming.
She was in a nine-year age-gap relationship with someone in a different time zone. His immigration process was complicated by delays.
The final blow came over the summer, when he told Sizdahkhani that he’d changed his mind: He wanted to stay in Serbia. And his attraction had petered out.
She saw a therapist.
Then she heard about divorce parties.
“It started off as genuinely just trying to pick myself up and make myself feel better,” she says.
About 40 of Sizdahkhani’s friends and relatives — old bosses, two sisters, women she has known since middle school — are pouring into Salazar, the 14th Street bar in D.C. hosting her party.
Sizdahkhani, now 27, is not usually a planner. But having something to focus on while she was grieving her relationship kept her “looking forward to the light at the end,” she says.
The invitations went out weeks ago — not a save the date with curly script but an invitation with instructions: “Come dressed in black, funeral-style … ready to celebrate the end AND the beginning.” The Spotify playlist (“Thank U, Next,” “Single Ladies” and other breakup bangers) she gives the DJ is almost 10 hours long.
Instead of a towering confection with soft white frosting, her cake is red velvet and heart-shaped, with “Just Divorced, Still Delicious” scrawled on top. She adjusts her black veil as she accepts a forkful from a friend.
With a giggly group, she’s discussing a crush she has flirted with on Instagram. “I sent him a smirk emoji,” she says. “That’s bold of me. I don’t send smirk emojis.”
Someone announces that it’s time for the piñata with the clipped-on photo of her ex, and she takes a punch.
After several gin-and-tonics, she moves with the crowd to another bar for dancing. Strangers notice her “Just Divorced” sash and congratulate her. It’s a show of support she didn’t expect.
Divorce, she says, “doesn’t mean I failed in life. It’s just a part of life. … This is everything but a failure.”
She’s still in the midst of legal proceedings, but tonight feels like a turning point.
Tomorrow, she can be anyone — on her own terms.
The post Her marriage ended. Instead of crying, she threw a divorce party. appeared first on Washington Post.
