A rice cooker isn’t typically found in a bridal suite. But for Christine Cheng, it ended up being something of a necessity.
On the eve of her mid-March wedding weekend downtown, the Manhattan antique and vintage jewelry dealer arranged herself a hair-combing ceremony—a traditional Chinese ritual related to growth, harmony, and blessings often held on the eve of a wedding and during major life transitions.
One post-ceremony custom is to slurp auspicious tangyuan, chewy glutinous rice balls in sweet soup that symbolize unity, completeness, and sweetness in marriage. There was just one problem. “It’s not really something that you can order from a restaurant,” Cheng explained to Vogue just after the festivities. “But you can get it at the grocery store very easily. So my mom made me bring a rice cooker, and we made it in the room.”
That’s just one way that Cheng adapted the ancient custom—reflecting notions of beauty, femininity, and personal care—to her very 21st-century New York life.
According to traditional Chinese beliefs, hair is an extension of one’s spirit and energy. The act of combing is more than just tidying one’s appearance; it’s a way of nurturing and harmonizing one’s inner self. Each stroke helps distribute and balance this vital energy throughout the body, serving as a form of spiritual and physical cleansing. “I joked this was my Mulan moment,” Cheng smiles, “preparing for not battle but for a very important day.”
The bride learned of this ritual while searching for ways to incorporate Chinese traditions into her wedding beyond lion dancers at her banquet. “I’m proud of my culture, and I try to share it with whomever I encounter,” she notes.
She knew she wouldn’t have time before their morning City Hall appointment for the typical Chinese door games in which the groom has to pass certain tests to claim the bride. (That was a relief to her partner, she noted; the playful, teasing games can be challenging and even embarrassing for grooms.) And having lost her father, Cheng sought something special that would highlight her strong bonds with the women in her family, whom she calls her “support system.”
Hair combing held a natural appeal, blessed as Cheng is with a long, full, and lustrous raven mane. “I don’t want to say my hair is my crowning glory, but it is one of my favorite features that people notice,” she acknowledges. “So I saw the potential for a simple but meaningful ceremony.”
She likened it to mehndi, or henna hand decorations, that some Indian brides have applied before weddings; indeed, Cheng professes that she’s more familiar with weddings of other cultures. In fact, she hasn’t attended a Chinese wedding as an adult, so she hadn’t witnessed a hair-combing ceremony before her own. But, “as a Taurus ruled by Venus, I love beauty and rituals,” she notes, “especially those that connect us to our ancestors.”
Cheng began with an early-evening luxurious soak in water infused with pomelo leaves (from her mother’s Florida garden), believed to ward off evil spirits and impurities. After her grandmother, mother, and sister arrived, they prayed with incense and lit red beeswax taper candles that Cheng had arranged to be calligraphed with the double-happiness symbol; this pair of dragon and phoenix candles symbolizes harmony and a balanced union.
The requisite lady of good fortune—here, a family friend endowed with blessings both material and familial—then combed Cheng’s hair with a vintage gold Buccellati comb for extra-lucky combing. (“You know Chinese people love gold,” Cheng smiles.) The lady recited a blessing with each of the four strokes:
一梳梳到尾 (Yī shū shū dào wěi): “First combing: From beginning to end”—symbolizing a harmonious and lasting marriage
二梳百年好合 (Èr shū bǎi nián hǎo hé): “Second combing: A hundred years of harmonious marriage”—wishing for enduring love and respect
三梳子孙满堂 (Sān shū zǐ sūn mǎn táng): “Third combing: A house full of children and grandchildren”—blessing the couple with fertility and a prosperous lineage
四梳白发齐眉 (Sì shū bái fà qí méi): “Fourth combing: may your hair and brows go white”—wishing for a long and healthy life together
After the final combing, cypress leaves (to ward off evil spirits) bound with red string (signifying the union of bride and groom) were tied into the bride’s hair to secure the good fortune. Then Cheng waited for the dragon and phoenix candles to burn out, about six hours; it’s bad luck to blow out the auspicious candles.
In her own contemporary twist, she invited a few close friends to join her to pass the time, as a kind of impromptu bachelorette party. They spent the evening chatting and relaxing, ordering dim sum, and enjoying tea and sweets, including oranges, longan, dried fruits, and, of course, tangyuan. “It helped me calm down and stop worrying about things like the seating chart and weather,” she reflects. Later, she slept with the cypress sprig tied in her hair and secreted it in her pocket the next day to keep the luck with her; she’s planning to frame it along with the calligraphed card detailing the blessings.
Cheng took pride in the trousseau she assembled for the hair combing, which was far more personal than the one-size-fits-all ceremonial kits sold online. “I’m so connected to objects,” she said, “so I knew I could do it in a way more true to myself and my interests.” Her meaningful items included Qing dynasty hair ornaments made with kingfisher feathers, a vintage YSL hand mirror, a gold Van Cleef compact, long antique earrings with Swiss-enamel flowers, a jade desk clock, and a sewing kit (traditionally a nod to the wifely duties of making the family’s clothes) from a ryokan she and her partner stayed at on the trip where he proposed. Offerings of peanuts, lily buds, red dates, and lucky candies were placed in antique silver butter dishes Cheng brought from home.
The ceremony ended up being one of her favorite moments of the weekend. “I am an anxious person to begin with, so energy was very high ahead of my wedding events,” Cheng reflected. “I had been so stressed and anxious, but I’m grateful this forced me to slow down and breathe. Beauty rituals are a kind of meditation. It was very grounding to be sitting still and have someone combing your hair, which is relaxing in itself. With my family and friends gathered there, it felt so supportive and festive.”
Although the custom is less common today for younger generations, especially in urban areas or among Chinese immigrants abroad, it remains prevalent in southern China, particularly in places like Guangdong, Hong Kong, and Fujian, and among families that are more culturally traditional or have strong roots in those regions.
Nevertheless, when Cheng sourced supplies for the ritual in Manhattan’s Chinatown, some shopowners derided it as old-fashioned. Indeed, she admits her wedding was more traditional than even her parents’, who had only a very simple ceremony as recent immigrants to the United States. It reminded her of a saying in the antique-jewelry world: You don’t want your mother’s jewelry, you want your grandmother’s jewelry. “There’s more mystique and romance attached to it,” she explains. “You didn’t witness that era, so it’s a way to experience it. I’m curious about traditions that connect me to my heritage. This is ancient wisdom in play.”
