Recently, I read in the news that the wedding hall business in Japan is facing tough times. Even in my own city, two venues I knew of have closed their doors in just the past few years. According to a report from 2024, over 30% of Japanese wedding halls are running at a deficit, and if you include those whose profits have declined year-on-year, nearly 60% saw their business worsen last year.
It’s not hard to see why. With Japan’s population rapidly aging and the number of young people shrinking every year, there are simply fewer couples tying the knot. On top of that, the sluggish economy means that fewer newlyweds have the means (or desire) to splurge on lavish receptions. It seems likely this “wedding winter” will only continue.
That said, the very way weddings are approached is quite different in Japan and the United States.
In Japan, getting legally married is as simple as submitting a marriage registration form, signed by two witnesses, to your local city office. There’s no legal requirement for a wedding ceremony at all—it’s entirely optional. You can have a big event, a small one, or skip it altogether and you’re just as married in the eyes of the law.
By contrast, I got married in California, where a ceremony is actually part of the legal process. After obtaining a marriage license from the County Clerk’s office, you must have a solemnization (the official ceremony) with witnesses and an authorized officiant within 90 days, then return the signed license to make your marriage official. In our case, one of my husband’s friends generously volunteered as our officiant, and I have to say—our wedding remains one of my happiest memories.
Because I’m a Japanese citizen, getting married in America didn’t magically update my official documents back home. I had to submit my American marriage certificate, along with a marriage registration, to the city office in Japan.
Japan has been debating the idea of allowing married couples to keep separate surnames, but as of now, the law requires both spouses to share a family name. You’re technically free to choose either the husband’s or wife’s surname, but about 96% of couples opt for the husband’s.
There is, however, a special rule for international marriages: Japanese citizens are allowed to keep their original surname if they wish. In my case, though, I actually wanted to take my husband’s last name, even in Japan, so I made the switch on all my Japanese documents as well.
Getting back to the state of wedding venues—why are they struggling? One major reason is simply the cost. According to the “Zexy Wedding Trend Survey 2024,” the national average for a Japanese wedding (ceremony plus reception) is a whopping ¥3,439,000 (about $23,000), with an average guest count of 52 people.
Unlike the U.S., where wedding guests usually bring gifts, Japanese wedding receptions are funded in large part by cash gifts from guests, presented in decorative envelopes called goshugi-bukuro (ご祝儀袋). Friends typically give ¥30,000, bosses around ¥50,000, and so on. The entire system is built on the expectation that the bride and groom will recoup much of their wedding costs through these monetary gifts.
If you want to dig into the etiquette, there’s a whole world of rules: for example, you’re supposed to give crisp, new bills in odd numbers— like, three bills of ¥10,000, but never an even number. Even numbers are thought to be unlucky, since they can be “split” and thus symbolize a divided relationship. So even if you’re giving the same amount, handing over six ¥5,000 notes would be considered a faux pas. The bills should also be brand-new, to celebrate the couple’s “fresh start.” Honestly, I suspect most of us, including myself, roll our eyes at these elaborate rules and think they’re a bit much, but nobody wants to be “that guest” who flouts tradition and makes things awkward, so we go along with it.
Personally, I never had any desire to invite acquaintances I wasn’t particularly close to, let alone throw a glitzy reception funded by expensive gifts from distant friends. For me, the ideal wedding was exactly what I had in California—a small, intimate ceremony surrounded by my husband’s closest friends and family.
