Narrative is the guiding force in my work. If I’m styling a dining room table, for example, I think about who is hosting the gathering, who they would invite, and what the menu might be. Those details may never make it to the final photo, but they help inform my choices. Sometimes the narrative runs so deep, and I lose myself in the story, in a good way, in an exciting way. This was one of those narratives!
I imagined a bohemian bride, indifferent to forced customs and traditions. This is an unpredictable girl, smart, funny, beautiful… the type of girl he fell in love with upon first glance, and he held on tight, lest she up and depart cross country on a whim. He popped the question early, too early for their families’ sake, but they knew in their hearts they were meant to be together, forever.
Maybe she decided today was as good as any to get married, and they’re bound for the courthouse despite the mother and sister who sit at home planning a formal church wedding, in which her respectable father will walk her down the aisle. Her father will understand. She always had a mind of her own.
She couldn’t find her lipstick, but she had to have red lips. Now she’s late, and she’s rushing, but those red lips part as the smile spreads across her face. He’s waiting for her, at the courthouse, and she’s late, rushing to prove her love and calm his nerves. He’s not as adventurous as her, but he loves that about her.
There’s no horse-drawn carriage, or limo, or “just married” sign with tinkering tin cans for this girl. With bouquet in hand, she hails a cab, and as the cabby looks at her smiling, she blushes and says “Downtown. To the courthouse, please. I’m getting married.”
She arrives with less than a minute to spare, but she gives herself one last primping, rouging those lips one more time and tucking a loose lock behind her ear. It’s time!