Ever daydreamed about being the mastermind behind a wedding shoot? Not just snapping pretty pictures, darling - we’re talking about capturing the big day, where hearts collide, mascara runs, and I have precisely zero room for “Oops.”
This isn’t dress rehearsal territory - it’s go-time. So let’s rewind. The couple booked me a year ago (wise choice), we’ve been whispering sweet logistics ever since, nailed the pre-wedding shoot, and now… cue dramatic music… the wedding is TOMORROW!
Lights, lenses, legacy — let’s make magic.
Day before the Wedding
Before the big “I do” day, there’s a tiny dose of hustle - just enough to wake up feeling zen, caffeinated, and ready to rock those vows like a photo ninja.
So, here’s my holy grail checklist I religiously follow before every wedding shoot:
- Drop a swoony text to the bride, fangirling over how excited I am to capture her day - and subtly letting her know I'm not ghosting her. I’m coming, camera in hand and sparkle in my soul.
- Gear up like a boss. Batteries? Charging. Lenses? Pampered. Cards? Emptied. Basically, it’s camera spa day.
- Peek at the schedule to remind myself where I’m headed and what I’m up to. These days, I could shoot at half these venues blindfolded - but hey, we respect the ritual.
- Check GPS so I don’t accidentally end up at a llama farm instead of the chapel. I aim to arrive fashionably early (read: 5 mins), just to set a tone of suave and swagger.
- Give the car a loving pat and top up the petrol - because nothing kills wedding day glam like a pit stop panic.
Morning of the Wedding
Rise and shine, darling - the big day is here and I’m practically vibrating with excitement.
First things first: breakfast. Not a dainty nibble, but a glorious feast fit for a camera-wielding gladiator. If I could eat the whole fridge, I probably would. Wedding days are no snack break zone!
Right, time to roll. Final pre-launch mission check: gear’s in the car (hallelujah), but let's be paranoid just one more time. Are those batteries actually in the bag and not having a solo charging party in the kitchen? Are all cards accounted for? No stragglers? I’m not about to arrive with an empty SD slot and a tear in my eye.
Let’s go make magic happen - preferably with zero tech mishaps and a belly full of eggs.
Groom Coverage (45 mins – 1 hour)
Time to slap on my game face and strut into groom territory like the unofficial hype squad with a camera! As soon as I walk through that door, it’s smiles, handshakes, and charm - making sure the groom’s cool, calm, and not halfway through a panic nap. I get acquainted with the key players (yes Mum, yes Dad, yes Best Man with suspiciously fancy socks), because if everyone vibes with me, the camera magic becomes ten times smoother.
Now, while some photogs love to wing it and live dangerously - I’m more “strategic ninja” than free-spirited fairy. I’ve got my sacred shot list like a pirate has their map: every frame planned so not a single cufflink or cheeky beer toast slips through the cracks. And since I’m usually crafting epic wedding albums, you bet I’m thinking like a storyteller from the first snap to the last sparkle.
Here’s how I roll when groom coverage kicks off:
- Detail dive: rings, cuff links, and all the shiny things before the chaos begins. Gives me chill time. Gives the boys breathing room.
- Venue scope: find that room with dream lighting, minus rogue laundry baskets or random cat photobombs.
- Boys getting ready: shirt wrangling, tie taming, cologne cloud moments.
- Groomsmen combos: group shots, solo poses, high-fives optional.
- Groom portraits: yep, he gets a mini modelling moment too.
- Beverage bonding: beers, scotch, maybe a sneaky gin. Cheers!
- Family shots: mix-and-match magic with all the lovely humans.
- Fun squad chaos: the lads attempting suave... and sometimes failing gloriously.
- And yes, more groom portraits - because good lighting is a gift.
Bride Coverage (1.5 hours – 3 hours)
Buckle up, buttercup - bride coverage is where the glamour meets chaos, and I’m right in the middle with a camera, caffeine, and maybe a rogue eyelash stuck to my lens.
While it’s technically similar to groom coverage (80% of the rules apply), this side of the wedding prep is like entering a glitter bomb with legs. More colour, more emotion, more squeals. It's like photographing a rom-com, live on set.
I kick things off with the detail shots - rings, flowers, shoes, the perfume bottle that cost more than my camera strap. While I channel my inner Vogue stylist, the bride squad is in full fluff mode: curling irons blazing, lip gloss flying, and someone always yelling “WHERE’S THE EYELINER?”
Then it’s go-time for the glam parade:
- Details laid out on the bed or table, styled like they belong in a museum... or a high-end Pinterest board
- Bridesmaids assisting the bride while simultaneously losing bobby pins and sanity
- Combo shots with the bridal tribe, serving looks and smiling like they invented it
- Dreamy portraits of the bride - by the window, on the bed, floating in glorious pre-wedding glow
- Champagne cheers - at least one shot of a cork hitting the ceiling, another of a bridesmaid accidentally chugging
- Family photos, all the hugs and awkwardly adorable line-ups
- Bonus portraits if time allows - because the bride deserves more drama than a Netflix finale
And then? It’s hydration time, snack scavenging, and a dramatic dash to the ceremony like a caffeinated photography ninja.
Ceremony
Let’s set the scene: if everything’s happening in one venue, hallelujah - it’s smooth sailing. But toss in a city drive between bride prep and the chapel, and suddenly I’m a wedding ninja dodging congestion, hunting for parking, and whispering a prayer that I get there before the bride does her grand reveal. Eighteen years deep and still no mishaps... knock on wood, kiss a lucky lens cap.
Now, when the vows start, it’s basically theatre - and I’m front row with a silent, stealthy camera. I don’t control what happens, I just dance with it, dodging low lighting and charming yellow hues that scream “hello, church ambience.” And I secretly live for it. The DIY vows? Yes please. Emotional sniffles? I'm there with ninja reflexes and tissue-level empathy.
Here’s the must-grab magic list:
- Bride’s entrance: majestic, emotional, cue dramatic soundtrack - but honestly, it’s the groom’s face that’s the goldmine.
- Sweeping wide shot of the church from the back like we’re in a cathedral-filled rom-com.
- Intimate close-ups during vow exchange (bonus points for tearful smiles).
- The big moment: rings sliding onto fingers. Zoom. Capture. Cherish.
- Emotional parents: if a tear drops, I’m catching it faster than your aunt catches the bouquet.
- The KISS. I’ve missed it once. ONE time. I still think about it. I have trust issues now.
- Signing the papers - proof it all really happened.
- The grand exit: I do my signature reverse strut through the crowd like a camera-wielding spy, snapping as the couple beams through the confetti storm.
Outside, weather gods permitting, the guests swarm like joyful bees to their queen and king. Here’s where I go full photo ninja:
- Wide angle to capture the atmosphere and crowd size - basically, proof the wedding was lit.
- Sweet, squishy close-ups of congratulatory hugs from parents and siblings.
- The sprint begins - weaving through guests to snag family groups, friend squads, and maybe a confused distant cousin.
Then comes the crucial cue: guests start drifting or the bride hits her social energy limit (you can see it in her eyes - the smile gets twitchy). That’s when I swoop in with tact and sparkle, wrangle their attention, and rally everyone for those all-important group shots before someone escapes to the bar.
Family Shots.
Ah yes - welcome to the post-ceremony hustle, where the confetti’s settled but the group photo chaos is just getting started. At this point, the bride’s heels are plotting against her, the groom’s tie is slightly wonky, and everyone just wants snacks and shade. It’s my cue to step in like a glittery drill sergeant with a camera.
This is where I grab my trusty ladder (aka throne of authority), channel my inner stand-up comedian, and rally the crowd like it’s a flash-mob audition. A few cheeky one-liners, dramatic hand gestures, and some strategic clapping usually gets the human bouquet of guests loosely resembling “organized.”
Then it’s go-time for the group shots - mix-and-match combos like it’s photo-speed dating:
- All the cousins whose names I’ll never remember
- Parents with proud grins and slightly panicked expressions
- That one friend group that insists on doing a pyramid for reasons unknown
- “Just the bridal party!” “Now just siblings!” “Now everyone who owns a dog named Bentley!”
It’s rapid-fire posing meets crowd control, with the occasional baby photobomb and rogue uncle trying to re-direct the lineup. I shoot for variety, spontaneity, and at least one shot where no one’s blinking or sneezing. If the bride and groom start looking like they’d rather elope mid-shoot, I wrap things up with a big cheer, a few dramatic flourishes, and send them on their way to cocktail hour like the heroes they are.
And we are off again! To my favourite part of the day, THE PHOTO WALK!
Buckle up, shutterbug - we’re heading into the photo walk zone, my all-time favourite chapter in the wedding saga. This part feels like a stylish getaway with the bridal couple, where everyone’s loosened up, the beers are flowing, mascara’s holding strong, and the ceremony jitters have officially left the chat.
While the vibes are relaxed and cheeky, this is my personal photography Olympics. I'm the lone ranger armed with a camera, racing the sun and dodging parked cars while trying not to fall into a bush mid-shot.
Here’s the chaos I lovingly embrace:
- Snap wall-worthy portraits of the couple that scream "We belong in a magazine!"
- Hit up a mix of dreamy, quirky, and downright cinematic locations
- Play with creative compositions like I’m staging a rom-com montage
- Get the couple laughing, dancing, possibly re-enacting their first awkward date - all while keeping things irresistibly fun
- Avoid photo déjà vu - no copy-paste posing allowed
- Watch the time like a hawk in heels so we don’t end up chasing the sunset
- Move between 2 or 3 gorgeous-but-totally-different backdrops - nature? Urban chic? Random field with vibes? I’m there
- Battle the usual suspects: traffic, harsh lighting, bizarre clutter, parking drama, rogue photobombers
- Plus, we need a photoshoot moment for the wedding transport - whether it’s a vintage Rolls-Royce or a decked-out tractor, I will make it look iconic
The photo walk is basically a beautiful rollercoaster - part fashion shoot, part scavenger hunt, and 100% memory-making magic.
Reception
Cue the confetti cannon - we’ve officially hit the final chapter of the wedding whirlwind: the reception! It’s the part of the day where I swap out my ninja photographer energy for “elegant fly-on-the-wall with a zoom lens” vibes and let the joyful chaos unfold.
Now, this bit has a touch of ceremony déjà vu in terms of unpredictability - things happen fast, people toast enthusiastically, and someone’s uncle inevitably attempts the worm. My job? Channel my inner photo wizard and snatch up every precious moment before it disappears into the champagne haze.
I usually stick around until the first dance - because let’s be honest, everything leading up to it is pure gold and everything after? A blur of dad moves and disco lights. Here's how I roll through the reception spectacle:
- Snap candids of guests living their best lives: laughing, hugging, occasionally suspiciously eyeing the dessert table
- Get those glam shots of the venue itself before it's conquered by stiletto-stamped chaos
- Capture all the little details - dreamy cake closeups, table décor, name tags (some funny, some typo’d)
- Announcements time: the couple and bridal party strutting in like royalty, usually accompanied by cheers, whoops, and one dramatic twirl
- Snag some stylish shots of everyone seated, pretending to gracefully sip bubbly while secretly starving
- During dinner? I go into stealth mode - recharge, snack if I can, and prepare for the incoming cake-and-garter mania
- Cake cutting, bouquet toss, garter theatrics, and occasionally a game that makes me question humanity... I’m snapping it all
- The first dance: the big, romantic moment where the couple sways, spins, and sometimes giggles through a choreography they forgot three seconds in
- Then the dance floor opens - and that’s when I unleash the wide-angle lens to capture the glorious mess of people doing conga lines and “interpretive flossing,” all with the couple shining in the middle like the stars they are.
After the Wedding
Oh, you thought I’d kick off my shoes and collapse into a post-wedding daze? Ha! Not so fast - there’s one final ritual before the pyjamas and wine make an appearance, and it’s non-negotiable.
This is my sacred, don’t-even-think-about-skipping-it, camera-clutching golden rule: the cards must be uploaded *immediately*. Doesn’t matter if I’ve been running on cake fumes or if my feet are making angry speeches - I march to my computer, plug everything in like a caffeinated gremlin, and initiate *The Great Data Dump*.
No snacks. No scrolling. No Netflix. Just me, nervously watching that upload bar like a reality show finale. Only once I’ve triple-checked those files (yes, even the weird ones accidentally snapped during lens cap chaos), *then* I can breathe and transform back into a human again.
And if it’s a double-wedding weekend? I morph into prep mode: batteries charging, cards wiped, gear polished like it’s prepping for the Oscars, and my caffeine strategy revamped for round two. Sleep is a concept. Passion is the fuel.
