Dear Elon Musk, if you’re reading this, I urge you to pull your funding from current and planned SpaceX missions and pour it into building a time machine so that we can zip back in time and stop coronavirus. Sincerely, AK Expressions (on behalf of every agitated bride, frustrated groom, angry mother-in-law-to-be and irate wedding supplier). 

Sadly, you know as well as I do that Musky Musk is unlikely to read a Suffolk wedding photographer’s blog (unless he’s planning his fourth wedding to take place on the romantic Suffolk coast - I’m sure X Æ A-Xii would approve, if he could talk). In which case, I’m probably not going to get my time machine and this virus will still be here when I wake up tomorrow.

If you’re wondering what us wedding suppliers are doing at the moment, I’ll let you in on a little secret: we’re going batsh*t crazy. I have turned to TikTok (of all places) to keep myself entertained. I even had a crack at making some videos myself, recreating some classic wedding shots using Barbie and Ken dolls. In the end, I just ended up reenacting the erotic puppet scene from Team America. It wasn’t productive at all, and ultimately never made it to TikTok, but it sure did pass the time.

However, what has cheered me up is seeing the many brides-and-grooms-to-be posting on Facebook about how they’ll ‘never take anything for granted again’, that they’ll ‘never complain about life’s small issues’ and that they’ll ‘appreciate family’ so much more in future. Let me clarify, this hasn’t cheered me up because it’s positive and tear-jerking and all that crap. It has cheered me up because I’m laughing about how, when this is all over, half the people in these Facebook groups will go back to being complacent and pedantic, and they’ll forget all about those relatives that they appreciated so much.

Yes, that’s right, I’m talking about you, with your doorstep photo shoots and your Instagram captions about how you love being able to spend so much time with your kids and your other half. Is that really your reality? Or are you at your wit’s end because you can’t figure out why xy = n, and your 13 year old is having a mental breakdown because they’ve figured out that no one actually does algebra in the real world? Has your partner quadrupled your water bill because they usually go to the toilet a dozen times per working day, and their bowels can’t seem to work out that they’re not in the office? Are you so sick of queuing outside supermarkets for half your week that you’ve actually weighed up the benefits of starving yourself and losing all your lockdown weight?

When I read your captions about love and togetherness and promises for the future, I hope that the above isn’t actually your reality and that you’re just kidding yourself. Because it would be disappointing if we came out of the other side of lockdown and went back to being our grouchy and unappreciative selves. 

And this is even more important if you’re a bride or groom who has had to postpone your wedding. Sure, it’s a horrible situation, but you’ve promised yourself that you’re going to make your wedding even better next year, whether that means holding your tongue when your other half reveals their choice of bridesmaid/groomsman, or avoiding decapitating your wedding planner when they tell you that ‘it’s just not possible to coordinate 15 swans to fly in formation overhead when you say “I do”’.

Keep those promises. Make 2021 YOUR year (or some other unimaginative ‘inspiring’ statement). Because if you don’t, the wedding boogeyman will come for you, and he’ll put penis straws in your guests’ Champagne flutes when you’re not looking.

Maybe I’m asking too much. Or maybe I’m being too cynical. I hope it’s the latter. Either way, I’m still waiting on that time machine, Mr Musky Musk.

I’ve noticed that the only people who say that ‘age is just a number’ are old people who are sensitive about their age. Sure, there’s all that theoretical ‘time is a construct’ crap (which, coincidentally, is only used by people who are always late), but if we’re talking about age as a biological process that none of us can escape, getting older just means you’re inching closer to heaven/hell/purgatory/the Flying Spaghetti Monster’s noodly arms.

However, to avoid depressing you in the first paragraph of this post, I’m going to talk about something that transcends age. It’s something that all of us crave; something that, sadly, some of us may never find in our lifelong quest for it. Some people might even come across it more than once in a lifetime - and they’re the really lucky ones. Yes, that’s right, I’m talking about the world’s best gin.

Just kidding. I think you all know what I’m talking about (please don’t make me say it).

As a wedding photographer, I’ve seen couples of all sorts who have found this special ‘thing’. Without wanting to insult any of you, I’ve seen mismatched pairs that have consisted of a 6’5”, 300lb groom and a 5’0”, 90lb bride - and, yes, they probably have a hell of a time making that ‘thing’. I’ve seen a bride who votes Tory marry another bride who supports Labour. I’ve seen an angelic-looking librarian put a heavily tattooed MMA fighter in a headlock during their first dance. Up until recently, I thought I had seen it all. But I was gleefully mistaken.

I was hired for a wedding recently by a very happy couple who had just got engaged. All was going well; I talked on the phone with the bride-to-be, we set a date for the pre-shoot, she mentioned that her fiancé was quite a bit younger than her. I thought nothing of it - just another shoot - until the day rolled around and I met face to face with the bride and her teenage (albeit legal) fiancé, with an age gap of over 20 years.

Suddenly I had flashbacks to my childhood days when I dreamt that I would wed Princess Leia. She would, of course, have worn a gold bikini. I would’ve worn a suit with my favourite security blanket in tow. Unfortunately, in my case, the boyhood dream never materialised. For this lucky couple, the dream came true.

Anyway, we did the shoot and it went well. I would have loved the bride to show up to the shoot dressed as a cougar catching its prey. I even bought some fake blood for the moment of capture. But, just like my boyhood dreams, it wasn’t meant to be.

Fast-forward to the intimate wedding day and the novelty of the age gap had worn off. I was expecting a similar level of emotion that I see at most of my other weddings - maybe a small tear here, a catch of the breath during the vows there - but I was once again proved wrong as the groom began breaking down and blubbering as soon as he saw the bride walk down the aisle. It was like he had just been told that someone had assassinated the Teletubbies and he was no longer able to watch them with his morning cereal. In all my years, I had never seen such a display of emotion.

Suddenly, my entire career flashed before my eyes as I recounted the many young couples that I had seen; perky twenty-somethings marrying other perky twenty-somethings. They were so proud of the fact that they knew how to take the perfect wedding selfie and post it on five different social media accounts simultaneously, and that everything on their bodies was still pointing upwards. They professed their love for each other through heart emojis and boomerangs for the entire world to see - yet, when it came to the big day, they were as flaccid as a handshake during a coronavirus outbreak. Zero enthusiasm. In a lot of cases, not a single tear fell - unless it looked good for the camera.

It got me thinking: is age just a number after all? And no, I’m not just saying that because I’m getting soft in my old age. Think of it as a wake up call. Show your emotions; tell the person you found that ‘thing’ with that, actually, they’re not so bad and you wouldn’t mind being married to them for the rest of eternity. Cry over them like your favourite Teletubby has been assassinated. The Flying Spaghetti Monster is waiting to be impressed.

How would it feel to be a cod fish in a sea of tuna? You might feel a little lost, possibly wondering why everyone else is swimming in one direction while you’re trying to get somewhere else. At the end of the day, we’ll never know, because we’re not fish (although I wouldn’t mind being a fish at a time like this). But I imagine this might be what it feels like to be a gay couple at a ‘straight’ wedding fair.

You walk in, confident, looking for freebies, pleased to hear Madonna playing through the speakers. But when you stride through to the main hall where all the exhibitors are congregated, Champagne in hand and ready to haggle, all you see are those huge, great wooden letters spelling out the words Mr & Mrs, swathes of pink and white fabric samples, and smug couples strutting down a makeshift catwalk. At first glance, those letters may as well spell out ‘turn around, you meringue. You’re not wanted here.’ Meanwhile, the straight couples on the catwalk may as well be shagging, just to rub it in your face.

So you feel like a cod fish in a sea of tuna. At least you’re not a fish out of water, flapping around somewhere like… I don’t know… The Westboro Baptist Church. Think about it like this: all of these exhibitors can help you throw an amazing wedding - even if it may not look like it on the surface. Sure, a cake maker might not have a three-tiered rainbow extravaganza (complete with mini pride flags) ready for you to sample, but I’m sure they’d be able to clear out an unsuspecting Lakeland store’s coloured dye section in order to make you one. To all the suppliers that I’ve made friends with over the years, business is business, and they’re not likely to turn you away if you want something as simple as Mr & Mr lettering on your wedding stationery. They might be a little weary about printing ‘F*** you, straight people’. But I’m sure that’s never happened.

However, I know that it’s not the same experience for everyone. I once photographed a lesbian wedding where one of the brides had previously approached a tailor asking for a suit for the big day. The tailor apparently got very animated and proposed a hot pink monstrosity, with a nipped-in waist and peep-toe heels (she had never worn heels in her life). I asked if she slapped the tailor Cher-style and shouted ‘snap out of it!’. Unfortunately, she didn’t; instead, she ‘accidentally’ caught her handbag on the thread of a vintage Armani suit, pulling off an entire sleeve. Oops.

With that in mind, I totally get that some wedding suppliers can be clueless. However, we’re not all like that. When it comes to your wedding photography, a camera doesn’t discriminate. A photo is a photo. The only time that a camera might not like you is if you’re invisible, or maybe on fire. But then, to my knowledge, I don’t think I’ve photographed any of The Fantastic Four.

And in terms of the person behind the camera - which is really all that matters - I don’t care if you’re straight, gay, bisexual, one-dimensional, have 14 different personalities, or identify as a tree. If you buy me a bottle of gin, I’ll count you among my very close circle of VIP clients. You won’t get any physical benefits from being in my circle, but I can guarantee you that it’s a good thing.

So, next time you’re thinking about going to an LGBT wedding fair, give a ‘regular’ wedding fair a go. There’s a chance that I might be there, and if so, come and say ‘hi’. I like to think of myself as fairly non-clueless (I still don’t understand Grindr, but then, having been married for so long, I’m hoping that I’ll never need to). But if I manage to say something out of line, feel free to slap me Cher-style, and I’ll get the memo.

It’s a weird time right now, isn’t it? Who thought that our generation would experience world war-level lockdowns? And, even weirder, that it wouldn’t be due to a penis-measuring competition between Trump and Kim Jong Un, but instead the actions of an unsuspecting, bat-eating individual (sadly not the Joker, although I’m sure Batman is relieved that he’s not the victim of cannibalism). Whoever said ‘one person can’t change the world’ clearly never ate an undercooked bat.

Many of us have had our lives, and our livelihoods, severely disrupted. I know many parents who are holding themselves back from selling our children on eBay, while the rest of the child-free population has nothing else to do but create Carole Baskin memes. And things are going to get even tougher for everyone stuck working from home with their other halves - at least I’ll have the chance to shoot the weddings of those on their second marriages in a year or so.

But seriously, life has been difficult over the past few weeks. Especially on the gin front. With a lack of weddings to shoot, I’ve exhausted almost all the gin that was gifted to me by my clients. As many creatives will know, being inebriated sometimes encourages you to release your creativity, to go places with your work that you’ve never gone before - and not just the toilet bowl at 3am after a greasy kebab. I’ve had some of my best eureka moments after my third or fourth gin of the day. But recently, my life has consisted of staring at my office wall and contemplating whether I should just get on with my regular editing work in my uninspired state, or muck in with some household chores.

Unfortunately for my wife, work always wins. Or should it be ‘fortunately’? After all, if I’m cooped up in my office where she can’t see or hear me, then I can’t annoy her, can I? It’s been around a month after the lockdown measures were introduced by Boris, and we’ve had zero arguments. I’ve left her alone, divided what’s left of the gin between us both, and mucked in with the cooking rota (I make a mean beans on toast). I think we’ve found the recipe for the perfect marriage. But, just to make sure, I’ll update you in a month or so. That’s if she’s not slowly poisoning me at this very moment.

If, by the end of all this, you haven’t beaten your partner to death with a spatula to make it look like a dreadful kitchen-poltergeist accident (damn, I’m giving my wife too many ideas), might I suggest eloping for your wedding? Let’s face it, you’re going to need a holiday, and getting away from the family that you’ve spent so much time with during the last few months will be the icing on the cake. Leave the kids with their grandparents, save money on invitations (who even wants their third cousin at their wedding anyway?), and jet off somewhere exotic. You can get the paperwork out of the way, then head straight to the beach for your ‘wedding breakfast’ of pina coladas and paella. Sounds idyllic, right?

However, if you’d rather stick to your home turf, that’s fine. And if you’ve already booked with me, I’ll even hold your dates for you if the offer of gin is there. Well, I’ve got to keep my cupboard filled somehow, don’t I?

Whether you want to plan the wedding of the century, or you just want your big day to be a little different from what your mates have planned, it’s not that hard to be original when it comes to your wedding - you just need to get creative.

Why throw an original wedding? I attend dozens of weddings each year as a photographer, and that means that at least half of those will be carbon copies of each other. I have to make sure that I keep a note of the date, or I might think that I’ve accidentally taken a long nap and woken up at the same wedding. Your guests probably won’t ever attend as many weddings as I do, but even three identikit weddings in one year can render each one completely forgettable. Imagine the embarrassment when your BFF can’t remember if she saw a page boy wrangling a herd of goats during the vows at your barn wedding, or her colleague’s? A truly unique wedding will remain in your guests’ memories for a lifetime - as well as yours.

What is an original wedding, though? We talk about ‘mainstream’ and ‘alternative’ weddings as if they’re black and white, but the truth is, there’s no right or wrong when it comes to originality - that’s what’s so great about it. However, there is just one rule to remember when planning your wedding: make it about you. This is your day, therefore, it should feel natural to you, not your Instagram followers, as seems to be the case these days. Your friends and family should arrive at your venue and know instantly that it’s your wedding, not think that they’ve crashed someone else’s big day.

I’ve wrangled a herd of my own for this blog post - but not goats (sadly). Instead, I’ve contacted the best of the region’s wedding suppliers and ask for their opinion on how to bring originality to the table on a wedding day. So, without further ado, let’s look at each element of your wedding and find out how to put your own spin on the celebration!

Photography

‘Wait a minute,’ you’re thinking. ‘He can’t talk about himself!’

Well, you’re wrong. This is my blog and I’ll cry if I want to. Before you tuck into this blog post, I’m going to set the record straight when it comes to wedding photography. 

Wherever you’re getting married, there will probably be a range of photographers in your area with varying styles. You may already know what you’re looking for, and think it’s just a case of scrolling through portfolios until you find a photographer who fits your vision; however, just remember that the photographer themselves is a real person, with quirks, a personality and, indeed, their own vision. This means that, though you might like their style, it may become apparent that you don’t mesh with them in person - and if this is the case, you won’t want them following you around all day at your wedding and interacting with your nearest and dearest.

As you may not be able to meet up with each and every wedding photographer you come across and interrogate them until you’re satisfied, the short way of finding your photographer is to read the ‘about’ section of their website. This will likely include some information about their style and their experience, and give you some insight as to who they are as a person. 

My ‘about’ page, for example, talks about how I got into photography at the age of nine and how I carry myself at weddings. There’s no denying that I bring personality to a wedding day, as well as really unique images which showcase who ‘you’ are, so I like to make that apparent in my biography.

Venue

The team at Bruisyard Hall, a magnificent, historic country estate and wedding venue in Suffolk, say that “every wedding should start with the bride and groom’s tastes, wishes and dreams. The venue should suit the couple's character and be somewhere they really feel at home. We believe that if you feel at home somewhere you will be more expressive and instinctively know how to personalise the venue.”

I couldn’t agree more. When buying a house, we spend plenty of time finding the right property that ‘feels like home’, that we should know instantaneously when a wedding venue feels just right. Again, you may already have an idea of the kind of venue you like; but a bit like attending a property viewing, you might arrive and realise that it wasn’t what you thought it would feel like. It’s important to pay attention to that instinct, instead of ignoring it and focusing on the fact that it might look nice in your photos. If you feel awkward or uncomfortable in your venue, it’s going to show on the day.

The experts at Bruisyard continue, explaining, “To make a wedding original it has to be about you, with perhaps a touch of inspiration from social media and those amazing photos found in the first wedding magazine you bought!” 

Instagram, Pinterest and wedding magazines exist to share and inspire, and there’s no reason you shouldn’t take advantage of them. Perhaps you might come across a post that your friend has shared, advertising a wedding venue that you never knew existed - you would have been none the wiser if you didn’t search for a little inspiration! What you then decide to do with that inspiration is where the originality and personality comes in, and as Bruisyard Hall reiterates, your wedding has to be about you.

The cake

How many weddings have you been to where the bride and groom spend an extortionate amount on a cake, which never gets eaten? It happens a lot more than you think. Mostly because, by the time the wedding breakfast is over, the vows have been said and the music has started, most of your guests are thinking about which wine they’re going to have next - and cake doesn’t quite go with wine. But do you know what does? Cheese.

A cheese wedding cake is a delicious alternative to a traditional cake. Just ask Clare Jackson from Suffolk-based cheese deli Slate Cheese: “Cheese wedding cakes look amazing when they’re decorated and create a magnificent centrepiece. They present a delicious spread of artisan cheese once the cake has been disassembled. They are also an economic way of providing a second wave of food; they can be used as a centrepiece for a traditional evening buffet to provide lots of energy for dancing into the night, or as part of the main meal with accompaniments such as bread, crackers, condiments and fruit.”

There are two ways that you can create a really unique arrangement with a cheese wedding cake. One is by decorating the cake to match the theme of the wedding using colourful ribbons, flowers and herbs, or even quirky toppings and surrounds. The other hugely important way to personalise your wedding cheese cake is in the choice of cheese; you could pick your favourite cheeses or those which have a certain significance to your relationship.”

You can tweak your cheese selection to not only suit your tastes, but also to cater to guests dietary requirements. You can select pasteurised or unpasteurised cheeses, vegetarian and non-vegetarian.”

Examples of Slate’s wedding cheese cakes can be found on their website. They have three set cakes which can be dispatched by courier nationwide, or you can opt for a bespoke design which can be delivered and assembled by one of their team if your wedding is based in Suffolk, where Slate’s delis are based.

Theme

“What colour napkins should we go for?” a jaded bride-to-be asks her other-half on yet another late night, months before their wedding, surrounded by samples of cloth which all appear to be the same shade of beige. He shrugs and promptly falls asleep, before having a nightmare about a beige coloured monster forcing him to eat beige food in a beige room, wearing beige clothes, for the rest of his life.

Sound familiar? Probably not. But it’s a glimpse of what could happen if you decide to follow the same old wedding trends that we see time and time again. The truth is, many weddings fall into the colour scheme of beige, cream and off-white because these hues don’t really age, and they can be paired with almost any other colour without causing too much of a headache. But this also means that they’re sensible - and who wants a sensible wedding? No one has ever recalled a wedding and said, ‘we had a fantastic time; it was very sensible!’.

If you’re thinking about your wedding theme, why not take that term literally and opt for a real theme? I’d be ecstatic to photograph a Star Wars-themed wedding. I’d even glue a couple of Belgian buns to the sides of my head if someone lent me their gold bikini. No takers?

Flowers

Following Meghan and Harry’s wedding (and in the years following almost every royal wedding) there were insurmountable brides who chose a natural-looking white and green bouquet for their own wedding days. While these bouquets did well to make up for the ten-tonne trail of froth that Diana dragged down the aisle (nothing against Lady Di - just her flowers), the style doesn’t have to be adopted by every other bride in England, especially keeping in mind that each specific flower has a link to Kate/Meghan and the Royal Family.

Instead of treating your bouquet like the latest handbag/phone/car (delete as appropriate) that everyone wants to get their hands on, try to think like a royal instead of act like one, and choose flowers which suit your personality, represent your family, or have significant value in your relationship. 

Again, I think the ‘many shades of beige’ rule applies here. Don’t just choose a bouquet because it goes with your theme - unless, of course, you are indeed opting for the Star Wars theme and manage to find flowers that look like the various members of the cast. If your favourite flower happens to be a purple rose, but you’re worried that it will contrast with your decor, just remember - the only person that will care about that clash is you! Nobody, and I mean nobody, is going to stop and think, ‘she should’ve picked flowers which were a couple of shades lighter’ as they watch you walk down the aisle. So if you want to include that purple rose that means so much to you, just do it.

The DIY route

If you don’t want to spend all that money on flowers, you could try making your own bouquet using crepe paper or other materials. This means that you’ll save yourself the added cost of a freshly arranged bouquet of flowers, and you can even keep your bouquet for years to come.

What about making a statement and crafting your own bouquet from pieces of recycled plastic to show your love for the environment? Or collecting flowers from your garden and drying them out to produce a really unique dried flower arrangement? The DIY possibilities are endless.

Other wedding flowers

Of course, your bouquet probably isn’t the only bunch of flowers you’ll have to think about for your big day. Many couples choose to have flowers as part of their decorations, too. Depending on your budget, you could opt for a huge display of your chosen blooms as a wedding arch, or set up a flower wall, table centrepieces, wreaths, and more. 

But why stop at just flowers? Guests are used to seeing flowers at weddings, but you’re sure to get a few double takes if you include other unique elements in your flower arrangements. From the simple (fruits, pearls, ribbons), to the eye-catching (marshmallows, seashells, disco balls), to the downright outrageous, grandma-scaring floral arrangements (fake rattlesnakes, aubergine emojis, and even underwear), I’ve seen a few corkers in my time. While the former tend to blend together, I’ve never forgotten asking a Gen-Z bride why there were aubergines in a floral centrepiece, only to be told that I should send one to my wife and find out (P.S. the wife was not amused).

What to wear

Bridal wear

Although many of us might believe that brides have worn white since the invention of marriage, that couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, the white wedding dress trend is just under 200 years old. It came from Queen Victoria, who wore white to wed Prince Albert - but she didn’t wear it to symbolise purity and virginity as we might have thought. She actually wore white because she liked white. 

This brings me to my main point - you don’t have to wear a white dress to your wedding. Sure, if you really like white, and it suits you, and you don’t care about the possibility of staining it during your wedding breakfast, then by all means, wear white. However, if you don’t like the thought of wearing this traditional wedding dress shade, then no one should be forcing you to. 

Before Queen Victoria’s wedding, many women wore their nicest dress, whether it was green, pink, blue, white, or whatever colour they fancied. Some even wore patterned dresses (could you imagine the uproar?!). So why not restart the trend and choose a colour that you love, that suits you, and that will make you feel like a million pounds? Or wear a suit. But that’s a whole other post.

Groomswear

Ah, poor grooms. We’re a little limited in how much we can experiment in terms of wedding clothing. Suits are the name of the game, and sadly, there’s not a lot to choose from. That being said, there’s far more scope for variety if you look further afield than wedding shops. 

Instead of heading straight for the nearest wedding suit rental company, shop around for something more unique. After all, many will only stock certain colours. There’s the traditional black shade, the more contemporary navy or grey, or, for a summer wedding, beige. That’s about it. 

Of course, if you want to play it safe with the colour for fear of upsetting your mother-in-law to be, there are other ways you can incorporate your own personality into your wedding outfit. And I’m not just talking waistcoat and bowtie dilemmas. 

What about a top hat? They’re rarely seen these days, and they do look rather splendid with a tailcoat. Then there’s the boutonniere - the tiny flower arrangement that is pinned to your left lapel. And of course, jewellery. Whether you wear an earring or several, a chain, a wristwatch, or a face piercing, your wedding day is a chance to treat yourself to something a little more exciting and unique.

Music

Once the ceremony is over, there’s nothing your guests will love more than a good, old-fashioned party. Some will run to the dancefloor at the first beat of the Macarena, while others will shudder in anguish; either way, you’re never going to please everyone, so you may as well have fun with your music.

However, the age-old dilemma is: should you hire a band or a DJ? There are pros and cons to both, but typically wedding bands are more likely to be chosen as an expression of the kind of music that you like, while wedding DJs are usually hired to play a selection of music that will suit as many people as possible.

There are many different types of wedding bands available, covering a whole range of genres, from electro-swing to motown, and everything in between. However, be aware that although a vast range of genres are on offer, a single band will most likely specialise in one type of music, which can be limiting if you like lots of different styles.

Bands are more of a ‘showy’ choice of wedding music, simply because they tend to cost more, but they certainly give you a tonne of benefits for your money, including live vocals and/or instruments and a realistic, personable stage presence. If you’re looking for that from a DJ, you’ll possibly have to pay a lot more.

On the plus side, whatever your budget, DJs are armed with thousands of songs. Some may also take requests, which is perfect if you’re happy for your great aunt to request Build Me Up Buttercup. A more skilled DJ will be able to display their professional mixing abilities, affording you the choice to turn your wedding reception into a full-on Ibiza rave (if you so wish).

So, which option will give your wedding an original touch? How about both? Some DJs partner with live performers, from singers to saxophonists, to give you and your guests the best of both worlds. A unique solution to that age-old dilemma!

Conclusion

I could say that it’s easier to follow the trends and go for the same wedding options that thousands of other brides and grooms will have chosen - but it’s not. It’s so much easier to plan your big day how you would really like it to look and feel; the knack is to pinpoint what you’re passionate about and what best represents your love. From that point, it’s plain sailing.

And if you do fancy a Star Wars-themed wedding, I’ll be here waiting.

Look at you, sitting there, with your cup of tea in one hand and your phone in the other, scrolling through your feed like you haven’t got a care in the world. I wish I was you. I wish I hadn’t been exposed to the horrors that I’d seen in the wedding industry. These deep, dark, horrors keep me up at night. They make me scream out into the darkness and call for my mum. They make me want to curl up under a blanket and tuck in my limbs so that they can’t grab me from under the bed. They’re called ‘trends’. And I hate them.

Here’s why.

I like to keep up to date with my industry. Even though I’ve got my own style of photography and my own way of being… well… me, it’s never a good thing to be ‘set in your ways’, as they say. Therefore, it’s in my interest to keep up to date with the industry. That means buying the occasional magazine, scrolling through Instagram, and perusing the many wedding sites that seem to multiply like a vengeful strain of coronavirus walking into a party and screaming, ‘hey, I’m here for a good time, not a long time’.

Over the past month, I’ve been dissecting the usual media, and on my perilous journey I’ve seen the same old re-hashed title rearing its ugly head on every blog, hashtag and news article in my vicinity: ‘2020 wedding trends’.

2020 is a big year for weddings. There’s no denying it. Call it a spiritual thing, call it superstition - call it what you like. Some people view this year as ‘lucky’ and, therefore, they want to sprinkle some of that luck on their marriage like hundreds and thousands on a doughnut (oops, I’ve already given a ‘trend’ away). I don’t have a problem with it - after all, it means more tallow in my pocket - but what I do have a problem with is the lack of originality that goes hand in hand with following trends.

I’ve already talked about why I find unoriginality so boring, but now I want to go into more detail. That’s right, you’ll have to endure me whining about wedding trends for the next few hundred words. Try reading the rest of the blog post in my voice - it’s a guaranteed migraine.

Doughnut wall
Getting married in summer? Great. Let’s pour a load of sticky, pink icing on some doughnuts, hang them from pegs on a wall, and watch them all melt. Even better if your little jerk of a nephew decides to chuck one of those dress-ruiners in your direction.

Flower wall
What’s with people sticking things on walls? Next it’ll be a ‘vegan wall’, where you can hang vegans when they complain about the amount of egg at your buffet.

Giant Love Letters
Five years ago, with led bulbs, four years ago outside bulbs, three years ago with reclaimed wood, two years ago no bulbs, one year ago with dry flowers and now with balloons. Hope in 2021 someone burns them all.

Candy station
Remember that nephew of yours who ruined your dress? Well, he’s just overdosed on sweets at the candy station, and subsequently karate chopped the DJ so that he could play Baby Shark ten times in a row.

Photo frame within a photo
Want to try a unique and fun optical illusion which doesn’t require you to hold up a photo frame and pose inside it? Great. When you think of one, let me know.

Dance routine entrances
It started in 2009 with the famous JK Wedding Entrance Dance, and it should have stayed there.

Flower crowns
Do you really want to look like your wedding took place at Coachella between a drugged-up Miley Cyrus and 2000 selfie-taking ‘influencers’?

Naked cakes
Your cake is cold and embarrassed. Cover it up!

Of course, this is my take on this year’s wedding trends. But you don’t have to go by my rules. You don’t have to go by anyone’s rules, apart from your own. It’s your wedding - remember that. Let’s see what you’re made of.

If you’re a Star Wars fan, nice to meet you. I’m Avi. Wedding photographer and fellow fan (sadly, we don’t have a cool moniker like ‘Trekkie’). If you’re not a Star Wars fan, maybe we have something else in common, like a love of gin? If not gin, then ginger (hair) might suffice - although I draw the line at beards. Everyone has one of those these days.

I saw Star Wars Episode IV – A New Hope when it was first released in theatres in 1977. I don’t remember it (I was a baby at the time), but my granddad later told me that I was enthralled by the whole thing and I didn’t cry once. I’d like to say the same now, but I did shed a tear at the end of the latest film. Not because I was sad that it was the final film in an epic series spanning 42 years, but because I was playing around with my pop-up lightsaber that I bought from the merch stand at the cinema, and jabbed myself in the eye.

I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t really recall my first wedding, either. All I remember was putting on a £30 suit and being offered lots of gin. The next thing I knew, I woke up in a hotel room with a ring on my finger and a pounding headache. I don’t get hungover after drinking gin, but how was I supposed to know that the disco ball wasn’t fixed to the ceiling when I jumped from the second floor gallery?

Of course, the weddings I attend these days are a lot more tame. Being a professional, I don’t tend to engage in drinking while I’m on the job. Although, if you’re new here, I never turn away a bottle of gin as a ‘thank you’ gift. 

Anyway, back to Star Wars. I was extremely eager to see the latest film. So much so that I almost did something illegal *gasp*. However, my plan was foiled. After trying to find a pirate copy of Episode IX online, I stumbled across a video which was a little unsettling. I didn’t realise what I was watching until I spotted the names of the characters in the synopsis: Girth Vader, Princess Lay-her and Hand Solo bring anything to mind? There were all kinds of sabers flying about. I decided to turn it off because I imagined it might spoil the real thing. Star Wars, I mean. Not the other thing.

In the end, I settled for slumming it in the cinema with the commoners. Nevertheless, the film inspired me, as always. I don’t think I’ll start a resistance and overthrow an empire any time soon, but I’m keen to let Star Wars influence my work a little more. Even now, I think of my camera as my lightsaber - my weapon of choice. True, I’m not going to slice your flower girl in half with it; but it empowers me to take great photos and defeat evil (by ‘evil’, I mean the Uncle Bobs who turn up to weddings with their Nikon D3500s thinking they’re the next David Bailey). 

Don’t worry, if you book me as your photographer, there won’t be some Jedi-obsessed virgin incel with transparent skin and red eyes turning up at your engagement shoot. And if there is, that’s just my albino brother, Tony. I bring him along to jobs sometimes to get him out of the house.

In all seriousness, unless you bring up Star Wars, I probably won’t talk compulsively about it. Instead, you’ll get, fun, creativity and Canadian humour (just don’t ask me to say ‘eh’). And, of course, a load of brilliant photos at the end of it.

Here’s your yearly reminder that my gin stock is running low, and my liquor cabinet is starting to look very sad. Although it’s the season of giving, I’ve noticed that the ‘giving’ part of that sobriquet has gone a little dry - too dry for my liking. In the slightly edited words of Captain Jack Sparrow, ‘why is the gin gone?’.

Without wanting to sound entitled, I’m used to gin being a bit more abundant around my house. When wedding season is in full swing, I’m graciously accepting more bottles of gin than Adele accepted Grammys in 2017. People wonder why I’m clinking when I try to discreetly schlep them from my car to my front door without my wife seeing - you see, she drinks gin too, and sometimes I can’t help but save some of the best bottles for myself.

I guess you guys have cottoned onto the fact that I like gin by reading these blog posts or looking at my Facebook page. I couldn’t make it more obvious if I got ‘GIN’ tattooed onto my forehead. But please don’t challenge me on that - if this posts gets a million shares (is that what it takes these days?) then I won’t be getting a tattoo; I’ll probably just quietly celebrate inside my house, with a bottle of gin.

Talking about celebrations, it’s almost time to toast the New Year. And what’s the best way to do so? In my opinion, drowning out Jools Holland’s Hoote-whatsit with a slurred rendition of Auld Lang Syne, getting so arse-over-tit drunk that you miss the fireworks, and throwing up a kebab and chips on the way home. But for the sake of maintaining some semblance of professionalism, I’ve decided to instead reflect on my favourite moments of 2019.

I’ll start with a Money Dance, which took place at a Greek wedding earlier this year. Let me tell you - these guys really know how to receive wedding gifts! I watched through my viewfinder with delight as the newly married couple danced around the room while their guests pinned money to their clothes. Things got a little tense as the couple’s outfits filled with cash and all that was left was the groom’s trousers, but thankfully the song ended, and the groom didn’t need to rush to the hospital to remove a misplaced pin.

However, that was nowhere near as tense as the time when one groom almost drank himself comatose with Jack Daniels just before his first dance. The bride was flapping around, trying to get the barmen to make him an espresso - but all he needed was to throw up. Unfortunately, it was into one of the bridesmaid’s purses. I’ll never look at whisky the same after that. Or purses.

I nearly suffered the same fate (not being vomited into, but being far more inebriated than necessary) at a wedding this summer. I don’t normally drink on the job; it’s kind of unprofessional, and I’m sure most couples wouldn’t be satisfied when they received blurry photos in their inbox (I’m sure I could probably pass it off as ‘artistic’, but I’ll save that for my Turner Prize entry). At this particular wedding, however, the wedding party were all but forcing sloe gin shots down my esophagus. It was a very tasty form of torture. Luckily, it was the end of the night and I had just enough cash in my pocket for a taxi. At least, I think it was a taxi… I may have accidentally paid someone’s mum to take me home.

Following a crazy summer of back-to-back weddings, I visited Iceland for a job. After getting stopped by airport security, who thought that my camera belt was a sex harness, I was able to explore this incredible island and act like a proper tourist for a little bit. I drove the Golden Circle, slapped some clay on my face and chilled out in the Blue Lagoon and, of course, ate 70% of the entire country’s food supplies. The only thing that displeased me was the cost; far more than a week’s worth of food from Iceland back home. I guess I’ll re-balance my bank account with their Kerry Katona special: £1 family-size ‘hoof and eyeball’ pies. The kids will love it.

Lastly, this year has been full of rewarding work. And when I say ‘rewarding’, I mean gin-based rewards. Aside from the sloe gin incident, you all know that I can’t get enough of the stuff, and it’s been a real pleasure to receive bottles of gin from clients - even before handing over the photographs, on some occasions. I’m not going to get emotional (I cry gin tears, anyway), but I really have the best clients.

If, by now, you haven’t poured yourself a glass of gin to toast Christmas and the New Year with me, why are you reading this blog? Come back when you give a damn. For those of you that do, cheers. Here’s to 2020, Greek weddings, sex harnesses, mechanically reclaimed meat pies, and the gins that we are yet to drink.

I could scroll through Facebook for hours. Not because I’m interested in the shameless comment thread between my second cousin, Debbie (smokes too much), and her soon-to-be ex, Steve (stereotypical barbed wire tattoos), after she posted a screenshot of his, frankly, embarrassing texts to a 23-year-old gym receptionist called Misha (fake boobs to detract from a lazy eye). No, I’m far too busy for that. And definitely too busy to learn everyone’s names. Instead, I’m pouring through the latest posts in wedding groups, of which there are many.

Sometimes the groups will entertain me with painful wedding stories, like the seemingly innocent-looking flower girl who slipped some mozzarella into her dairy-intolerant stepsister’s salad, causing a stream of stringy vomit and a slippery dance floor during the Macarena.

Most of the time, however, these groups are a popular place to request, read and write recommendations and reviews, from venues to vicars - and, yes, wedding photographers are included in that.

There are usually lots of requests for ‘good but cheap’ suppliers who will do an amazing job for less than the price of a Freddo. Commenters will bitch about the price of wedding photography, comparing it to their little sister’s 18th birthday party, where the photographer charged £200 for the entire job. Well, I have something to say about that, of course. If I shoot an 18th birthday party, I’m not going to inspect the venue beforehand or spend hours corresponding with you about ideas. I’ll get my gear together just before the arrival, drive to the venue and shoot you and your family and friends having a fun, happy time. Note that I said ‘happy’ and not ‘the happiest time of your lives’, because an 18th birthday is not a wedding. They’re not even in the same league. In fact, they’re so far out of each other’s leagues that one’s playing in the World Cup final at Wembley and the other’s sucking at toilet golf in some little green dude’s craphouse on the ugly side of Uranus.

After the bitching comes scam-watch. “Don’t get scammed” or “SCAMMER ALERT!”, they read. It’s like one of those noughties adverts about internet fraud, although there are no Nigerian kings asking for your hand in marriage here - just a group of grooms and brides-to-be looking out for one another. Or so they think.

I read on and found that one groom had his late father’s watch stolen by a ‘dirt cheap’ tour guide on his stag-do in Crete; a bride ordered from a ‘very reasonably priced’ florist and received a dead mouse in her bouquet; and a new mother-in-law was shocked to find that the photographer who sold her ‘an amazing deal’ at a wedding show two years ago never showed up.

One thing I have to advise is: if it looks to good to be true, it probably is. So, sadly for them, all of these people have likely fallen victim to a classic scenario: the desperate beginner. When photographers are just starting out and they’re trying to promote themselves, some will offer a deal that they just can’t deliver on. It might be a package which comprises a pre-shoot, full wedding day coverage, canvas, photo album and - who knows - a cabana boy who’ll show you a good time. Savvy brides and grooms will book the desperate beginner a year or two in advance, thinking they’ve hit the jackpot; but when the big day comes around, the photographer doesn’t show up because he or she has worked two-dozen weddings in that time and actually can’t afford to commit to those initial bookings. You could take them to court, but then they could just declare themselves bankrupt and start another wedding photography business under another name.

I guess you should’ve known better. You should’ve known that wedding photography prices vary for a reason. You probably won’t get the same level of service from a £200 photographer as you will from someone ten times more expensive, if any.

Now, you’re left without professional wedding photos, depressed about seeing a dead mouse, trawling eBay for a lookalike Rolex, and writing about it all on Facebook. However, I won’t say that I told you so; I’ll just continue drinking my rich Ugandan speciality coffee and amusing myself with your stories.

I’m not asking for an Oscar. I’m not asking for Jennifer Lawrence to chuck herself up some stairs in a dress that looks like it should be worn by one of those toilet roll dolls that sit on my great aunt’s cistern. I’m not asking for a shrivelled up Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway to announce the wrong winner (I mean, what were we expecting from a pair of prunes with a collective age of 160?). I’m not even asking for a streaker - although that would be the most excitement I’ve had in a while…

I’m not asking for anything when it comes to being a freelance dad, because I know that I won’t get it. I bet you’re thinking, ‘oh boo hoo. This privileged white male is upset that he doesn’t get a gold star on his homework at the end of the day.’ Well, no. But a foot massage would be nice.

I’m kidding, of course - nobody would ever want to go near my feet after a day’s work - however, just a little percentage of your consideration would suffice.

First up, let me talk to you about what it means to be freelance. For all you naive prats who think I shoot a couple of weddings a year, then spend the rest of the time drinking espresso martinis, you’d be right. But only about the espresso martinis. See, there’s something that people don’t tell you about being self-employed, and it’s that there aren’t enough espresso martinis in the world to be able to keep you sane while you’re on your third 14-hour working day of the week.

You can imagine how this experience of freelance work differs from the view of 20-year-old Avi, who thought that people who worked for themselves slept all day, boozed it up all night, and occasionally clicked a shutter release button. I wish I could say that money would rain down from the sky into my lap, like dollar bills at a strip club, but that’s not the case. And I can’t find my platform heels and nipple tassels from my glory days, so I can’t revisit that money-making opportunity again.

After you’ve managed to wipe that image from your mental hard drive, let me tell you about what it means to be a dad. I guess, in 2019, being a dad is a lot different to how it was fifty years ago. Or maybe even 10 years ago, for those who couldn’t get with the times.

My wife and I share responsibilities, from trying to convince our son to stay away from the kid called Mason with the earring during school pick-ups, to packing a kickass lunch that makes our daughter’s friends jealous, to quality-time divided between working out how to operate an Xbox controller and pretending to be a purple unicorn called Frank (I do a much better unicorn impression than my wife, by the way. She needs to step up her game).

Now, on the subject of my wife, let me tell you about life as a husband. In between being a unicorn and driving to and from school (not at the same time - it’s hard to drive with hooves), I manage to see my wife for around two hours a day. During that time, I’m either too tired to stay awake for Mindhunter (her choice) or Strictly Come Dancing (my choice), to talk, or do anything else. And even then, I’ll get a text from a client who’s suddenly had an epiphany about props for their pre-shoot. It might be romantic for them, but it’s certainly not for me. Or my wife, who’s trying to burn a hole in my head with her eyes as I pick up my phone for the 50th time that night. I’m lucky that we have an understanding relationship; just as she understands that, for me, work never stops, I understand that she always eats Nutella straight out of the jar with a teaspoon and puts it back in the cupboard (don’t tell her, but I have my own jar stashed in my office).

Despite all the advice against combining these aspects of my life - being a dad, husband and freelancer - I usually find myself being all three at the same time. I went on a holiday with my family a couple of months ago, for the first time in what feels like forever, and I was still allocating around 15% for clients, just in case they wanted to confirm that awful prop selection. But I didn’t mind. The one great thing about working for myself is that, instead of answering emails at my desk, I can answer emails while turning lobster-red on a lilo in Tijuana, sipping on my third obligatory afternoon gin.

I’m really not asking for any prize, at the end of the day. I know that I won’t have to prepare an awful acceptance speech for the Freelance Dad Awards 2019, because there isn’t one. However, a little recognition on behalf of myself and all other freelance dads would be just swell.

Yesterday started at 3:15 am as I heard little feet running towards my bedroom and jumping across me, while I still had drool coming out of my mouth. Seconds later, I had a little person get as close as one could without climbing onto me and hold on for reassurance as a bad dream for the third night running awoke him.

By 4 am, with knees tucked into my spine, I forced myself to stumble to the toilet, hoping I aimed directly in. I climbed up the smallest ladder and made my way into a bed with superhero sheets and a million stuffed toys to try and fall back to sleep, before waking to my 5:30 alarm.

Rolled into the office to open emails, sort bills and copy wedding from drive to drive.

After showering, getting two small people washed and making them breaky while drinking my coffee, I stopped in front of the gin cupboard staring, which felt like forever, wishing. But seconds later I came back to reality.

I grabbed the shopping bag and was out the door by 7:30am to line up with all the silver foxes, who are hoping to grab a bargain - or have probably been awake since 4am due to their small bladders.

Finally, pushing a few out of my way, I made the rounds twice as I forgot a few things off the list that the wife so kindly wrote, but never left my pocket. I made a mad dash back home to offload, and went back on the road into the depths of Ipswich for a business meeting about moving forward into the next decade.

Thinking it would be a brilliant idea, I made a stop at Costa knowing I had 22 minutes before my appointment with only a five-minute drive down the road. With only three in the queue, I waited 22 minutes to grab three specialty coffees and ‘re-waited’ as they got my order wrong. Now late for my meeting - but the coffee was in hand.

Downing the drinks and eating cake while talking business, my watch was vibrating madly. I looked at it, only to realise that it was endless spam. I ventured back home, arriving about midday with a good five hours of editing ahead before putting my clothes back on, grabbing the kids Beavers and Brownies outfits, stuffing my face with a snack and heading down the road.

I volunteered to attend Beavers as a helper - which was interesting. I headed back home with just one child so that I could hose him down before listening to him read, practice spellings and a short story, but I was interrupted as child number-two arrived back home - which needed sorting out too.

They are both tucked away in bed as I prepare my dinner (solo, as the wife has plans for the evening) but didn’t have long to eat as I had a phone meeting booked in for 8pm and another for 9pm. Once I ended the last meeting, I continued to edit some more before the wife arrived home and we filled each other in on one another’s day. I tucked the wife into bed as I continued to edit into the night...

And this was just a Thursday.

I get that it’s difficult to be unique in this world. It’s easier to copy others, rather than having to conjure up something totally original. In fact, it’s almost encouraged. We see unoriginality from some of the most revered of sources; one moment Robin Thicke has released the biggest song of 2013, the next he’s being served a copyright lawsuit by Marvin Gaye’s family and ends up grinding against Miley Cyrus onstage at the MTV VMAs. Of course, I wouldn’t wish such ill will against anyone (nobody I know deserves that kind of association with Miley Cyrus). However, I do discourage being unoriginal. If not for your own sake, then for mine.

Working as a photographer on dozens of weddings a year, I see a lot of the same old stuff. Some things have been around since the dawn of time. For example, did you know that Roman brides and grooms would break a piece of bread together, and this transformed into today’s cake cutting ceremony? Or that separating the bride and groom before the wedding actually stems from arranged marriages, where the two were separated so that they couldn’t back out upon seeing their spouse-to-be’s ugly mug and realising they’d made a terrible mistake? (A lot of you thought that that second one was about bad luck, didn’t you?)

Then, there are the more modern trends: posing within a giant photo frame during your creatives, cringeworthy wedding hashtags, or - gulp - flash mobs. You might think it looks cool at the time, but it doesn’t feel so cool when you’re a guest at five weddings the following spring, and the wedding party are busting out synchronised moves to Gangnam Style in front of guests who look more awkward than a T-Rex trying to take a selfie.

When it comes to me, well, I’ll just roll my eyes and smile, because not only have I seen all of these ‘trends’ at the last five weddings I shot, I’ll have seen them at five weddings a year, for the last five years. You might think that you’ve wowed me with your bridal party’s rustic-looking flower crowns, but I’ve been to enough festivals this year to decide that flower crowns only belong at weddings if there’s a bin where you can dump them when you arrive.

From the title of this blog post, I guess I don’t need to tell you where all of these trends come from. That’s right: Pinterest. The app that most brides and grooms turn to these days in order to get inspiration for their upcoming wedding. After all, there’s nothing that puts you in the mood for a wedding quite like spending a romantic night-in wearing musty jogging bottoms and scrolling through Pinterest while your other half figures out how to make a candy buffet more hygienic so that you don’t get the flu during your honeymoon in Thailand.

You’ve probably spent so many hours tapping on photos on Pinterest, that you’re now going about your daily life absentmindedly tapping on people’s shoes or jewellery, trying to figure out if you can save them to your board entitled ‘Fantasy Wedding 2020’. Until someone punches you in the face, I guess you can get away with your unhealthy Pinterest obsession.

But let me tell you this. Once it’s on Pinterest, it’s been done. Your wedding is not going to be original if you get all your ideas from pins that a million other brides or grooms-to-be also have access to. They say that every time a pin is saved to a bride or groom’s board, a wedding photographer dies a little inside.

So, how do you have an original wedding? It’s simple. Be yourself. If you don’t know who that is, well, then you need to work on finding that out, rather than working on a wedding. Don’t concern yourself with the suspiciously model-like bride on Pinterest, with the long hair and the perfectly fitting gown. She probably has no friends because she spends all of her time on Pinterest.

My advice is to consider what you do for a living, your hobbies, where you like to travel. Take an idea and run with it, no matter if the trends go against you, or none of your friends are doing it at their weddings. It’s okay to be different. In fact, it’s more than okay to be different. Because you’ll be happier that you can be yourself, I’ll be happier that I don’t have to edit photos of the same old crap for the fifth time this year, and we’ll all be happier that the flower crown industry will die a death and the damn things will cease to exist. It’s a win-win-win.

I am not one to mix family and business.

I like to keep the two separate but at the same time show you I am not a robot who just takes pictures and drinks a shite load of gin to escape reality.

I never turn off, take time out for myself, my children or my wife. Last August, I didn't say no, taking 14 weddings on with very little rest.

But it's Wedding Season you say....hahahhaha...what is that? Nowadays the "season" is 365 days! Thank you for that, keeping me in work and providing for my family, but two years on without rest seeing everyone's Facebook feeds about holidays, honeymoons and family time made me wakeup and say....my time.

My time to turn off 85 percent, sit by a pool, from pasty white to lobster red, drink endless gin (gin with red slushy is the new go to) and a few creative cocktails that make you pee blue or pink. Why 85 percent you ask? Because being self employed does not smell of roses as one might think. There is always a concerned bride that has a question about her wedding two years from now, or a groom asking if we can help them on the day do the cravats, what food would we like or a new enquiry.

But, and a big but....I have had the best eight days. Seeing massive grins on my children faces, the blue sea, three pools, endless food, endless drink and most of all seeing my wife for more than two hours at a time.

It has been great, but it doesn't mean I won't work twice as hard when I get home to get your edits done and out to you. Please be patient, I promise it will be worth the wait.

Can I compare going to Ed Sheeran's concert to attending a wedding ceremony? Yes, I can. With this blog I’ve only posted two photos from the concert. The first one is a delightful shot of the toilet and the second is a half-dead cow - which was amazing.

My camera was tucked away in my front pocket for four hours, so I was able to enjoy the opening acts before the gingerbread man came on stage (how can one head-bang and air-guitar to The Darkness with a phone in one hand?).

Four gins down and a bottle of wine in my plastic ‘Ed cup’, the boy from Suffolk entered the arena - but my phone was still in my pocket. As he kicked off with Castle on the Hill, at least 20,000 (out of 40,000) fans enjoyed the song through their screens. The distraction is beyond a nuisance. Looking around, the two girls in front of me were facing backwards, taking an unnecessary amount of selfies and then spending the rest of the song uploading them to every social media platform you could think of. Why pay £87 for a ticket when all you care about are the ‘likes’?

So, this comes back to weddings and ceremonies… put down the fucking phone. Your son, daughter, nephew, cousin, niece, brother, sister, mum, dad or friend has invited you to share in what they consider the most amazing day of their life and all you want to do is get that first photo on Facebook. “Hey, look at me, look at my outfit, my new hairstyle, my new handbag, my new shoes.” Put the phone away and take it in with your own eyes.

Now, as a business, I need to update my portfolio via Instagram and Facebook. But as far as my personal portfolio goes, no one needs to see me striving for the perfect angle. How can I make a garden gnome with a ginger beard, a tummy and a pair of man boobs look good anyway? Unless you all drink a bottle of gin with me...

We used to take pictures when they meant something. Now, we flood our timelines with pictures of secondhand moments, all so that we can feel good when the likes come flooding in.

This is my message to Uncle Bob with his ridiculous selfie stick, Mum with her iPad or Fred with the latest Samsung: be in the moment and take in the experience while leaving the pros to document the event.

I could scroll through Facebook for hours. Not because I’m interested in the shameless comment thread between my second cousin, Debbie (smokes too much), and her soon-to-be ex, Steve (stereotypical barbed wire tattoos), after she posted a screenshot of his, frankly, embarrassing texts to a 23-year-old gym receptionist called Misha (fake boobs to detract from a lazy eye). No, I’m far too busy for that. And definitely too busy to learn everyone’s names. Instead, I’m pouring through the latest posts in wedding groups, of which there are many.

Sometimes the groups will entertain me with painful wedding stories, like the seemingly innocent-looking flower girl who slipped some mozzarella into her dairy-intolerant stepsister’s salad, causing a stream of stringy vomit and a slippery dance floor during the Macarena.

Most of the time, however, these groups are a popular place to request, read and write recommendations and reviews, from venues to vicars - and, yes, wedding photographers are included in that.

There are usually lots of requests for ‘good but cheap’ suppliers who will do an amazing job for less than the price of a Freddo. Commenters will bitch about the price of wedding photography, comparing it to their little sister’s 18th birthday party, where the photographer charged £200 for the entire job. Well, I have something to say about that, of course. If I shoot an 18th birthday party, I’m not going to inspect the venue beforehand or spend hours corresponding with you about ideas. I’ll get my gear together just before the arrival, drive to the venue and shoot you and your family and friends having a fun, happy time. Note that I said ‘happy’ and not ‘the happiest time of your lives’, because an 18th birthday is not a wedding. They’re not even in the same league. In fact, they’re so far out of each other’s leagues that one’s playing in the World Cup final at Wembley and the other’s sucking at toilet golf in some little green dude’s craphouse on the ugly side of Uranus.

After the bitching comes scam-watch. “Don’t get scammed” or “SCAMMER ALERT!”, they read. It’s like one of those noughties adverts about internet fraud, although there are no Nigerian kings asking for your hand in marriage here - just a group of grooms and brides-to-be looking out for one another. Or so they think.

I read on and found that one groom had his late father’s watch stolen by a ‘dirt cheap’ tour guide on his stag-do in Crete; a bride ordered from a ‘very reasonably priced’ florist and received a dead mouse in her bouquet; and a new mother-in-law was shocked to find that the photographer who sold her ‘an amazing deal’ at a wedding show two years ago never showed up.

One thing I have to advise is: if it looks to good to be true, it probably is. So, sadly for them, all of these people have likely fallen victim to a classic scenario: the desperate beginner. When photographers are just starting out and they’re trying to promote themselves, some will offer a deal that they just can’t deliver on. It might be a package which comprises a pre-shoot, full wedding day coverage, canvas, photo album and - who knows - a cabana boy who’ll show you a good time. Savvy brides and grooms will book the desperate beginner a year or two in advance, thinking they’ve hit the jackpot; but when the big day comes around, the photographer doesn’t show up because he or she has worked two-dozen weddings in that time and actually can’t afford to commit to those initial bookings. You could take them to court, but then they could just declare themselves bankrupt and start another wedding photography business under another name.

I guess you should’ve known better. You should’ve known that wedding photography prices vary for a reason. You probably won’t get the same level of service from a £200 photographer as you will from someone ten times more expensive, if any.

Now, you’re left without professional wedding photos, depressed about seeing a dead mouse, trawling eBay for a lookalike Rolex, and writing about it all on Facebook. However, I won’t say that I told you so; I’ll just continue drinking my rich Ugandan speciality coffee and amusing myself with your stories.

When you’re the new kid in school, you always start off playing by the rules. If the uniform dictates you wear your tie a certain length, you get out a ruler and you measure that tie. If school starts at 9am, you get there ten minutes before the bell rings. If you have a maths test, you bring in a compass, two scientific calculators (in case the first one doesn’t work) and five black pens (in case there’s some sort of pen apocalypse and the first four explode in your backpack).

Why do you do these things? Because you want to make a good impression. When you’re just starting out, it’s hard to know what the tolerance level is. How much can you get away with? Is it a strict school or can you get away with Bunsen burning someone’s pencil case?

That’s kind of what wedding photography is like – aside from the Bunsen burners (there’s enough hairspray in most brides’ hair to create a pyrotechnic show that rivals an infamous Michael Jackson Pepsi advert). What I’m talking about is that when I first started out as a wedding photographer, I tiptoed around weddings like I was trying not to wake my parents after a night out. My presence would only be vaguely noticeable at the faint sound of a shutter click. I was overly polite to the brides and grooms and toned down the personality. I even refused any drinks from the wedding party.

But then, just like finding your place at school, I found my place in wedding photography. I started to bring out my personality, and it kind of became my signature. I took pleasure in making people laugh, even if that meant dishing out a little bit of well-meaning British banter. And I started accepting a glass of champagne during the speeches. Of course, I’ve been offered more, but despite an evil eye from a busy-body bridesmaid who frowns upon me touching one drop of alcohol, I know when to stop. A time-crafted penchant for gin has gifted me with an innate knowledge of my alcohol limits.

The same couldn’t be said for some of the guests I’ve photographed. Or even the staff. In fact, I’ve seen some very questionable DJs in my time, who seem to drink all night on an empty stomach. At least I’m usually treated to a meal before the real festivities begin, but these guys don’t even touch a slice of cake. I have to applaud them – most of the time they’ll complete a three or four hour set fuelled by nothing but beer and the raw hope that one day they’ll get out of wedding DJing. And somehow, after the night is over, they seem to arrive home safely (if any police officers are reading this, I’m not naming names. Wedding industry code and all that).

The point is that these guys don’t get criticised for drinking. Maybe it’s because they arrive when all the guests are drunk. No one notices the one sober person in the room. Or maybe it’s because they stand behind a desk all night, their only interactions being with people shouting requests at them: “COME ON EILEEN!” “GANGNAM STYLE!” “MACARENA!”

The worst behaviour I’ve seen was actually from a man of the cloth, tut tut. A vicar got so trollied on sacramental wine before the service that he told a young ring bearer that Beelzebub would appear in his room at night and eat his hands if he dropped the rings. A risky approach, but no rings were dropped and apparently years later that boy still has the fear of God in him. Which makes me think – did the alcohol make the vicar perform a better job? Maybe. I’m certainly not going to drink enough to threaten the devil on innocent kids, but would a small flute of bubbly hurt in loosening my creative flow? Only one way to find out *drinks enthusiastically*.

But seriously, the next time a bridesmaid comes up to me and questions why I’m drinking after the best man has just handed me a thimbleful of sloe gin, you better believe that I’ll be cutting her head off in all the group shots. Although I might seem jolly, I’m not going to be cajoled into drinking any more than is appropriate. And as I know myself better than anyone (aside from my darling wife), I decide what is appropriate for me.

I’m sure that if God wasn’t busy puppeteering British politics then he would probably smite everyone mentioned in this blog post for touching the hard stuff on a day as holy as a wedding day – and that vicar would probably burst into flames if he ever set foot in a church again. But prime ministers need divine intervention, vicars need to marry people, and we all need to lighten up when it comes to wedding photographers having a polite swig.

When was the last time you went to a rave? I’m sure, for many of you, those three day benders have been relegated to the section of your memory dedicated to regrets, withering away on a shelf next to ‘questionable exes’ and ‘studying Media’. In fact, you might even wince at the word ‘rave’, as if whoever uttered those four letters is trying to reach into your brain and painfully relocate those memories to the front of your mind.

Well, I apologise for any discomfort I cause poking around in the dustiest part of your cranium, because I went to a rave quite recently. I can’t say I had as much fun as you probably had, but it was definitely… an experience.

Let me explain. Instead of an abandoned warehouse, it was held in the ballroom of a country manor. Everyone wore dresses and suits, and they played Ed Sheeran instead of EDM. And we were all sober. Or thereabouts.

I know; it doesn’t sound like any rave you’ve ever been to. And that’s because it was actually a wedding. But not a rave-themed wedding. No. Just a normal wedding, complete with a bride, groom, cake and creepy uncle. The ‘rave’ segment started during the first dance. But I don’t mean that the happy couple organised a rave for their reception (although, that sounds like it would be a pretty unforgettable night). What I mean is that the DJ decided to bring ridiculous, tacky, and downright annoying lights to his set, launching into an array of patterns and colours as soon as Ed started singing about ‘legs not working like they used to before’, or some other gumph.

At the flick of a switch, the room transformed from a warm and ambient atmosphere to one where I had to ask the organiser if there was a helicopter search party scouring the grounds (that bottle of gin I ‘borrowed’ from the bar wasn’t going to find itself).

Now, the wedding guests probably stood there, watching the couple being assaulted by red lasers and thinking it was a bit weird, but then continued with their night as the bride and groom encouraged everyone onto the dancefloor to join in with their first dance. Myself, on the other hand, was getting more and more stressed as I strained to calculate the gaps between the flashes of light so that I could snap a photo where the bride didn’t look like she was being targeted by a sniper. It was such hard work that I had to take a shower afterwards. But I guess that’s nothing compared to the week of hangovers and withdrawal shakes following an actual rave.

This has happened on more than one occasion. I’ve even had to specifically tell DJs to cut the lights before the first dance began. Not for the reason that it could most likely cause an epileptic fit, but because I want my brides and grooms to get their money’s worth when it comes to my photography - and that just can’t happen when there are coloured dots coating everyone’s faces like hormonal acne.

What’s worse is when DJs get creative with shapes, like the dreaded love hearts. Honestly, there’s nothing less appealing than being literally blinded by love. But worst of all are the spotlights; huge, great flashes of bright, white light whizzing around the room like a children’s disco. It’s practically impossible for me to get a good shot of the first dance when these buggers come into play. Especially when the lights are landing on various body parts. I’ll look back through my photos and find that the bride’s face looks like it’s been left at home while her body’s been to the Bahamas and sunbathed on a beach for seven hours. In the next shot, the groom’s crotch looks like it’s on fire. If you’ve ever scratched out the faces of your ex-girlfriends on your old photos until the white of the paper appears, you’ll know what this looks like. Nope? Just me? Okay.

If there are any DJs reading this, the point of my post isn’t to offend you (but if you are easily offended, what the hell are you doing reading my blog?). I’ve worked with some great DJs over the years who have listened to me when I’ve asked them to cut back on the lighting during the first dance. After all, we’ve both got a job to do and money to earn, and I don’t want to lose out because someone feels like they want to make a last minute career change to special effects technician. What I do want is for my clients to look back at their photos in fifty years time and remember their awesome first dance - not the DJ who gave them PTSD when their wedding became a warzone, or the weirdly sweaty photographer who did a bad job at capturing it all.

It’s summer in the UK. And along with a mandatory storm and an excess of sticky-handed kids at every cafe, park or beach, a British summer isn’t complete without some ice, a slice of fresh lime, a trickle of tonic and a double shot of gin. In a glass, I might add. It’d be pretty sad if you just tipped all of that onto your counter.

That said, we’re about halfway through the year and I’ve already exhausted my gin cabinet. Not single-handedly, however. My wife enjoys a glass or two just as much as I do. In fact, when it comes to gin, we’re all over it like vegans on a falafel kiosk. We love the stuff. We probably couldn’t go two weeks without finishing a bottle. However, I’d like to clarify that we’re not alcoholics in any sense. At least that’s what my AA counsellor tells me.

Although the gin cabinet stock might have been depleted, I’m holding out hope that it’ll be replenished soon enough. Here’s why…

When I attend a job, I arrive well in time to shoot some reportage. This means capturing the ‘story’ of your wedding, and although I’m thinking about reportage throughout the entire day, much of the story occurs before the wedding actually begins. The excitement becomes visible when you’re having your hair tugged at and your skin powdered by the makeup pro, when you’re slipping your sweaty feet into your wedding shoes, and when the groomsmen are adjusting their clip-on bow ties. At this point, you’re probably overwhelmed by the thought of the day ahead, a little bit dizzy, even. It’s my job to capture this feeling, before the Champagne starts flowing and the excitement turns to shameless drunken contentment.

When I walk into the bride’s or groom’s suite, I don’t expect to be treated like a special guest. A simple ‘hello’ and a smile is good enough for me. After all, it’s your special day and I’m just here to do my job. But I’m thankful to say that I’ve been treated especially well by my fantastic clients, who go above and beyond to make sure I have everything I need, whether that’s pints of coffee or a meal at their wedding breakfast.

I’ve been given goody bags full of gin and Percy Pigs (because what’s a goody bag without farm animal-shaped confectionery?), and even a nice thank you message after the wedding. I don’t even get this kind of consideration from my local gin bar. And believe me, I basically fund that place. I should be treated like a king.

What I’m saying is, it’s in no way essential for clients to treat me to such nice things. But it is always much appreciated. I know how stressful a wedding day can be. There is much to think about and, if Murphy’s law is true, then anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. In fact, I’ve been to a wedding where a page boy knocked the bride into the cake, which then collapsed onto a younger page boy, the floor, AND the bride’s dress (some people might have laughed in that situation - the bride decided to go home). With all that going on, it humbles me to know that clients still allocate a portion of their brain space to their photographer. They say kindness doesn’t take much, but after you’ve been robbed during an engagement shoot, you’ll know that it doesn’t come to some people as naturally as it does to others.

I wholeheartedly look forward to my future interactions with all my brides and grooms this year, almost as much as I’m looking forward to enjoying a sweet, cool Old Tom Gin that a mother-of-the-bride gifted me last week after telling me I did a great job and patting me on the head. A little patronising, but hey, it was expensive gin. I can keep my ego in check for an elegant bottle and the crisp taste of juniper.

Sadly, I’m not going to start accepting payment in gin. But I have thought about it. If not for me, then for my wife, who’s opened the gin cabinet three times already today to see if a bottle might have magically appeared. Instead, I want to give a shout out to all the brides and grooms who look after me on their wedding days - you rock. Let’s keep making beautiful photos together!

I’ll start with a brief definition of ‘ghosting’ for those who are incapable of Googling. Ghosting is when you end a relationship (usually a personal one) by suddenly ceasing all communication with the other party, with no explanation. This happens a lot in the dating world; thankfully, to other people, rather than my married self. However, I’ve experienced my fair share of ghosting in the professional world.

It’ll start with an enquiry. Maybe a prospective client will pick up my business card at a wedding fair, or stumble across my online portfolio. They’ll have a look at my website to check out my style and find out if I’m crazy or not (beware, I am). Then they’ll send me an email asking to see more examples of my work and request a quote. At this point, they’ll have probably talked to several other photographers - and that’s OK. Although I’m probably shooting myself in the foot by saying this, it’s important to shop around to make sure you’re getting the right style, quality and, of course, price for something as important as your wedding photos.

To make a comparison; when you’re buying a car, you don’t just visit one dealer. You put a Saturday aside, fuel yourself on a McDonald’s breakfast and drive round to every dealer in your area to see who can give you the best price. You probably give each dealer a fake email address so that your inbox doesn’t get clogged up with junk, and you drink as much free coffee as possible to make the journey worthwhile.

Once you’ve settled on a dealer who gives you the car you want in the colour you want, with the added sat nav and 10% shaved off the price, you ghost the other dealers and everyone goes about their business again. Although Nigel at Ford is disappointed with the loss of commission, he’ll still get paid his monthly salary. I wish I could say the same for myself.

When I receive a client enquiry, I take the time to give a thorough response. If it’s examples you want, I’ll trawl through past work and build a collection of examples which will fit the style of your wedding. I don’t have a robot to do it for me; the nerds in Silicon Valley haven’t yet invented an algorithm which intuitively recommends images based on a client’s wedding theme (an important piece of technology that I’m sure everyone would benefit from - not just me). So I have to go through all my work by hand, when I could be editing a current client’s photographs.

Sometimes, I’ll receive enquiries from clients who want to meet me in person. So I’ll brush the crumbs out of my beard, put on something smarter than jogging bottoms and the unicorn slippers my son bought me, and venture out to a coffee shop for an hour to talk availability and pricing. And then when the barista is tired of me, I’ll meet with the client to go over their wedding. I’ll buy them a latte or whatever weak drink they fancy (if you ask for an espresso, we’re automatically friends), then venture into an in-depth discussion about the ‘really awesome shots’ they’ve seen on Instagram and want to recreate.

After all that, it’s sometimes the case that I never hear back from that client. Just like picking a car dealer, they’ll choose another photographer and won’t let me know that they’ve decided to go elsewhere. OK, I’m not sitting by the phone like a teenage girl waiting for a boy to call (hint hint, love, he’s probably ghosting you too), but following the work I put in, a simple heads-up would be nice.

It doesn’t need to be much. Just send me something along the lines of: hey, Avi, we know that you’re the best wedding photographer, but we’ve decided to hire someone else anyway because we like to live on the edge and take risks with our wedding photographs. We’d like to let you know in advance that we’ll probably regret not picking you. Super sorry that you’ve lost out on this business, but good luck in future.

Then, at least, I’d have closure and I could stop chasing you like an abandoned puppy. I know that we can’t all be the responsible, moral people that our mums think we are. But when it comes to freelance wedding photographers, for whom every minute counts, let’s try to be.