The Wedding Photographer

As the daylight hours start to expand; the temperature gently rises and love begins to plan for the future I thought it a good time to introduce the work of a particulat craftsman and his very important partner – the wedding photographer’s wife. This is her story.

Being the wedding photographer’s wife has its problems you know. I’m a bit like the mother of the bride I suppose – like me, she can be a bit of a nuisance to the main player, but indispensable. The times my husband wants me out of the way – then needs me to take this, fetch that, etc., etc.

The bride’s mother is the same, one minute being told to stop fussing, the next vital because the bride’s hair has blown loose.

My main problem, though, is what to wear. Peter – my husband the photographer – works across a wide area. Churches, registry offices, hotels – you name it, we’ve been there. Some summers we are at the same place half a dozen times.

The wedding families and the guests change from wedding to wedding – well most of the time anyway – but onlookers pretty much remain the same. They all come to ‘have a nose’, to compare and to criticise. Many of these onlookers recognise me now and stop to chat. It’s nice – but it’s a problem as well. What will they say if I wear the same outfit as I wore at the last wedding here?

‘You’d think she’s have more than that one dress or suit wouldn’t you?’

But if I do ring the changes, and wear something different every time, I can imagine the gossip that will go round:

‘She’s got another new outfit I see. They must be rolling in money.’

‘Have you heard how much he charges to take the pictures? Now we can see where the money goes, can’t we?’

Perhaps more critical, though – what if the colour I am wearing is the same colour as the wedding outfits? Or even worse – what if it clashes?

So that I don’t get lynched – or cause Peter to lose bookings – I keep a careful record of what to wear, where I wore it and when. Peter also takes a photograph of me and my outfit at every wedding, and it all goes into a detailed file we keep.

The one weak spot here is that too many brides don’t know, or don’t want to tell Peter, what their colour scheme will be. Even more annoying is when they tell him chapter and verse – and then change their mind at the last minute!

You know – it’s not easy being a wedding photographer’s wife.

Still – it’s better than Peter having some young floozie as an assistant – dolled up to the nines to outdo the wedding party. Turning up dressed to be seen, rather than dressed to merge into the background in a professional manner.

I know all about that as well, you know. I was a floozie once – ‘eye candy’ as they call it now.

I was a knife thrower’s assistant in my younger days – days before I met Peter. Knowing what to wear then was no problem at all. Bright, sparkly and as little as possible was the order of the day. Long legs in fishnet tights; bare arms and shoulders, and a pronounced, scarcely covered bust with obvious cleavage, was the rule.

I just had to stand there smiling, provocatively posed with a handful of knives to hand to the ‘star’ of the show. I posed, and he was the poser. Off stage he was a right pain in the left foot. There were times when I could cheerfully have put the knife into his heart rather than his throwing hand during the show!

I often wonder what the gawking ladies at the weddings, and the ‘mothers of the brides’, would say.

But that’s another story – the story of how I stopped having knives thrown at me and started dressing differently!

 

 

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