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| yeah, that's right |
My photographer. Oh sweet Jesus.
He came well recommended. (He did family portraits for a lady I had other business with). His website is very nice and expertly done. He was not cheap. He is the brother of a very famous, legendary singer. Did that sway me? Maybe a tad, but not that much, because I didn't even ask him about her. I kind of thought it would be a cool story for the future.
He showed up in sweats, a cut-off sweatshirt, and a weird knitted hat, high, (pretty sure), and obsessed with my attractive blond cousins. He spent a lot of time massaging their shoulders and snapping pics of them. He remarked on the stark differences in our appearances; a thinly veiled question as to, "how did this happen? Are you sure you're related?" (Adoption was maybe a foreign concept to him? These were, after all, the pre-Brangelina days.) As he stroked my cousin's shoulder, he said, "so blond, so tall, and then, you two, (blithely referring to me and my sister), such dark hair..." I'm sorry, what?
Did I mention that he made my husband and I fake our cake cutting picture, because he didn't want to wait for us to eat dinner, as he had a "softball game across the island" to attend?
I had a contract, and I specifically asked him if I was being charged for his time, or the amount of pictures. He said both. Obviously, I wasn't paying him for his time, as he had obligated himself to some community ed. sporting event the same evening as my ceremony.
So, Lauren, know what you are getting. Be very specific. Have a list of the shots you want taken. And if you are getting married at sunset, make sure your photographer isn't Fiona from Shrek and can stick around after dark.
And you know, I do have really great, visually stunning pictures of my cousins, specifically my (then) 5 year old cousin. Which is kind of creepy, now that I think about it.
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