Issue no. 5
when no one else is watching page 52 | photography by kate osborne
110 lindsey & scott photography by ryan flynn
mary & zach photography by izzie rae
cover feature pg4 22 kylie & danny photography by alex steele
photography by mariel hannah
styled shoot secret garden page 94 photography by evelyn eslava
72 young love by stephanie sunderland
I am one who craves change. Complacency is not my friend. That is one of the reasons I love design. Though the basic principles remain, the applications are always changing. Itâ€™s refreshing. Sometimes, after many changes, I end up right where I started, but at least I tried something new. And I prove to myself that my first idea was a good one. In the interest of change, this issue swaps out the Entertaining section (afterall, who really takes a recipe from a digital mag?) in exchange for more focused writing features. My initial purpose in this magazine was to marry great design with emotion-filled photography. Iâ€™ve come back to that more fully with this issue. The only words written are intentional. The people - they take you through their own stories alone. By people, I am, of course, referring to the lovers, photographers, florists and makers of every kind. A sincere appreciation goes to the lovely people who make up the wedding industry. Without their generosity, this would not be. Lastly, thank you , and enjoy! Nikkol
do not be in a hurry; depend upon it, the right man will come at last;
you will in the course of the next two or three years, meet with somebody more generally unexceptional than anyone you have yet known, who will love you as warmly as ever he did, and who will so completely attach you, that you will feel you never
really loved before.
jane austen to her niece, fanny knight
mariel hannah, photography fairy godmother, planning and styling
, s e e l r u t f e t o th n e r h e g u w o , l th d u e f t h t h o g l i r c l e e h d t y r t u f a th n o e t h in w w o , n e t k d s sta n i a y t , u d h a c n e u a b h m t e l a i h n be w e v i , g n e t y h e l l w y a u , t t c h a g r g o i s i f s s e n h i t a to em r re
mariel hannah, photography fairy godmother, planning and styling lacielle roselle, headpieces ladies and gents bridal, dresses brundage lane florist, florals de coure bake shop, desserts matinae design studio, stationery mr. tuxedo, tuxedo r & C films, videography custom creations, signs & decor rentals walker lewis, rentals we do your do salon, hair blissful retreat, makeup
W hat is t h e pu rpo s e o f yo u r eye? To produc e yo u r l ovel y B eaut y, grace I see yo u l o o kin g at me from a fa r. Your eyes, yo u r ever-s eein g , ever-pee rin g , p o rta l s to my s o u l . Did yo u catch m e? I swear my l o o kin g was pure l y a do rat io n . I chance a s m il e. A w ink fro m yo u . A t reasured g rin . W hile I go sw im m in g I n t he be a u t y o f yo u r eyes .
photography by alex steele photography
One day you will learn how to give and receive love like an open window and it will feel like summer every day.
alex steele, photography tinge floral, florals mrs. backers, cake elizabethâ€™s catering, catering vera wang & shawna schauers, gown vera wang, tuxedo digital memories, videography band, josh strauther cajun howe, hair jill nielsen, makeup natural history museum of utah, venue
Lindsey & Scott photography by ryan flynn photography
ryan flynn, photography sublime stems, florals alan olson catering, catering maggie sottero, gown salon maison, hair and makeup megan dobraz, officiant manchester state park, torpedo warehouse, venue
P pulling me in
â€œThe best kind of love is with the wrong people at the wrong time.â€? I read that somewhere once, and I thought of you and I. As we lie here, tangled in a sea of sheets, legs intertwined, hands clasped, I think back about it all. Summer was ending. A carpet of crushed peanut shells, empty PBR cans, and sticky shots of peppermint schnapps set the scene. You were fresh off a job in a small town, unshaven and unshowered; a dusty baseball cap shadowed your eyes. I was soaking up the temporary escape from reality and trying to forget someone else. I noticed you from my perch at the bar; you noticed me from your seat in the booth. Our eyes met. I saw those cool blue pools peering out from under the dark brim of your hat, and I gave my heart to you in an instant. We left. We walked. We talked. We exchanged numbers. And then we said goodbye. It would be the first of many. One month later, you called. One year later, here we lie.
The thick down comforter is heavy, but warm and soft against my skin. Outside, the sun shines, the leaves turn, the snow falls, and the rain pours, but all that matters is here and now. The world is no larger than a queen size bed. Hopes and dreams are shared between two pillows. I never want to wake up from this. The bells from the Cathedral of the Madeleine ring out. My eyelids lift. Our eyes meet. Morning light filters through the blinds, slowly filling the room with light. Your lips press against my forehead. You rise to make coffee, tiptoeing across the creaky hardwood floors. You return with two large mugs, steam dancing above them; black for you, a splash of cream for me. I put my feet on the ground; you pull me back in. I breathe in your scent of mud, pine, and smoke. I wiggle my way out of your playful capture, and walk to the closet. I zip up the back of a dress as you watch me in the mirror. “That looks nice on you,” you say with a smile. Our eyes meet. Our hearts are full. And so the day begins. Soon enough, the sun will set. The sky will be awash with wild brushstrokes of pink, purple, orange, and blue. It’s beautiful, but tinted with a melancholy that graces all endings. When darkness falls, time and time again, we find our way back to bliss, comfort, and serenity—to the safe confines of our place between the sheets. I always hated saying goodbye to you. But like the violet glow of the evening sky after the sun has dipped below the horizon, a part of our love will forever linger in my heart.
when no one else is watching
concept & styling by
nikkol christiansen, kate osborne, ashley beyer
kate osborne, photography tinge floral, florals peter loves jane, stationery petals and promises, gown celise artisty, hair and makeup, pippa cakery, cake ella bella floral, farm table, west elm, flatware and napkins the memorial house, location
It was rather beautiful: the way he put her insecurities to sleep. The way he dove into her eyes and starved all the fears and tasted all the dreams she kept coiled beneath her bones. chr i sto p he r p o i nd e x te r
stephanie sunderland, concept & photography
stephanie sunderland photography, concept, photography & styling
Love notes are clichĂŠ. From the dawn of time man has given woman his mementoes of ever-singing praise, tucking them into the corners of her mirror, leaving them on her pillow after a midnight escape, hiding them between the pages that carry her favorite soulscape; notes to be discovered with dream-filled eyes. Each of these jottings are nothing more than tiny papers written with a smile; words dotted with teardrops of love and signed XOXO . And through the centuries that these notes have been left with a wisp of parting devotion, women have claimed to be indifferent to the vacancy they cover. Many times I have asked myself why I care about these little papers. I could just as easily toss them to the fire and watch their life puff away in streams of smoke. But I donâ€™t. Not once have I ever. Instead one by one these notes are filed away, rolodexed by the holiday and the thoughtfulness for the gift given, birthdays, anniver-
saries, the day after we fight, the night before he wants something, the morning after I give it. I see them coming. I know what the words are before I even read them. I file them; I store them; I keep them with the belief that each one is a tiny piece of his heart that heâ€™s entrusting to me. And I say to myself, â€œYou have grabbed me, taken me, and with your salutation of love evermore you have made me yours.â€? With my finger I trace your handwriting, seeing in the scrawled penmanship your forgiveness for stretch marks, a refusal to see the lines of years stretching from my eyes, an adoration for skin long since blotched in the marks of age. I see love in your words, and that love soothes my aches and cheers my heart. In more ways than one I ask you to give me your notes. I desire them as much as I desire air. I need your thoughts, your memories of me for when life crashes against the shore and my beauty is dashed against the stagnant cliffs and rocks. Tell me I am your life, your love. Tell me that you need me more than you need your own freedom. Tell me that your own heart would wither without mine. Tell me. Please. In a note meant only for me.
a place where you canâ€™t remember, and you canâ€™t forget
photography by evelyn eslava photography
b ru c e s p r i n g st e e n
but into her secret garden don’t think twice
evelyn eslava photography, photographer floral designs by erin, florals annie of beecakes, cake and invitations danielleâ€™s bridal, gowns cali from versa artistry, hair and makeup diamond rentals, chairs and linens zara home, place settings thanksgiving point gardens, location
Mary and Zach Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What therefore God hath ajoined together, let not man put asunder. Matthew 19:6
photography by izzie rae photography
izzie rae photography, photographer calvary baptist church, ceremony location tuscaloosa river market, reception venue
special thanks to every team member who contributed
d their talents and creativity
Evelyn Eslava Photography Izzie Rae Photography Kate Osborne Photography Mariel Hannah Photography Ryan Flynn Photography Stephanie Sunderland Photography stylists Tinge Floral Fairy Godmother writers Julian Bounder Vivian Jones Tessa Woolf
p h oto g ra p h y by ev e ly n e s l ava , bo u q u et by f lo ra l d e s i g n s by e r i n
See you in October -