People tend to imagine this job as a glamorous blur of lace and soft lighting, and some days it genuinely is. But most days look a little more ordinary than that, in the best possible way, and I think the reality is worth sharing honestly.
The morning nobody sees
My mornings usually start before the studio does, steaming wardrobe pieces, testing lighting setups for the day’s specific session, queuing a playlist built around whatever mood the client and I talked through in her consultation. There’s coffee involved, always, and usually a quiet hour of simply preparing the space so that by the time she walks in, everything already feels intentional instead of thrown together.
There’s a particular ritual to it. Checking that the robe hanging by the changing area is pressed. Making sure the water glasses are filled and waiting, not an afterthought I remember halfway through the day. Small things nobody consciously notices, which is exactly the point. A room that feels effortless usually took real effort to build that way.
What clients don't see happening in the background
Behind every polished session is a fair amount of unglamorous problem solving. A steamer that decides to malfunction ten minutes before arrival. A wardrobe piece that doesn’t photograph the way it looked online, requiring a quick pivot to something from the client closet instead. None of this ever reaches the client, because part of the job is making sure the chaos stays entirely on my side of the door.
The parts that make me laugh
Clients are, without fail, funnier than they expect to be once they relax. I’ve had entire sessions where the most striking images came directly after someone tripped slightly on a robe, or misheard a piece of direction in a way that sent us both into genuine laughter for a solid two minutes. Those moments never make it into a portfolio caption, but they’re some of my favorite parts of this work.
Editing, late at night, with questionable snacks
The less glamorous truth is that a huge portion of this job happens after the studio lights go off, alone, editing a single gallery for hours while everyone else is asleep. It’s slow, detailed work, and it’s usually fueled by something I’d rather not admit to eating at eleven at night. But it’s also where I fall in love with a session all over again, watching a woman’s expression shift frame by frame from guarded to entirely herself.
I keep the lights low during these hours, just the glow of the monitor and whatever’s left of the coffee from that morning, gone cold hours ago. It’s a strange kind of intimacy, sitting alone with someone’s most vulnerable images, and I don’t take that responsibility lightly, even at midnight, even tired.
Why I still love this, session after session
After years of doing this, the technical parts of the job have become second nature. What hasn’t gotten old is the reveal, watching a woman see herself clearly, maybe for the first time in years. That moment is the entire reason the steamer malfunctions and the late nights are worth it.
If you’d like to be part of a session day yourself, I’d love to have that conversation. Book your consultation.
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