Colin & Victoria

Colin wore tweed. A dark flecked three-piece, an olive bow tie, round wire glasses and a family pocket watch on a chain, which tells you most of what you need to know about the look he and Victoria built together. She matched him in a beaded lace gown with a long veil and dark finger waves. Nothing about the day felt borrowed from a template. Even the flat lay had pressed botanical stamps, sparkling pumps and tiny scissors.

The first look happened on the checkerboard plaza outside Hartford City Hall, under columns and a pair of green iron lamps, and they never had to go inside for the building to carry the scene. From there the wedding party took over downtown. Bridesmaids in black and groomsmen in forest green lined up in front of carved doors, the guys crowded Colin outside an old barber shop, and the two of them crossed the street in front of a red terracotta landmark like they owned it.

At The Pond House, the ceremony happened in front of a stone fireplace with the fire going, Colin holding a small book while Victoria listened beside him. The reception hall had a wood-beamed ceiling, swags of gold fabric and a wall of tall windows. They swapped a slow first dance for something more theatrical, and the send-off was a tunnel of glowing bubble balloons, masked friends leaning in on both sides. I remember how warm that room looked against the dark outside.