OUR FOOD BANKS HAVE BARE SHELVES

It is one of the most superb summers we have seen in years. The sun has been glorious, the beaches full and the temperature reaching record highs. What does this mean? Weekend breaks, summer outings and camping trips into our divine BC wilderness. Good times I would say.

However,  for a large number of your neighbours, there is no camping; no weekend picnics on the cool beach. It is  a time of absolute worry and concern… “how will I feed my children?”

The basic needs we all have are:  food, water, shelter air. That’s it! Stop for a moment and think how you would feel if something were to happen in your life to remove your ability to access just one of these vital staples for life. If you were to suddenly find yourself unemployed with a young family; suffered from a mental or physical illness that would prevent you from working… look around and your eyes would soon fall on a neighbour who just could be in this position. It could happen to anyone of us. I have seen this happen to someone.  A split second changed their life and their ability to work for several years. It was only through the love of friends and family and support of programs such as the food bank and community services that they were able to not only survive the trauma of a terrible accident, but take the time they needed to rehabilitate and return to work.

Christmas is, in general, the time we tend to hear about the food bank. Individuals, companies and other community groups generously gather food or money through fundraisers and proudly present it to their local food bank or one of many community programs. That is wonderful… really and truly wonderful, but what happens afterwards? The trees are taken down, our pants are finally loose enough to button up again and the cold and frosty days are slowly being replaced by the smells and colours of Spring. What then? We feel great that we did our part to help those in need so that their families could also enjoy a warm and festive season, but those needs are still there.  Spring is here and as we begin to pull out our  dusty patio furniture ready for another six months of bocce ball and BBQ’s there are still so many families who struggle to obtain the basics.

It is over the Spring/Summer months that the Food Bank really needs assistance. Here is a link taken from the Abbotsford Times http://www.abbotsfordtimes.com/story.html?id=8738609  showing just how dire it is in the Abbotsford location. Please, if you have a moment, read through and see the list of services the food bank provides for its community. It might surprise you.  Any food bank near you will gratefully welcome a food donation at anytime, but they have an amazing buying power so $3.00 of cash will buy them so much more than our $3.00 worth of food. With that in mind, I am going to try and do my part to help fill their bare shelves.

HERE’S OUR AWARENESS CAMPAIGN:  From now until October 31st, we will be offering a 45 minute session for only $25.00 BUT instead of making your cheque payable to us, it will be payable to your local food bank. 

  WHAT’S INCLUDED you ask? One fairytale gown of your choice with three beautiful locations to choose from:  Sendall Gardens in Langley; Stewart Farm in White Rock; Bear Creek Park in Surrey. You will receive the same quality service you have come to expect from Claire Reid Photography, in a fun-filled 45 minute session. Once your images are ready, you will have the opportunity to see your proofs in your own private viewing page on our website. These sessions are first come first serve until Oct 31st, 2013. Images are not included. To find out more or to book your session, please email us:  info@clairereidphotography.com

To view a sample of our work, please visit http://www.clairereidphotography.com

Please help us spread the word and in turn, fill the bare shelves of the food bank. Anyone can help. Even if a fairytale or portrait session isn’t for you but you have a product or service you feel comfortable donating, why not start your own awareness campaign. Awareness will encourage the ongoing understanding and support these programs need in order to survive.

Thank you all for reading this. The first step toward awareness is the time you invest to learn.

Much love

Claire

 


Dreams, as told by the Dreamer.

To dream is a gift we must all embrace

To dream is a gift we must all embrace

“To dream is a gift we all have. To believe in what we see, well that’s something entirely different.”  Claire Reid

Those who have followed my work over the years (and thank you to those who have) will have seen an evolution of style. The early days of Claire Reid Photography feel as distant to me as Henry Ford’s days of designing the worlds’ first automobiles. Simply put, many lifetimes ago. Don’t get me wrong, this is a great thing. I have evolved as an artist and met some of the most amazing people on my journey here, to this wonderful and exciting place I am at creatively. I have been inspired and learned to trust the insanity of what I saw when I focused on who I wanted to ultimately become as an artist. It might seem silly now, but imagine if you will, a photographer effectively closing their doors to weddings, newborns, maternity and all other mainstream areas where people would typically pick up the phone and call. Scary!

It was too late; I had already fallen in love with an idea. Why can’t people be taken away from the normality and pressures of their daily lives to live the fantasy or fairy tales that they once did as children. Why do children have exclusive access to this world? A little make believe and mythological romance is incredibly healthy for people of all ages.  I have to confess, I never played with dolls as a child. Relevance? I don’t know, maybe it’s part of the reason why I love playing dress up so much now… making up for lost experiences. What’s wrong with that? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! You are never too old to believe in fairies, wizards or even crazy funny gnomes… even if it is just for one hour! Being turned into a princess and frozen within that moment forever is a gift you will bring to future generations of “would be dreamers”.

And so my journey began. I had shared with you in one of my previous blogs the story of the single dress that got me started. Long story short… I was walking past a bridal shop one day, feeling uninspired by the direction my craft was taking me, when BAAM! The dress that all my future gowns would fall upon was staring back at me. There was no way I was going fit into it, but that didn’t matter. Someone would and I wanted to be there when they did. I bought it. The first of my collection and the defining moment of my artistic journey.

Okay, I know… blah blah blah, Claire! Move on already… fine! So here I am five years later and a bigger dreamer than I have ever been. My collection of gowns has grown to well over 100 (and still growing) as have my countless accessories of swords, vintage hats, wigs, jewelry, bird cages, musical instruments, fairy wings, furniture… you get the idea. Fairytale central.

I’m writing this today to try an inspire those of you who are dreamers at heart to allow the fairytale in. Let the romance steal your breath and capture hope. It’s not only okay to feel like a princess, it’s a wonderful way to celebrate this time of your life. Whether you want to do that in a gown, or yoga pants, JUST DO IT! I try not to regret many things in life… the old saying there is no future in the past and all that jazz… but I do have one. I have very few pictures of me when I was younger. I hid from the camera. Why? I was too chubby. My hair didn’t look nice. I had a zit… the list goes on I promise you. Here I am many MANY years later and all I have from those moments in my life is the fading memory. I wish I had more pictures to look back on because I am almost positive, my idea of chubby back then would be a wishful goal these days! It doesn’t matter what we THINK we look like now, I can guarantee you that in twenty years you’ll appreciate just how beautiful you really were. So that’s my regret, and because of this I have made it my goal to create as many stunning images of as many beautiful souls as I can. They say a photograph is worth a thousand words… I disagree. I think I’d prefer mine to be speechless.

So that’s a why I do what I do. That’s why I continue to get excited by each and every shoot as though it were my first; because to the person before me, it could very well be their first time in front of a camera. Everyone is beautiful. Every age; shape; size; everyone! Please don’t hide from the cameras in your life. Seek them out. Have dozens of pictures to look back on and groan, smile or cringe. This is your moment. This is your generation. Embrace it or time will sneak up on you and steal the moments you have to smile :-)


A FAIRY TALE LIVES WITHIN US ALL

March.2012.promo2 I am often asked, “Why fairy tales?” The answer… I don’t know. If I’m honest, I wouldn’t want to have to come up with any one answer anyway. Okay, that sounded a little abrupt; let me clarify.   For as long as I can remember, I have been an incorrigible dreamer. I have lived in a world-even if that world exists solely within my own being-where  dreams have as much place in reality as the staples of  day to day existence. To look through a magical window and see an audience of possibilities staring back at you is one of the most powerful feelings in the world, and probably one of the rarest. We are so caught up on the path beneath our feet as adults that we have forgotten the inner child still living within us. The greatest gift we all possess is our ability to dream. That’s where hope lives.

Fairy tales are simply an extension of this reality. The romance, beauty, epic stories… they are all a way to encourage our dreams to take flight. There is magic in every moment we live if we now how to look for it. You can start you search behind the stone of possibility. When I stage a fairytale shoot and create the imagery that I do, I am simply helping you find a little magic. Being able to create a setting where you can safely and  wholeheartedly leave the  path of prediction and necessity to become your own fairytale is my most treasured gift.

Just because tlinseyfinal.fbhe world can’t see your wings, doesn’t mean you aren’t an angel…

Whether your fantasy shoot is a princess or an angel… or even The Queen of the Wood fairies… I have you covered.

woodfairy.fb

If you are looking for a more subdued experience… less fairies, more fashion, then we also have the glamorous “Dresses and Divas” sessions. You still get to play dress up and I guarantee you won’t leave feeling like you just had a boring old portrait session. You will be the bell of the ball… without the castles, dragons and fairies to distract you.blog

It doesn’t matter how you choose to embrace the dreamer living inside of you, it just matters that you do. We want to create magical and timeless pieces that will be enjoyed by generations… much like in the castles of old, where portraits were painted and hung over the fireplace for generations to remember and share tales of their ancestors. These too are heirlooms in the making and never simply a picture taken.grad8

I’m not sure if this really explains why I have become so passionate for fairytale photography, but is there really one good answer? I don’t think so. Until I tire of the smiles I see on the faces of each new dreamer I meet, I’m going to continue breathing in the magical moments and smiling back at each and every one of you.

NOW THE EXCITING PART… It isn’t enough to simply read about why I love what I do, or see images that you aren’t attached to as they decorate this article… you really need to experience it for yourself. Sooooo, for a limited time only, I am designating Sunday’s from March 3rd until June 1st as STORYBOOK SUNDAYS. Don’t just take my word for it… come on out and experience it for yourself!March.2013.promo.FB

Thank you as always for taking the time to read my words and being a part of my crazy journey and I look forward to being a part of yours.
Much Love
Claire


AND NOW A CHAT ABOUT FAIRYTALE PHOTOGRAPHY-For the photographer and dreamer in us all.

I have been asked a lot lately… “How in the world do you come up with your ideas?” The answer is… I have no answer. Well, not a cookie cutter answer anyway. I suppose it’s just inspiration once I see, touch and smell something. I’m serious! Our senses are wonderful tools for the creative process. That and the the fact, as most of you know, I am passionate about writing, so I tend to see everything as a possible story. Everything has the potential to be a future legend…

For as long as I can remember, I have been fascinated (okay, maybe obsessed is a more fitting word) with anything magical, mythological or just plain supernatural. Long before we all became fixated on vampires that sparkle and the werewolves that pursue them, I found excitement within the pages of Celtic legends and folklore. I will admit that Cinderella as told by Disney wasn’t what I had in mind when it came to fairytale romance. Mine fell closer to the mark of the mythological Lady who walked into the lake to protest the unfair treatment of her clan folk, remaining there as a guardian to all who dared to drink from her body of water… appearing only to those who were true of heart warriors. Rising in a glowing halo of mystical light with her double edged sword proudly held above her, she would glide to the shore. Draped in garlands of white daisies, her still youthful body was almost hidden beneath hair as brilliant as woven gold. (from The Lady in The Lake~by Claire Reid)

Can you imagine this? Can you see in your mind’s eye the vision of such a magical being? I can. You must first visualize the legend, then believe the story before you dream of touching your camera.

It doesn’t have to be a fairytale that has already been penned, it can be a story you create and make your own. Find a location, look around and imagine. Could there have been an epic battle for the heart of a princess where the dragon’s fire was pitted against the would-be Prince’s fire stealing sword? Maybe you are in the woods where the daughter of the King runs to be with her love, the son of a peasant farmer. Forbidden to be together yet too in love to remain apart… regardless of the consequences.

Can you see where this is going? It is NEVER a picture taken, but rather a story told. The next time you are walking around, stop and feel. If it inspires you, then maybe your fairytale needs to be told right there. On that spot.

As the Fairytale Photographer, this is what I do. I do not simply stand you up or sit you down, cross your arms and yell out “Smile”. I paint the picture then I yell “Action!” You are the main character in your story. You are the fair maiden or troubled Prince. The magical witch or the elusive fairy. When we are on set, you are the star and the final images are the story as you tell it. I am simply the director who sits out of view of the camera… sure, I might win an Oscar one day…heehee… but it is the one who’s eyes light up the camera that will be remembered… immortalized for generations to look back on and admire every time they see their story through such imagery.

I want to share a couple of examples of what I mean.

Here you can see a simple (and very poorly lit if I do say so myself) ancient room taken in the crypt of Gloucester Cathedral, England. When I shot this it was simply to reference the feel of where I was standing. The cool stone. Ancient architecture and the real sense of being far below river level. It to this day still floods and the water staining on the stone walls and floors is what prompted this story. I started to imagine this place beyond the 1000 year old building that it was. I was very fortunate to receive the privilege of being in there alone with my camera, so there were no distractions of other camera flashes or people stepping into the space before me, allowing my imagination to kick into high gear. The best advice I can give you is, get connected. Touch is one of the most powerful senses we have. Use it! The rough and cold stone really helped to transport my mind to a hard and troubled time. Away from the comforts of contemporary life and into the depths of the darkness… almost into another realm of existence.

Before

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The story that I wanted to tell, the one that was unfolding before me, was of a place long before the modern era of stone cathedrals and sophisticated castles. It was from a time where this room would have been created only by magic, for magic. A time where mortals still lived in carved out hillsides, cloaking themselves from the dark beasts that patrolled the skies above. DRAGONS!

This was the story:

The fair Princess Athenica, daughter of the Fourth King of Perugasis, was captured by the Great Dragon, Caerwyn. She was to be held in his lair until the King offered her hand in marriage to Prince Owain, eldest son of King Ramuthicas of Carleon-Haf. Prince Owain was a wicked man of little virtue and insurmountable greed. A coward to the core, King Perugasis would not allow such a marriage to take place. When he denied the ransom demand, Prince Owain, true to his evil nature, sent word back to the King… “I will give you seven days to grant me your daughters hand and if you have not done so by the moon’s light on the seventh night, then the gate shall be raised and the crypt will flood with the belly of Shadborth River.”

AFTER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ahhh, I bet you want to know how this one ended, huh? Well that’s the beauty of fairytales… they generally have a happy ending, whether that involves a Prince coming to slay the dragon, or the Princess using a few cunning tricks of her own to escape.

Here are a couple of other before and after images:

The castle as seen by anyone

BEFORE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And after I have had a fairytale vision

AFTER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BEFORE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

AFTER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So you see…. it is all about the vision. It is NEVER simply a picture taken.

A little about the fairytale service… We have managed to collect 85 gowns over the past couple of years to ensure that you really will be a princess for the day. We have swords,lanterns, jewelry, and too many other props to begin to list, all to ensure that your dream really can come true. Whether you want a full fairytale session with your own coffee table book to share the story you want told, or just to fee like a princess for an hour so we can create your own timeless imagery, we will have an option to suit you.

With sessions beginning at only $69.00 (including wardrobe) what are you waiting for? Let us create your next piece of magic!

I would be so happy to chat with you in detail about our unique service, so please call or email at anytime if you have any questions.

Thank you for taking the time to read this and for being a part of my journey… I look forward to being a part of yours!

 

Much Love

Claire


The Great Escape

It was raining so hard that the determined droplets of water felt more like tiny stones being thrown from a heaven that I was doubtful even existed anymore. How could it? All that I had held as sacred and true was gone…forever.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been trudging up Cowell’s Lane, nor did I really care. Forever might have already come and gone, but I continued to drag myself forward with zombie-like precision. An eventual end would find me, preferably at the edge of a cliff. There was a poetic irony to the storm clouds that covered the light of the late summer moon and had I possessed an ounce of humanity as I fumbled my way through the darkness, I would have laughed at the poem.

Any familiarity I might have had for this route meant very little as I awkwardly stumbled into every water-filled crater of the old dirt road. Praying with each awkward step that the night would find day before I was lost to this darkness forever. Praying to a God that I hated. That I deplored for His blind eye and false promise. Nonetheless, hating in the darkness offered my mind much needed companionship.

A small glimpse of the moon’s illumination would have been a welcome release, but the abrasive light of a car’s high beams only burned my eyes. Wildly bobbing up and down on the pot-holed road, it was coming right at me with reckless intention. I almost didn’t move. I really didn’t want to… but I suppose the natural instinct for survival took over, and before I knew what had happened, I was face down on the side of the road, just before the first row of the mature cornfield. The sliding sound of tires on wet dirt was all it took to snap me out of my trance and bring me back around to the heart stopping fear my mind had successfully removed as I fled. They had found me.

Too scared to breathe, I let my face fall completely into the murky water of the irrigation ditch. The taste of mud and stagnant water threw my gag reflexes into overdrive as my mouth began to fill, making it painful to hold back a natural need to cough. The trench was no more than two-feet deep, hardly enough cover for even this dark night, but it was all I had. The car came to a final stop about twenty feet up the road although the engine still rumbled loudly, echoing through the miles of abandoned farmers fields. Footsteps followed and the growing sound of crunching dirt that came with every deliberate step threw me further into a paralysis that only true catatonia could induce.

“You sure you saw her?” A man spoke first. His voice was gruff, like someone who had smoked for too many years.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Keep lookin’.” This time it was a woman. She sounded cool, almost sultry. They didn’t speak with our southern accent, which oddly made me that much more uncomfortable

“She could be anywhere, Lorna. Maybe we should head back and grab the others.”

“NO!” The woman barked back. “I’m not going back without her. Go tell Frank to bring the car around. We can use the headlights.”

“Sure thing.” I could just about hear the man turn and pick up speed as he headed away from where we were. I was grateful that they hadn’t seen me beneath the flow of water just to their right, but that cover would be no match for the headlights of a car. I had to get away and fast if I was going to escape at all.

The driver had begun his navigation of the narrow lane, turning, reversing and repeating. It would take a car of that size a few attempts to maneuver around, so I had no choice but to make my move while I could still rely on the blanket of darkness to cloak me. There was a very good chance that the woman would be looking toward the beam of light that the headlights were throwing out over the cornfield and not the pitch black ditch I was being swallowed by, so I raised my head just enough to draw in a deep breath of air before allowing the rest of my body to follow.

The engine was loud, made even louder by the revving, so I would have the advantage of not only darkness, but also a cover for any noise I might make.  I quietly and cautiously pulled myself from the stream of dirty water, clambering to my feet and pausing as I positioned myself into a squat that a sprinter would hover in just before the gun was fired. There might not have been direct light on me, but there was still a chance that any of them might catch a glimpse of the changing shape within the black night so I didn’t wait. With a quick glance over my left shoulder I could see the slight outline of a woman, and the position of the car, now almost completely turned around. One or two more forward and back movements and the driver would have his high beams directly on me, so I leapt. It was a small jump to the top of the ditch and maybe ten feet to the cornfield. The heavy rain and the car’s engine would have probably covered the sound of my movement, but for the loose rock that gave way as I scrambled to high ground. My reaction to the searing pain—as my left knee fell onto the jagged stone—was immediate and regrettable. I screamed.

“Smitty! Quick! She’s over here.” The woman hollered over to the others as I continued to pull myself up with ferocity. I don’t think it took me more than two strides to close the distance between the road and the welcome cover of the cornfield. I knew my knee was bleeding badly because there was a warmth to the moisture that had joined the rain, running down my shin.

“Hurry.” She continued to scream. The car was free, and rumbling closer with every step I took. My desperation to escape almost paralyzed me, but adrenalin founds its way back, kicking me to run faster. Running because you have nothing left to go back to changes everything, coupled with intense fear and one might be unstoppable. Time had no place now. I just ran.

This was like a dream; a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up. No, it was more like the morning after a nightmare when it takes you a few minutes to convince yourself it was only a dream and that none of it was real. I was trying to convince myself that none of it was real, but I couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t allow me forget what I had seen and I doubted it ever would. When I had woken up early that morning, it was just like any other early September morning…. full of promise. I was happy and ready for the beginning of my final week of last minute wedding planning. There was nothing I had wanted more than to marry him, the man I had loved since high school. We had endured the torture of being separated during a war that seemed to take most of our friends. Beautiful souls, lost. The wait was impossible, but I waited nonetheless. Inspired by the dream of our future, if only God would see His way to protect and guide him home to me. The very night he arrived back—to a hero’s welcome no less—was the night he proposed. He didn’t even have a ring yet, but I didn’t care. I would have been happy with a roughly cut strip of tin as long as he was the one to put it on my finger. It was all so perfect. Maybe it was too perfect.

Much like my trek up Cowell’s Lane, I had no idea how long I had been running for. Too scared to stop and catch my breath, yet knowing that the final plea from my lungs had just been sent. I had no choice now but to slow my pace if only to keep from collapsing. I moved along less furiously, but I still moved. The rain had begun to ease and the sky overhead was breaking up with the first hint of dawn.

The swaying green giant’s all fought over which one would be the next to reach out their arm and pull me off the uncertain path I was treading. With each additional step into my jungle prison, I struggled to convince myself that every new shadow coming to life with the rising sun wasn’t one of my pursuers waiting for a chance to offer me an unceremonious end. I knew that my ultimate destiny would eventually be found beneath the heavy hammer of finality but how I met that end… well, I wasn’t inclined to consider many options.

There was a faint trail of smoke making its way into the sky just beyond where I stood, likely from the chimney of one of the remote farmhouses that were scattered across these plains. I was out of options, tired and cold, so decided to take my chances and ran once again. Freedom and safety appeared to be getting closer with each thunderous step I took. There was more light coming through the wall of green that had been surrounding me for hours, which prompted me to slow my pace to a pensive walk. The brighter it became, the slower I stepped until there was only one row of corn separating me from my sanctuary. I drew in a deep breath and finally pushed through the last step of my earthly confinement.

This couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. Frozen with shock, brought on by seeing the car I had just escaped. The headlights still burned their way into the bright morning light. Five men and one woman were scattered around the green lawn of the old farmhouse, all pointing guns directly at me. This was it and every fiber of my being knew it.

“You silly girl. You really thought that running would do you any good?” The woman asked. I was right, she really did have a style and beauty that matched the cool voice I had heard echoing in the dark. Well dressed and clearly the one running the show, it was difficult not to be intimidated.

“Yeah, well you can’t blame a girl for trying.” I replied as dismissively as I could, considering just how many guns were on me.

“I can and will blame you, Cissy. What I would like to do is let my boys here take care of you the way you deserve, but I’m nothing if not civilized.” She sneered as she began to stroll towards me. I shifted my eyes from the men, back to her and then over to the farmhouse. Where was the farmer? Hiding, or locked away? She stopped when she was less than a foot from me and reached out to gruffly grab my arm.

“Cissy Ferguson, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. Do you understand these rights?” She spat the words at me, turning me roughly and tightening the handcuffs well beyond the point of even slight comfort.

“Yeah. I got it.” Is all I said. She pushed me firmly towards the car, and into the back seat. My head caught the edge of the door as I fell into my seat, surprisingly relieved that it was over. Looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life would not have been a life. Funny, now that the chase was over, before it really began, I was ready.

The blood, which covered my blouse, was completely hidden by dried on mud. His blood. I pulled the trigger on any chance of joy my life might have known, even if it was going to have to be without him. I never understood how rage and jealously could prompt anyone to do such things, but here I was, locked in the back of a car, now one of those people who would be paraded over every newspaper for at least a week of sensationalist reporting. “Girl kills finance and her best friend after learning of their betrayal.”


THE STORY OF THE GOWNS

Goddess of the Sea

We are often asked about our fantastic locations and breath taking backdrops, how we find them and what inspires us to select them. To be honest, it’s not really any one thing that draws us to a particular area, but rather the feeling we get when we imagine the yet to be created masterpiece of the subject sitting before the artist. We love epic. Why go small and safe when we live in Beautiful British Columbia, right? Come on… you know we’re right! :-)

The Legend of Rhiannon

We receive many emails with questions about our services, the story behind all the imagery and my fave… where do we get all of our gowns? Well, please allow me to answer some of these questions for you today. Let’s start with the question of gowns and not only where they come from, but more importantly why we started to collect them in the first place. We receive several a year by donation from clients and fans who don’t necessarily want to take up valuable real estate in their own wardrobes but also don’t want to discard them all together. Our gown exchange program has been very successful over the past couple of years (gown donation= session and images) and we love the variety that we receive by offering this service.

Another source has been vintage stores both here in Canada and in Europe… again ensuring a wide variety of choice. On a recent trip overseas we managed to obtain a 1932 original formal gown, shoes and head dress… unfortunately the restoration process will keep this one out of the collection for some time. We have a few fairy and medieval gowns as well and they are custom made for our studio… which reminds me, there are 3 more period dresses coming. (16th to 19th century)… watch this space ;-)

The Wood Nymph

Okay, so that is the how, now let’s move onto the why. Why not? That seems like the best answer here. Why not escape the expected and embrace the realm of what if? What if you could be a princess for a day, wouldn’t you want to do it? Just once? Allow yourself to be pampered, made over and have a team of attendants waiting on you as you have each spectacular moment captured. Maybe it was just my childhood dream to be a princess, and though I wasn’t to be one myself (missing out on William by over a decade) I would grow up to make the dreams of others come true through a vision of fairytales and fantasy.

It began with a beautiful gown I saw in the window of a bridal shop one miserable and wet Wednesday afternoon in New Westminster. The dress seemed to glow amongst the dark and dismal concrete… like it was calling out to me specifically. With the sudden downpour, our shoots were canceled but there were still two hours on the meter, so off I went. I should say that I am one of the rare souls who loves the rain, so I grabbed my brolly and headed for Columbia Street. (for the record.. New West is one of my FAVE locations for street photography) Anyway, in I went, wet but smiling… and heading directly for the display in the front window.

“Can I help you?”asked the seven foot stick person sporting more bling than I thought her body capable of supporting.

“Yes, please. This dress is amazing. Like a princess should be wearing it.”I answered, but spoke more to the dress than the woman who had no choice but to look down at me.

“Yes it is, but it’s our last one, so we aren’t able to offer you any other sizes to choose from (referring to the fact that the dress was a size 2 and … well I’m NOT)

“I don’t care. I really want this dress.” So after a lengthy discussion about the price (of which I am still trying to catch my breath from today) I paid, smiled and walked back into the rain with my brolly, my new garment bag and a vision.

So that is how this all started. A beacon of gold chiffon and lace. (sadly that gown is  no longer with us, but it will forever be remembered as the ONE that changed the course of my photography) Here we are, a few years later and still creating fairytale moments for those who dare to dream. All right, let’s be fair here and also mention the other side of being a princess… let’s also celebrate those who prefer the darker side of fantasy. Vampires being the latest fashion must… and then there are the timeless Vintage fans who prefer to embrace old Hollywood glamour and Film Noir edge. We have enjoyed rising to the ever changing challenges of dream making. Tell us your vision and we will create the dream.

Once Upon a Time

Thank you to everyone who has supported us over the years and for allowing us to capture your memories. A huge thank you to the team of wonderful stylists and fellow dream makers who work tirelessly to make sure that illusion becomes reality… if only for a fleeting moment.

Much Love

Claire

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IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO…HMMM.. READ ON…

If you are familiar with my style of… well everything, you will know I am about nothing if not the magic and mystery of life and imagination. So I was excited to learn that July is going to be a pretty special month as far as wonderment goes. Here’s why…

July has 5 Fridays, 5 Saturdays and 5 Sundays. This happens
once every 823 years.

This year we’re going to experience four unusual dates.
1/1/11, 1/11/11, 11/1/11, 11/11/11

and here is the really interesting thing….

Take the last two digits of the year in which you were born – now add
the age you will be this year, and the results will be 111 for everyone in the entire world… apparently.

This is just a little bit of ‘interesting’ to finish your day with…

 

We’ll chat really soon

Much Love

Claire

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