Sofi and Diego live in El Paso, Texas. They got married in Guadalajara because Sofi's father is from here, and she wanted to marry where her family begins. The wedding was planned by Oswaldo Martínez; the morning happened at a hotel in Providencia, and everything else —the dress, the first look, the ceremony and the party— at Casa Clementina, in Zapopan.
What I remember first about that day isn't a place. It's that the two of them spent hours waiting to see each other, like few couples I've photographed. And once they were finally together, they didn't let go: at the ceremony, among their guests, on the dance floor, there was a complicity between them that seemed to say "no one, absolutely no one and nothing, is going to ruin this day we wanted so much."
This is the story of that wait, in the order it happened.
The morning, in a meeting room
Sofi got ready at NH Collection Providencia, on Sao Paulo street, in one of those hotel rooms that host business meetings during the week: the projection screen was still on while her mother, her cousins and her grandmother had breakfast and took turns in the makeup and hair chairs.
Sofi laughed through most of the morning.
And there was a moment that wasn't hers. Her grandmother opened a card, raised a hand to her mouth, and a few seconds later she was crying, with another woman in the family hugging her from behind. Those things always happen in a corner, while everyone is looking at the bride.
The bridal suite
Past noon we drove to Casa Clementina. There's a bridal suite there, with stone walls and wooden doors, and that's where Sofi finished getting ready.
The dress hung in front of the door for a while, waiting too.
She put it on with her mother and her cousin, unhurried: the long veil spread across the floor, the buttons down her back, the silver heels.
Once dressed, she stood at the window for a moment, looking out at the garden. It wouldn't be long now.
On the other side of the garden
Diego arrived with his father. A white orchid on his lapel, a few laps around the lawn with him, and the same wait, on the other side of the house.
The first look, with vows
A little before four, Diego stood in the middle of the garden with his back to the house and his hands clasped. Sofi came out of the suite and crossed the lawn toward him. That's the cover photo: him still not seeing her, her already on her way.
They met, they laughed, he took her face in his hands.
And right there, more than two hours before the ceremony and with very few people around, they read each other their vows. Diego read his from a sheet of paper; Sofi listened with her eyes full of tears.
By the time the guests started arriving, the most intimate part of the day had already happened. They had kept it for the two of them.
The ceremony, and the night that caught up with us
The ceremony began at 6:20 pm in the garden. Sofi walked in on her father's arm, her veil trailing across the grass and the sun already very low behind the palm trees.
Before the rings, Diego hugged his mother.
In early October the sun sets in Guadalajara a little before seven. By the time the rings came, the light was going, and the kiss happened under the last blue of the sky.
They walked out among their guests with the white facade already lit. Night had caught up with us, and nobody minded.
The party
The reception was under a ceiling of white fabric. They walked in at eight thirty with their arms in the air and danced their first dance among cold sparklers.
During the toasts they laughed at everything anyone said to them.
Then came the dances with their parents: Diego with his mother, Sofi with her father.
And then, the confetti.
Sofi danced all night.
Close to midnight I found them together again in the crowd: Diego whispering something in her ear, Sofi doubled over laughing. It's what I kept noticing about them all day. The complicity of two people who had waited a long time for that day and had no intention of letting anything take it from them.
Getting married in Guadalajara when you live in El Paso
If you're in the same situation —living in the United States and marrying in your family's city— this is what made their day work, seen from where I stood.
A planner on the ground. The wedding was put together by Oswaldo Martínez, in Guadalajara, while they lived more than a thousand kilometers away.
Two places, one move. Makeup and hair at the hotel, with the whole family together; the dress, in the bridal suite at Casa Clementina. Sofi made the trip without the dress on and got dressed where she was getting married.
Vows first. They read them to each other at the first look, at four in the afternoon. When the ceremony began, they had already lived the most intimate part almost alone.
The ceremony time. At 6:20 pm in early October, daylight lasted just long enough for the ceremony; the walk out was already in the dark, with the facade lit.
These are the times from that day, read from my files:
- 11:10Makeup and hair in a room at NH Collection Providencia, with Sofi's mother, cousins and grandmother.
- 14:20The bridal suite at Casa Clementina.
- 14:45The dress, with her mother and her cousin.
- 15:30Diego arrives with his father.
- 15:59First look in the garden; at 16:06, the vows.
- 18:20Ceremony in the garden.
- 18:44The kiss and the walk out, at dusk.
- 20:32Grand entrance and first dance.
- 20:46Toasts.
- 21:43Dances with their parents, and the confetti.
- 00:20The bouquet toss. The party kept going.
If you live outside Mexico and want to get married in Guadalajara, take a look at packages and pricing or write to me directly. And if you're curious how I work when a wedding is far from home, here are the destination weddings I've photographed.