Book The Shoot Mama | How I Ended Up Frolicking Through Paris in Pajamas and Still Loving My Portraits

Let me start by saying: I did not book myself a portrait session in Paris.
I’m not that kind of person. At least, I didn’t think I was.

But earlier this year, I found myself sitting in a café on L’île Saint-Louis with Katie Donnelly, my gorgeous, outrageously talented friend and fellow photographer—about to be photographed. And not just casually photographed, but “real camera, real lens, real vulnerability” photographed.

This wasn’t some glamorous plan I cooked up in advance. It happened because Katie had teamed up with another creator for a giveaway, and I was lucky enough to be gifted a session as part of it. If she hadn’t basically handed it to me, I never would have done it.

And here’s why:
I wasn’t feeling my best. At all.

Let’s talk real talk:

I was at the tail end of a two-week trip to France that included:

• A generous helping of food poisoning

• Contact dermatitis all over the tops of my feet

• Walking 20,000+ steps a day in spite of illness and irritation

• And all the fun hormonal changes that come with perimenopause and middle-age

To put it plainly: my skin was acting up, my body felt unfamiliar, and nothing I packed (or panic-purchased) was giving “chic Parisian street style.” The night before the shoot, I dumped everything out of my suitcase in a desperate attempt to put together an outfit that felt like me. Nothing worked. I went to bed defeated.

In the morning, I gave up and settled on the pajama top I’d actually slept in, a pair of jeans, and my old reliable black blazer. I tossed on a scarf I’d found at Monoprix—which, to be honest, I wasn’t even sure was my color—and called it done. It was the most boring, basic outfit imaginable.

And I seriously considered canceling.
But it was a free shoot, I reasoned. If I hated the photos, I could just...not buy them. No harm done.

So I walked out the door (shoutout to my €25 blow-dry brush from Darty for doing more to boost my confidence than anything else I brought on that trip) and met Katie for coffee.

This is where the story changes.

From the very beginning, I told Katie I wanted the session to feel more like street photography than formal portraits. I wanted candid shots that captured the rhythm of Paris. Something that reflected the way I see the city through my own lens.

She chose the location without hesitation: L’île Saint-Louis. One of my absolute favorite places in all of Paris. It was like she peered into my heart and chose it on instinct. We started the morning at Saint Regis Café, catching up like old friends (even though we’ve only really met a couple of times, since she lives in Paris and I am not so fortunate). Katie has this gregarious, magnetic personality that makes you feel immediately at ease. Like you’re not “being photographed,” but just hanging out.

We wandered through the quiet island streets and made photos, and by the time we parted ways, I was surprised to realize... I’d actually had fun.

Still, I wasn’t expecting to love the images. I hoped, maybe, for one or two good ones—just enough to justify having shown up for myself.

Reader, I ordered thirty-one.

Katie’s associate, Magda, walked me through the photos that afternoon, and I was floored. Genuinely shocked. I culled anything I didn’t love and still ended up with forty-five favorites. I somehow narrowed it down to thirty-one (progress?), but not a single part of me expected to feel that way about photos of me.

I looked carefree. Playful. Dare I say…beautiful?
Not because I looked perfect, but because Katie saw me. And she photographed me with love, and skill, and the kind of intuitive eye that only comes from someone who really knows how to see people.

I ordered an album (because I’m not a wall-art girl and choosing one photo was clearly out of the question), which included all the digitals. And now I have this little book of joy. A Parisian day, captured forever, where I felt more like myself than I have in a long time.

So what’s the point?

Book the damn photoshoot.

Stop waiting to lose the weight.
Stop waiting until your hair grows out.
Stop telling yourself you’ll do it when your skin clears up or your style is better or you have “something to celebrate.”

You are worth photographing exactly as you are.
Not because you’ve reached some mythical version of “ready,” but because this moment—this version of you—is worthy of being seen.

Let someone else show you what the rest of the world already knows:
You’re beautiful now.

So throw on the blazer. Or the pajama top. Add the scarf, even if it’s not your color.
And go get in front of the camera.

I promise—you’ll be glad you did.