Brides `trash’ gowns for charity.
The wedding dress. It’s the kind of garment many women fantasize about for years. They dream of choosing the perfect white wedding gown, wearing it down the aisle and . . . frolicking through a messy, muddy auto wrecking yard. That’s the philosophy behind the new post-wedding photography trend Trash the wedding Dress.
On an unseasonably warm and sunny October Sunday in Saskatoon, seven recent brides and seven Professional Photographers of Canada memebers staged a non- traditional wedding dress photo shoot. The goal was to create some fantastic and unusual images and raise money for the Children’s Hospital Foundation.
One of the first Trash the wedding Dress photos ever taken shows a woman standing beside her dress as it goes up in flames, said Mandy Harding, one of the photographers behind the event. But the shoots aren’t always that extreme. For the most part, the only scary part of a Trash the wedding Dress session is the $100 dry- cleaning bill. Harding herself did a TTD shoot after her 2009 wedding.
“People are always scared when you use the word trash. But when I did mine we went in the river and it came out cleaner than when I went in,” she said. “On a typical wedding day, most photographers try to play it safe and get really beautiful images, whereas with this type of shoot we can really experiment with lighting, with the brides and do crazy poses that might not be suitable as a picture for grandma.”
Though many would balk at the idea of risking a pristine wedding dress - some of which cost thousands of dollars - most brides never wear their dress again. But they can share pictures with family and friends for years to come.
Each bride donated $500 to the Children’s Hospital Foundation to be part of the event, which Harding hopes to make an annual shoot. The photographers, aestheticians, jeweler and limo driver all volunteered their time.
Harding said the charity was an appropriate choice considering the next step in the life of many newly married women is children.
1:55 p.m.
Six photographers, laden with camera bags and giant lenses, meet on a 20th Street corner and discuss their plans for the day. The crew includes Harding, Gina Yesnik (Gina’s Portraits), Stuart Kasdorf, Danielle Stasiuk, Deborah Pellettieri (Divine Images) and Dave Stobbe. Each photographer will be paired with each bride for a 20-minute photo session.
A seventh photographer, Grant Romancia, arrives and says “I can’t wait to get one of these brides in a dumpster.” Turns out that’s not an exaggeration.
2:05 p.m.
A limo pulls up. The first thing to emerge from the stretch SUV is a sparkly silver stiletto. A billowing cloud of white and cream fabric is not far behind, as eight women emerge in their wedding gowns. There is not a groom in sight.
2:11 p.m.
Bride Michelle Banga happily hops atop a dumpster and flashes a rock salute as Stasiuk, the woman who shot Banga’s wedding day, snaps away. “I am not taking this dress home with me,” she says, excited about getting as dirty as possible.
2:14 p.m.
Most of the women are almost shockingly confident, willing to trust in the photographers’ suggestions from Frame One. A bit more on the nervous side is Rachel Dyck. Married two years and now mother to a 15-month-old, she admitted she wasn’t sure what to expect. Only 10 minutes in, Stobbe has her climbing a wire fence. In about five hours, she will be confidently draped over the open hood of a broken-down white car.
2:17 p.m.
In one 20th Street back alley, Harding and her bride Rene Giard draw a small crowd of smiling but confused onlookers. Harding gives instructions like “less smiles” and “really stick out your boobs.” The photographer proves it’s not just the brides that will be getting dirty, as she spreads out on the ground to get to the perfect angle. After Harding spots some glass, she moves Giard out of the way. “We want to trash it, not get it all bloody,” she says.
2:22 p.m.
Just down the street, bride Miranda Cressman is sitting on the back stoop of a blue house. Lori Modjeski, of Simply Posh Jewelry, asks “Do you want me to move that garbage can?” Yesnik says, “No, it’s trash the wedding dress baby.”
2:47 p.m.
Stobbe and Kasdorf set up camp along a wall scrawled in black spray paint with “No Parking.” A local walks by and grumbles “why would you want a wedding dress picture here?” (Expletives removed to protect young readers.)
2:57 p.m.
Hems of dresses are starting to get noticeably dirty, but the wedding gowns are intact.
2:59 p.m.
An hour into the shoot the most common refrain heard from the photographers is “yes, yes, yes or you look amazing.” The girls all smile and say “this is so much fun.”
3:47 p.m.
The brides arrive at Wanuskewin. A little boy is thoroughly unimpressed by the whole event since several shoots are keeping him out of the park’s outdoor playground.
4:05 p.m.
Most of the photographers take advantage of Wanuskewin’s spectacular landscape, but each one sees something different. After capturing his bride in the idyllic autumn setting, Romancia takes bride Christiana Beaudin to a less obvious location. Through his lens, even the venue’s industrial air conditioner is beautiful.
4:35 p.m.
Kasdorf takes dramatic shots of Banga laid out, model pout in effect, in front of the Wanuskewin building. An older man snaps pictures of his wife casually standing beside the buffalo statues nearby. The contrast is adorable.
5:04 p.m.
The group arrives at Affiliated Auto Wreckers, the last location of the day. “Those dresses look pretty good still,” says Kasdorf, almost sounding disappointed. With menacing dogs barking in the background, the yard workers look a bit bewildered by the whole experience.
5:20 p.m.
Melanie Wildman, who just happens to be Mrs. Saskatchewan Galaxy, sits on top of a piece of machinery, with her crown placed delicately to her side. Rows and rows of ruined cars have the photographers acting like kids in a candy store, deciding which location to choose first.
5:22 p.m.
Bride Justine Marchua changes into rubber boots and drapes her body across the hood of a crumpled red Pontiac. Around the yard, the sound of bending metal can be heard as brides fearlessly climb atop vehicles.
5:33 p.m.
Banga is finally actually trashing her wedding dress. The bottom half is coated with dust as she shoots with Stobbe. “I got the man, I don’t need the dress,” she says. Minutes later, Banga will plop herself into a mud puddle, submerged from the waist down. She will change into someone else’s trench coat for the limo ride home.