
Some days, in between the ordinary rhythm of life, I find myself revisiting weddings from years gone by. Quiet moments. Familiar faces. Photographs that hold far more than what’s visible in the frame. And every time, I’m reminded of why I still love wedding planning – not in a loud or showy way, but in a deeply personal one.
After all these years, it isn’t the scale of a wedding that stays with me. It’s the trust. The moment a couple decides to book with me is never just a transaction – it’s an invitation into something deeply meaningful. They’re handing over a day that will live with them for the rest of their lives, and they’re trusting me to hold it with care.
Each couple brings something different. A different energy. A different story. Different hopes, nerves, excitement, and quiet fears. No two ever feel the same, and they never blur together. I carry their day with me long before it happens – thinking about how it will feel, how it should unfold gently, and how to protect the calm around it so they can simply be present with each other.
That’s what still matters to me.
I’ve never believed weddings should feel rushed, pressured, or shaped to fit expectations that don’t belong to the couple. What I care about is creating space – space for meaning, for connection, and for moments that feel true. The kind of moments couples don’t perform, but live.
There’s a quiet responsibility in this work that never leaves you if you’re doing it for the right reasons. You don’t forget the weight of it – and you don’t want to. It keeps you attentive. It keeps you human.
This site is not here to sell weddings.
Elopement Journal NZ is my personal place to write – to reflect, remember, and share the story behind the work I do. It’s where I speak honestly about weddings, people, and the moments that stay with me long after a day is over. There are no packages here, and no expectations – just my own words, written quietly, for those who choose to read them.
When couples do find their way here, I hope what they feel most is sincerity. That they understand they matter. That their day won’t be treated as just another booking, but as something personal, worthy of care and respect.
Because even after all this time, that part has never changed.
And it never will.
Donna
Donna
