There is nothing—I repeat, NOTHING—half-assed about a microwedding. 

Some of the most luxurious weddings I’ve witnessed weren’t defined by a 200-strong guest list, a seven-tier cake, and a monogrammed ice sculpture (but, I mean, live your truth). 

The ones that were the most luxurious and deeply felt of all happened around long tables lit by candlelight, where less made room for more.

That vibe is exactly what we landed at Paris Dining Club—a cozy, candlelit dream of a space that’s basically what would happen if your favorite European dinner party and your Pinterest board had a baby.

This felt like the kind of wedding you’d want to have ten times over: intentional, detail-driven, and entirely swoon-worthy from start to finish.

We’re talking designer florals. Wicked-but-make-it-whimsical tablescapes. Curated linens that were definitely not an afterthought. A dress that deserved its own close-up. And lighting that made me want to simultaneously cry and high-five myself.

So if you’re dreaming of a wedding that’s small in numbers but big on vibes? Buckle up, buttercup. This one’s for you.

Vendors | Venue: Paris Dining Club in Downtown Minneapolis | Videography: Ever North Films | Content Creation: With Love Always Media | Floral: Reverie Floral Design | Tablescape Rentals and Coordination: Revelyn MPLS | Linens: Haven and Gather + BBJ La Tavola | Hair: Sydney Benson | Makeup: Beauty by Mae | Model Couple: Kaiya Boldt + Alec Boldt | Dresses: Anna Bé Bridal Boutique | Suit: Milbern Clothing Co | Macarons: Lily Bean Bakery

Prioritize fewer guests so you can host your microwedding like you mean it

There’s something wildly underrated about being able to look every single guest in the eye and actually talk to them. Not the rushed, half-hug, “So glad you’re heeeere!” between courses, but real-life, heart-filled, stay-awhile conversations with your favorite people.

When your guest list goes micro, your capacity to be present goes macro.

You’re still the host, but you’re more the sit-down-and-belly-laugh-with-your-people kind of host. The remembers-someone’s-drink-order-and-throws-one-back-with-them kind of host. The hugs-them-twice-instead-of-waving-from-across-the-dance-floor kind of host. 

Fewer guests doesn’t mean fewer vibes. It’s vibes multiplied.

The pressure drops, and presence opens the door to a kind of luxury that’s personal. The wine gets better. The florals get bolder. The menu gets tasted. And the whole night of your microwedding feels like the most stunnnnnnning dinner party of your life.

I’m going to hold your hand when I say this, but… you are just not meant to spend your wedding day sprinting between seventeen different conversations while mentally checking off a timeline. You’re just not.

Make every detail count (and then some)

Okay, let’s just go ahead and toss this wedding myth (among many other wedding myths) in the trash: just because your wedding is small doesn’t mean that it can’t be extravagant.

Case in point? The tablescapes at Paris Dining Club. I’m talking tables dressed to the freaking nines in the most intentional way—nuanced plates, carefully sourced linens, textured layers that were honestly a whole mood.

Because the bride and groom weren’t dressing, you know, twenty-five whole tables, they could choose the really good stuff. Like… the “yep, we’re going full luxury now” kind of good stuff.

Now for the flowers. I mean, GET OUT, are they not the most stunning things you’ve ever seen?! Like the most intimate french-style garden party of the fête champêtre variety (tres chic).”

Everything in this microwedding felt upscale, not because it tried to be but because it was thoughtful. Every element had a reason, and every detail told a story. Nothing more, nothing less. 

I mean, when you only have fifteen chairs and four tables total, there’s freedom to really go all in with your favorite things. You get to choose the high-end flowers. The dainty plates. The organic wine that makes your friends cry happy tears.

You get to be a little over the top about it.

This microwedding was real proof that intimacy and luxury aren’t opposites—they’re pretty much a perfect match.

Let the microwedding timeline breathe (especially for photos)

Okay, but someone tell me why couple portraits are the first thing to get cut when the timeline falls behind.

I mean, the two of you are the WHOLE point— everyone’s real life couple goals wrapped in tulle and tux and a hundred inside jokes, finally getting their forever-and-ever-after. 

And yet, the part where I photograph just the two of you, caught up in alllllll the feelings, somehow gets treated like it’s… optional? The math ain’t mathin’.

I’m sorry, but literal, emotional, photographic space to spend more intimate time together should be a wedding day given, not a ‘nice to have.’

And a microwedding gives that… generously. 

Having a microwedding frees you up to NOT do 1,000,000 wedding party photos and instead prioritize you and your family. It gives you time to take it slow. Maybe even do something crazy like (I’m just spitballing here)… take a photo in front of the reception space you spent months curating down to the last candlestick.

The shots of the bride and groom in front of their tablescape that you see on your screen? That almost never happens. Not on a typical wedding day, anyway. Not when you’re forty minutes behind and people are getting hangry. 

But when the microwedding timeline breathes? So do you. And suddenly… you get to be a little present and maybe even a little (read: a lot) handsy, while you’re at it.

You get to see the beauty you planned. You get to enjoy the thing you built together instead of being rushed here, there, and everywhere. 

You spent so much money on your microwedding reception space, why not be in it?

Enjoy a little head-on-shoulder, this-is-our-life kind of quiet surrounded by the flowers you picked, the linens you obsessed over, the glow of the candles you may or may not have sourced from Italy (no regrets). 

That’s not just ambiance—it’s an entire atmosphere you created together. And it lingers in the microwedding photos like a scene you keep replaying in your head.

Give the space (and light!) a chance to tell their side of their story

The lighting in this space almost gave me anxiety… until I realized it was giving cinema. 

The sun pouring in through the massive window at sunset (stunning, obviously), the chandelier giving European feels, and the overhead lights switched off. Each corner of the room held onto a different level of shadow, and ALL of it felt cinematic. 

When the sun dipped down a little bit more? That one natural light source lit them up in the most goosebump-y, romantic, movie-filled way. I used to shy away from direct sunlight, but now… I’m full-sending it because shadows and light tell SUCH a good story.

If everything is just beautiful and golden hour-esque, it doesn’t tell the same story as high noon, or when a single shaft of light filters across your partner’s face at the exact moment their smile reaches their eyes. 

And let me tell you, when the sun had already set and we already were fully in a candlelight-only type of situation, the couple portraits reached peak intimacy. You can FEEL how in love they are, in every single frame. 

Could I capture those kinds of portraits on a big wedding day? Absolutely, I could (and I do). But when there aren’t 700 guests waiting to rush in, get their spots, and stash their bags, you can be a little bit more intentional. 

No distractions. No pressure. Just two people snuggling at a candlelit dinner table in a kind of stillness that makes you hold your breath behind the camera. (No seriously, someone needs to remind me to breathe so I don’t pass out taking these shots.)

It’s personal. It’s elevated. It’s what luxury really means: being able to spend your day doing exactly what you want to do— unrushed, unfiltered, and unfazed.

The vibe at this Paris Dining Club microwedding felt like a dinner party hosted by the most elegant, wildly-in-love couple you’ve ever met. And honestly? If Adam and I could redo our wedding, this is how I’d do it.

I’d book an intimate space. I’d gather twenty of our favorite people. I’d pay for a private chef and light every candle we could find. I’d toast slow and laugh loud and stay in the moment instead of managing it.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with a big wedding (obviously, I love me a big wedding). There’s just something really special and magical about getting to spend it like this, about knowing you have the option.

A microwedding isn’t lesser. It’s not a plan B. It’s the main character energy you didn’t know you needed.

You don’t have to fill a space with bodies to make it feel alive. Sometimes, the romance lives in what’s left out.

(And it just so happens to look reaaaaally, really good in your photos, too.)