The Stuff I Wish I’d Known Before That Wedding Photo Disaster

You know what’s worse than looking terrible in a photo? Spending three hours getting ready and still looking terrible in a photo. This happened to me at my buddy Mike’s wedding about two years ago, and I’m still not completely over it.

Picture this – I’d actually planned my outfit for weeks. Navy chinos that cost more than I want to admit (don’t tell Lauren), a light blue button-down that the sales guy swore was “perfect for outdoor events,” and these leather loafers I’d been saving for special occasions. I looked in the bathroom mirror before we left and thought, damn, Patrick’s got it figured out. Jackson even said I looked “fancy dad” which I took as a compliment coming from a seven-year-old.

Then the wedding photos got posted on Facebook.

Sweet Jesus. There I am standing next to Lauren looking like someone’s unemployed uncle who borrowed clothes that don’t fit. The shirt’s bunching weird around my middle, my posture looks like I’m apologizing for existing, and somehow I appear to have gained fifteen pounds between the mirror and the camera. Meanwhile, standing right next to me is Mike’s cousin Derek – wearing what I swear was a Target shirt and pants that probably came from wherever Derek shops, which knowing Derek isn’t anywhere expensive – and this guy looks like he should be modeling watches in a magazine.

That photo bothered me for months. Not just because I looked bad, but because I couldn’t figure out what went wrong. I mean, I write about this stuff for a living, right? I should know how to not look like a disaster in basic wedding photos. But apparently there’s a difference between knowing what looks good in theory and actually pulling it off when it matters.

So I did what any reasonable person would do – I became completely obsessed with figuring out why some guys always look good in photos and others, well, don’t. Turns out there’s actually science behind this stuff, and it’s not just about having good genetics or expensive clothes.

First thing I learned – and this was embarrassing to realize – is that how you stand changes everything. I was standing the way I always stand, which apparently is like someone slowly deflating. Shoulders slightly forward from hunching over a computer all day, head tilted down from constantly looking at my phone, spine curved in that “office worker who’s given up on life” posture that feels totally normal until you see it in photos.

The guys who look good in pictures stand differently. Not like they’re at military attention or anything, but chest up, shoulders back, chin parallel to the ground instead of tilted down. It feels weird when you first try it – like you’re trying too hard or posing for some dramatic portrait. But in photos it just looks… normal. Confident. Like you’re not apologizing for taking up space.

I practiced this in the bathroom mirror for weeks, which Sophie thought was hilarious. She’d catch me standing there adjusting my posture and announce to the whole house that “Daddy’s making his fancy face again.” Kids are brutally honest critics, I’ll give them that.

The change was pretty dramatic though. Lauren noticed before I even told her what I was doing. Asked if I’d been working out or something, which was flattering since my workout routine consists mainly of chasing Sophie around the playground and carrying Jackson when he claims his legs are “too tired” to walk from the car to the grocery store.

But here’s the thing that really got me – it’s not just about standing up straight. It’s about understanding that cameras see clothes differently than mirrors do. That shirt I wore to Mike’s wedding? Felt perfectly fine when I put it on. Little bit of room to move, comfortable for a long day of wedding activities, not tight anywhere. In photos it looked like I was wearing my bigger brother’s clothes.

Cameras flatten everything out, so clothes that feel fine in real life can look sloppy in pictures. The guys who always photograph well wear stuff that’s cut closer to their body than what most of us are comfortable with. Not tight exactly, but with less extra fabric floating around. This was a hard lesson because everything in my closet suddenly felt too big.

I took a couple shirts to my tailor – this older guy downtown who’s been altering clothes since before I was born – and explained my photo situation. He laughed and said this happens all the time. “Men think comfort first,” he told me while pinning my shirt to fit closer to my torso. “Camera doesn’t care about comfort. Camera sees shape.”

He took in my shirts by maybe half an inch through the sides. Such a small change I barely noticed it when wearing them, but the difference in photos was huge. Suddenly I looked like someone who owned clothes that actually fit instead of someone borrowing from the lost and found.

Colors and patterns are another thing entirely. That light blue shirt I wore to Mike’s wedding looked great in my closet. Nice color, went with the navy pants, seemed like a safe choice. In photos it kind of disappeared. Just became this bland, forgettable thing that made me blend into the background.

I’ve figured out that textured fabrics photograph way better than smooth ones. Oxford cloth shirts, wool with some texture, anything with a little dimension to it. Smooth fabrics just look flat in pictures. And tiny patterns – like small checks or thin stripes – can create this weird shimmering effect on camera that makes everything look cheap.

Learned this the hard way when I wore a gingham shirt to Jackson’s school awards ceremony. Looked fine in person, but in all the photos it had this strange rippling effect that made it look like I’d bought it at a gas station. Lauren was too polite to say anything, but I could tell she was wondering what I’d been thinking.

Now I stick to solid colors or bigger patterns that actually show up in photos. Navy, medium gray, darker colors that have some substance to them. Light colors tend to wash out under camera flash, and really dark colors can look like black holes where detail disappears.

The other thing nobody tells you is that you need to adjust your clothes right before photos get taken. Watch guys who always look good in pictures – they do this subtle thing where they straighten their shirt, adjust their collar, make sure everything’s sitting right. Takes maybe three seconds but makes a huge difference.

I’ve developed this mental checklist now. Shoulders back, check. Shirt tucked properly, check. Collar lying flat, check. Sleeves sitting right, check. Sounds ridiculous but it works. At Lauren’s work holiday party last year, her coworkers kept asking if I’d lost weight or gotten new clothes. Nope, just finally figured out how to not look like a mess in pictures.

Facial expression is huge too. Most guys, myself included, make this weird face when they know they’re being photographed. Kind of a forced smile mixed with “please let this be over quickly” that comes across as either uncomfortable or vaguely threatening. The guys who photograph well have practiced looking relaxed and natural, which is harder than it sounds.

I spent way too much time practicing expressions using my phone’s front camera. Felt completely ridiculous but it helped. The trick is to think of something genuinely funny right before the photo gets taken, or just exhale slowly to relax your face muscles. Makes your expression look natural instead of like you’re being held hostage.

Grooming matters more in photos too. Things you don’t notice in the mirror – stray hairs, skin that’s a little oily, eyebrows that have gone rogue – show up clearly in pictures. I’ve started paying more attention to these details, especially if I know photos are likely. Nothing dramatic, just making sure everything looks intentional instead of accidental.

The biggest revelation though was realizing that confidence shows up in photos. If you’re uncomfortable or self-conscious, it reads immediately. The guys who consistently look good in pictures aren’t necessarily the most handsome – they’re just comfortable being photographed. They’re not performing exactly, but they’re aware someone’s looking and they’re okay with that.

This took practice for me. I’m naturally more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it. But thinking of photos as communication rather than just documentation helped. Instead of trying to disappear or get it over with, I started thinking about what I wanted to communicate – that I’m present, engaged, someone who has his life reasonably together.

Got to test all this theory at another wedding recently. Same level of care picking my outfit, but now I knew how to make it work for photos. Chose a textured navy shirt instead of smooth cotton, had it fitted properly, practiced my posture, remembered to adjust everything before group photos. The difference was dramatic. Finally looked in pictures the way I thought I looked in real life.

Lauren noticed immediately when the photos got posted. “You look really good in these,” she said, which coming from your wife is either genuine praise or she’s relieved you finally figured it out. I’m choosing to interpret it as praise.

The thing is, all these adjustments that make you photograph better also make you look better in real life, even if you don’t always notice it yourself. Proper fit, good posture, paying attention to details – these things matter whether there’s a camera around or not. It’s just that photos force you to confront the gap between how you think you look and how you actually appear to other people.

Look, I’m not saying everyone needs to become obsessed with looking perfect in photos. Life’s too short and kids don’t care if your shirt fits properly – they’re going to get peanut butter on it anyway. But understanding these basics means you don’t have to cringe every time someone tags you in a group photo. And in a world where everything gets documented and shared, that’s probably worth the effort.

Plus, Sophie’s stopped making fun of my “fancy face” practice sessions. Now she just assumes daddy knows what he’s doing with clothes, which feels like a win even if we both know I’m still figuring it out as I go.