The brief
A first birthday at a garden restaurant in Sanur — old frangipani trees, lawn, sea light. The family are Ukrainian, a long way from home, and the guests were mostly adults. What they wanted was a set worth photographing their daughter against, and a lunch nobody had to organise on the day.
What we built
A soft arch in blush, carrying her name and age in gold script in her own language — <i>Анжеліка, 1 рік</i> — with cut butterflies rising across it and oversized paper peonies, hibiscus and roses built out from the base. A balloon garland running eleven shades from palest blush to deep raspberry, white plinths to stand her on, and fresh flowers in glass. The guest table ran along the grass in pink linen with candles, roses and peonies down the centre.
How the day went
Gently, and mostly in her mother's hands — at one, that is the whole programme, and pretending otherwise is how first birthdays go wrong. Then the bubbles came through the trees, thousands of them, and the older cousins ran the lawn catching them while the fathers stood in the middle of it with children on their shoulders. She stood on the plinth in a pink tulle dress for about forty seconds, which was all we needed.
What the parents got
One perfect frame — mother, father, both children, that wall behind them — and a lunch under the trees they actually sat down for. Nothing loud, nothing frightening, and nothing for them to carry.
