(Heat, colour, and a wedding that actually feels alive)
If my dream Scotland wedding is soft and romantic, this one is the opposite.
This is sun sitting heavy on your shoulders. This is colour that doesn’t ask permission. This is a wedding that doesn’t stay contained to a single day, but spills into everything around it.
If I were planning my dream wedding in Oaxaca City, it wouldn’t just be about the wedding itself. It would be about building a few days that people get to step inside.
The Foundation: A Home Base in the City
Before anything else, I’d lock in where people are staying.
I’d rent a large hacienda in the city as a home base for my closest friends and family. Somewhere with enough rooms that mornings feel slow and shared, where someone’s always making coffee, where people drift in and out of spaces without needing a plan.
For other guests, I’d set up a room block at a nearby hotel that’s comfortable and well-located, and I’d organize shuttles to and from the venue so no one has to think about logistics.
And immediately, I’d bring in a travel advisor. Flights, coordination, guest questions—I’m not fielding logistics messages the week of my wedding. That’s how you actually stay present.
The Welcome Night
The night before, I’d host a welcome dinner at the hacienda.
Catered, but relaxed. Long tables, warm air, drinks already in hand when people arrive. The kind of night where different parts of your life start meeting each other for the first time, and it doesn’t feel awkward because the setting does the work for you. Twinkle lights and good food.
Just a soft beginning so by the time the wedding day comes, everyone already feels connected.
Turning It Into a Full Experience (Not Just a Wedding Day)
If people are flying to Mexico, I want it to feel worth it.
I’d create an optional itinerary that gives people direction without forcing structure. A cooking class one day, a hike up to the ruins another, a visit to a barro negro studio where we can try shaping clay ourselves. A walking food tour that turns into lingering in markets longer than expected, and nights where people wander into mezcal bars and don’t rush to leave. Maybe even a coastal day trip for those who want to extend it.
It wouldn’t feel like a schedule. It would feel like being let in on something.
Images sourced from Pinterest for inspiration only.
Here are some Oaxaca Haciendas you could rent
Some of these links are affiliate links, which means I might earn a small commission if you book through them—no extra cost to you, just helps support what I do.
The Venue: Agave Fields and Planteque Energy
The ceremony and reception would take place just outside Oaxaca City at a mezcal palenque or agave estate. Textural in a way that doesn’t need to be overdesigned.
It’s the kind of setting where you don’t want compete with it. I’d want to build around it.
One of the things I love most about Oaxaca is how deeply connected everything feels to the land. The food, the art, the pottery, the mezcal, the textiles, the markets. Nothing feels manufactured. It’s the kind of place where everything feels rooted in generations of people making things with their hands and passing those traditions down.
A mezcal estate feels like the perfect embodiment of that.
The agave plants themselves take years to mature. Some spend a decade growing before they’re harvested. Entire families dedicate their lives to the craft. The roasting pits, the stone mills, the copper stills, the smell of earth and smoke lingering in the air. There’s a history there that you can feel the second you step onto the property.
Maybe “holy” isn’t the right word, but it’s close.
There is something deeply reverent about standing somewhere that has been shaped by generations of care and craftsmanship. That’s exactly what I’d want my wedding to feel like.
I could weave almost everything I love about Oaxaca into that space without it ever feeling forced. The mezcal tastings wouldn’t feel like an activity I’d added for entertainment; they’d feel like an invitation into the culture itself.
I’ve been to beautiful venues all over the world, but my favourite wedding spaces are always the ones that couldn’t exist anywhere else. If you removed all the flowers, all the rentals, all the details, they’d still have a soul of their own.
A mezcal estate in Oaxaca is one of those places.
The landscape is already doing half the decorating for you. Rows of agave stretching toward the horizon. Mountains in the distance. Earthy colours. Smoke curling from a roasting pit. Golden light settling over everything at sunset.
If I’m asking people to travel all the way to Mexico for my wedding, I don’t want to give them a generic wedding venue that could exist anywhere. I want to give them Oaxaca. Every beautiful, colourful, historic, slightly chaotic piece of it.
What we’d Wear
I’d wear the Zara Dress by Ouma—clean, sculptural, and a little unexpected. It feels modern without feeling trendy, elegant without feeling fussy. The kind of dress that lets the setting shine while still feeling special enough for the moment.
My partner would wear a light beige or cream linen suit that feels effortless in the heat. My hair would be mostly up in a soft twist, with a few pieces left loose so it still feels like me. A long gauzy veil would trail behind me, catching the breeze as we move through the agave fields, and I’d incorporate something sentimental into the look; maybe bracelets or lace gloves made from my mom’s wedding dress.
Then, once dinner wraps up and the dance floor opens, I’d absolutely do an outfit change.
The ceremony dress would disappear and I’d come back in a bright fuchsia pink tulle dress. Layers upon layers of movement. Fun. Playful. The kind of dress that practically begs to be twirled around a dance floor under string lights.
I’d love it if my partner changed too.
You know those incredible embroidered Mexican suits with colourful floral details woven into the jacket? The ones that somehow manage to be elegant and joyful at the same time? If I could convince them, I’d be all in. Something tailored and beautiful with embroidery inspired by Oaxaca’s colours, plants, or traditional artistry.
I love the idea of us starting the day looking relatively classic and becoming more colourful as the night goes on. Almost like the wedding itself is loosening its tie.
The ceremony version of us says, “We’re getting married.”
The reception version says, “We’re about to spend the next four hours on this dance floor and nobody is stopping us.”
Against a backdrop of marigolds, agave fields, mezcal cocktails, and warm Oaxacan nights, it feels perfect. This wedding was never going to be beige. The reception outfits shouldn’t be either.
The Ceremony
Guests wouldn’t walk into silence or confusion. They’d arrive and immediately be handed something, mezcal shots for those who want them, bright woven fans for the heat, and paper umbrellas I’ve hand-painted with patterns inspired by Oaxaca.
It gives people something to do, something to hold.
Seating would curve inward toward the altar instead of stiff rows, pulling people into the ceremony rather than keeping them at a distance. The altar itself would be layered with marigolds, agave leaves, piñas, bright pink prickly pears, and trailing red amaranthus.
Cocktail Hour (Where the Energy Shifts)
After the ceremony, everything would loosen.
A mariachi band would lead people into cocktail hour. Drinks would already be flowing. Not a line at the bar, but something more fluid.
Guests would move naturally between moments; mezcal tastings, watching a tin heart artist at work, a cigar roller quietly doing his thing, people wandering into the agave fields just enough to feel immersed.
It wouldn’t feel like a scheduled hour. It would feel like their own personal tour of Oaxaca bundled into one spot.
The Reception
Dinner would happen outside, fully open air, leaning into the night instead of trying to control it.
Tables filled with marigolds, bold pinks and oranges, agave leaves, and red amaranthus trailing down the edges.
Dinner would be served family-style. Food passed between people, shared, a little messy in the best way. Tacos, mole, dishes that feel abundant instead of curated for perfection.
And one of my favourite details: an interactive tortilla station where guests can press their own tortillas, brushing hibiscus onto the mold to imprint a subtle design before cooking them on a hot blacktop.
Images sourced from Pinterest for inspiration only. These are not my work.
The Party (And the Outfit Change)
The music would build naturally throughout the evening. A live band would carry dinner, weaving itself into conversations rather than competing with them. Something energetic enough to keep the atmosphere alive, but relaxed enough that people are still lingering over another drink and one more story.
Then, as the sun disappears and the sky starts turning that deep indigo colour Oaxaca does so well, the DJ takes over. The volume creeps up. The dance floor slowly fills until it becomes the centre of everything.
Because I’m not sitting politely at my own wedding.
I want sweaty curls, sore feet, half-finished cocktails abandoned on tables because someone got pulled back onto the dance floor. I want the kind of party where people look around at midnight and realize nobody has left yet.
And then, just when everyone thinks the night is winding down, a churro truck rolls in.
People wander over still carrying drinks, shoes kicked off somewhere nearby, laughing with powdered sugar on their faces.
The kind of memory people bring up years later when they’re talking about the wedding.
Photo + Video
I’d want a photographer who brings energy, can take control when needed, but knows when to step back. Someone like Stephanie Mason would understand that balance immediately.
The older I get and the more weddings I photograph, the more I realize that great wedding photography isn’t really about taking beautiful photos. It’s about reading a room.
I don’t want someone who’s afraid to take charge when family photos need to happen or when we’re losing light and need to sneak away for portraits. But I also don’t want someone who inserts themselves into every moment. The best photographers know when to lead and when to disappear.
I want someone who understands that the wedding itself comes first.
The photos are important. Obviously. I’m a photographer. But I don’t want to spend my wedding day being pulled away from conversations, meals, and moments with people I love because we’re chasing another photo opportunity. I’d rather have slightly imperfect photos from a day I fully experienced than perfect photos from a day I barely remember.
Because I’m a photographer, I know exactly how much trust I’m putting into someone else’s hands when I hand over that responsibility.
I’d want everything captured on both digital and film. Digital for the full story, the reliability, and the ability to document everything as it unfolds. Film for the texture, the softness, the colours, and that slightly imperfect quality.
Film feels especially right for Oaxaca.
While I know plenty of people think content creators are unnecessary, I’d absolutely have one there. I’d hire one because I don’t want to think about documenting my own wedding at all.
I want my phone buried in a room somewhere while I’m busy drinking mezcal, eating tacos, and dancing with the people I love. I want all the little behind-the-scenes moments captured without asking someone else to do it. The blurry clips of people laughing. The way the tables looked before guests sat down. The spontaneous moments that don’t always make it into a wedding gallery but become some of your favourite memories later.
The entire point of this wedding is being present.
So I’d build a team I trust enough that I never have to think about documenting it myself.
The Details That Make It Personal
This is where it becomes mine.
Images sourced from Pinterest for inspiration only. These are not my work.
Images sourced from Pinterest for inspiration only. These are not my work.
Dress Code and Guest list
The guest list would land somewhere between 50 and 80 people.
Enough for a packed dance floor and great energy, but still small enough that every person feels intentional. No filler invitations. Just the people who know me well, love me fiercely, and will absolutely be the reason we’re still partying at midnight.
The dress code would be colourful cocktail attire. Elevated, but not overly formal. Think bright colours, light fabrics, linen suits, flowing dresses, fun prints, and plenty of personality.
Most importantly, I want people to have fun with it.
Bring the sunset oranges, bougainvillea pinks, cobalt blues, and emerald greens. Bring the statement earrings. Bring the woven bags.
And please, for the love of all things Oaxaca, bring a hat.
Lots of hats.
More Than a Wedding, A Love Letter to Oaxaca
Ultimately, my dream wedding in Oaxaca isn’t about perfection.
It’s about creating a few days that feel so unapologetically us that people couldn’t imagine them happening anywhere else.
I want guests to step off the plane and immediately feel like they’ve been invited into an experience. I want shared meals, late-night conversations, too many mezcal cocktails, and the kind of laughter that carries across a courtyard long after the music stops.
I want colour everywhere. I want artists and makers to be celebrated. I want people wandering through agave fields with drinks in hand, staying on the dance floor longer than they planned, and leaving with stories they’ll still be telling years later.
Most of all, I want it to feel alive.
A little messy. A little loud. Full of warmth, movement, and people I love.
The kind of wedding where people leave saying, “That was so painfully Sophie.”
That’s probably the highest compliment I could ask for.
