What to Wear for Family Photos

Everything I tell my families the week before a session.

The colors that survive golden hour, the one thing that ruins more beach sessions than anything else, and why you should start with the hardest person in the family to dress.

Every family asks me this about a week before their session, usually late at night, usually after an hour of scrolling. What do we wear?

The short answer is clothes that work with warm evening light and with each other. The longer answer is the one that actually helps, so here it is. This is the condensed version of the guide I send every family once they book, and it'll get you most of the way there on its own.

Navy, cream, denim. Three people, one palette, nobody matching.

I

Start with the hardest person to dress.

There's always one. Usually it's mom, sometimes it's a teenager, occasionally it's a four year old with firm views about a particular dinosaur shirt. Find the outfit that person genuinely feels good in, and then build everyone else around it.

The reason is simple. If you start with the easy people, the hard one gets whatever's left over, and you can see that in a photograph. Somebody who doesn't like what they're wearing stands differently. They tuck an arm in, or they hold the jacket closed, or they angle away from me all afternoon without realizing they're doing it. No amount of good light fixes that.

II

Texture does more than color does.

Knits, linen, corduroy, raw cotton, suede, denim with some age on it. Texture catches low evening sun and gives the frame something to hold onto. A flat, smooth, brand new shirt photographs flat, no matter what color it is.

Then give me one thing that moves. A dress with some weight to it, a long cardigan, an open shirt over a tee, a jacket someone can push the sleeves up on. Movement is most of what makes a family photo feel like a moment instead of a lineup, and fabric that moves helps me get there.

• Layers earn their place. A cardigan or overshirt that comes on and off gives us two looks with no changing, and it gets cold fast once the sun drops.
• Fit before everything. Oversized is great when it's clearly on purpose. Shapeless just photographs as shapeless.

III

The colors that survive golden hour.

I shoot in the last warm hour of the day and I edit into that warmth rather than correcting it out. So colors already in that family look like they belong, and colors that fight it look like a mistake even when the outfit is lovely on its own.

Warm and earthy is the safe ground. Browns, rust, mustard, terracotta and camel. Sage, olive and dusty blue in smaller doses. Cream, oatmeal, taupe and tan doing the quiet work in between, holding everyone together.

Three to skip

• Bright white. It blows out in this light and holds no detail, so it pulls the eye off your faces and onto a glowing shape. Cream, oatmeal or ecru does the same job and looks better on everybody.
• Heavy black. It goes flat and swallows all the warmth around it, turning into a hole in the frame. A deep chocolate brown or a soft charcoal gets you the same look with light still in it.
• Neon and electric colors. They bounce colored light straight up onto skin. This includes the soles of shoes, which is the one that catches people out.

Color that holds its own against all that sand and sky.

IV

The beach has its own rule.

Search for beach family photo outfits and you'll get white shirts and khaki pants, over and over, on every board. It's the most common plan I see and it's the one that works least.

Tan pants disappear into tan sand. A white shirt reflects late sun up under everyone's chin. Put the two together against a pale beach and the whole family washes out with the tide.

The fix is to go deeper and warmer than feels natural. Rust, olive, mustard, denim, camel. Anything with enough saturation to stand apart from all that light behind you, instead of dissolving into it.

Your family doesn't look like anybody else's. That's the whole reason you're booking this. Dress like it.

V

Coordinate. Please don't match.

Same family of colors, different pieces on different people. Nobody should look like they were issued a uniform on the way out the door. Matching outfits date a photograph faster than almost anything else you can do to it, and in ten years the matching is the only thing anyone will notice.

One or two patterns for the whole group is plenty, with everyone else in solids. A soft plaid, a loose floral, a wide stripe. Skip the tiny high contrast patterns, the fine checks and thin stripes, because they shimmer and buzz at a distance and there's no fixing it afterward.

VI

The small things nobody thinks about.

These are the ones that never come up until I'm looking at the back of the camera. None of them are hard, and all of them are completely invisible right up until they aren't.

• The drive over is what wrinkles you. Everyone leaves the house looking sharp, sits through half an hour with a seat belt pressed across their chest, and steps out creased across the lap and down the front. Linen and raw cotton are the worst for it. Bring it on a hanger and change there, or at least sit up on the way.
• Dads, empty your pockets. Phone, keys, wallet, and in one memorable case a pocket knife and a tape measure. It bulks out every full length frame. Leave the clown car in the car.
• Smart watches off. A lit screen is a small bright rectangle in the middle of warm light, and if it's been on all summer there's a tan line under it. Night mode if it has to stay on.
• Shoes are in the shot. Boots, flats, sandals, clean simple sneakers. At the beach we're barefoot in the sand, so bring something easy to slip back on for the walk out.
• A toddler who'll be carried shouldn't be in a dress. It rides up the second she's on a hip and it never sits right. Rompers, overalls, a two piece set or soft pull-on trousers all photograph beautifully and none of them need rescuing every thirty seconds.
• Hair ties off wrists. They're in every frame where an arm shows, and arms show a lot.

Rust, sage, mustard, cream. Four people, one family of color, four completely different outfits.

The short version

1. Dress the hardest person first, then build out from them.
2. Texture over color, and give me one thing that moves.
3. Warm and earthy. Cream and oatmeal to hold it together.
4. No bright white, no heavy black, no neon.
5. At the beach, go deeper and warmer than feels natural.
6. Coordinate, don't match. One or two patterns, maximum.
7. Pockets empty, watches off, hanger in the car.

If you want to go deeper on any of this, the post on what actually goes into an hour long session covers how the light and the timing work, and this one walks through which session type suits which family.

And once you've booked, you get the full prep guide plus access to Style & Select, which builds you a set of coordinated looks with links to shop from. Most families use it and stop thinking about any of this entirely.

Let's get your family on the calendar.

Orange County family sessions, shot in the last hour of good light. Tell me a little about your crew and I'll take it from there.

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