About Stephanie Mae
To know me is to know that I’m passionate, high-energy, down-to-earth, a little quirky, nerdy, and a bit of a tomboy. Spending time outdoors recharges my batteries, Northern Ontario is home, strong coffee is a must and my boys & my dogs make my heart smile.
My favourite things are music & concerts, documentaries, snacks, reading, travelling and riding shotgun on the back of my husband's motorcycle.
I live for golden hour light, belly laughs, open roads, and fresh air on my face. Finding beauty in the simple, everyday stuff comes naturally to me. I’ve always been able to see the good, even when it's hard to spot.
I live for the moments where time slows just enough to really feel it all - the love, the laughs, the unexpected detours, the adventures and the little things that make you pause. That's what inspires me.
That’s the kind of magic I want to create with you — images that feel like you, in all your real and beautiful ways. The kind you’ll look back on years from now and feel it all over again.
How The passion started...
WHY IT MATTERS TO ME
I’ve always been a creative at heart, drawn to the arts and forever looking for ways to hold onto the good stuff. I have a love for anything vintage, nostalgic, and a little worn-in.
My love for documenting life began in childhood—those everyday snapshots, home videos on the old 90s camcorder, and my grandparents’ 1961 Super 8mm wedding film are still some of my most treasured memories.
WHY IT MATTERS TO ME
How The passion started...
Some of my favourite things
Love, Stephanie mae
Music & concerts
My boys & my dogs
Travel & the outdoors
Riding shotgun on my husband's motorcycle
Laughter & being goofy
Music & concerts
My boys & my dogs
Travel & the outdoors
Riding motorcycles
Laughter & being goofy
THE EXPERIENCE
There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names. There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names.There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names. There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names. There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names. There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through
What It's like To work with me
As your photographer, my biggest priority is making sure you feel seen and totally comfortable. All love is welcome here. All stories. All humans. And please bring your furry friends.
I’m high-energy by nature, but client's always say that working with me feels easy—like we’re just hanging out. I’ll gently guide you when needed, but I’m never going to overly pose you or force anything that doesn’t feel like you. I like to keep things natural, fun, and real.
THE EXPERIENCE
There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names. There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names.There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names. There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names. There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through wonder, to live before everything had names. There’s a strange kind of magic in old photographs — they capture not just moments, but feelings suspended in time. A faded Polaroid, a sun-washed print, they hold the echoes of laughter in backyards, the soft light of late afternoons, the wild freedom of childhood. In their grain and their blur, there's something more honest than perfection: the truth of a moment now gone. Looking at them is like holding hands with the past — not to change it, but to remember how it felt to be small, to see the world through
What It's like To work with me
I’m here for the real stuff: the quiet in-betweens, the wild, messy magic, and every beautifully imperfect moment that makes your story yours.
No stiff poses or forced smiles. I focus on gentle guidance to create honest images that look and feel like the real you. If this sounds like your vibe, then you're in the right place.
