Loading...
Loading...

A Spanish villa micro wedding just outside Los Angeles is what Madie and Danny had — twenty-five people at a private tile-roofed estate in Agoura Hills in October 2023, with a pool, a vineyard, and a wide grass yard set under old trees. Madie flew in from Ohio, Danny's family was close by, and the day gathered everyone who mattered onto one lawn.
The morning ran quiet and split between the houses. There was no first look — they saved seeing each other for the aisle, out on the grass under a fruit tree, with a cello and guitar playing and Danny's sister waiting to marry them. The program set the tone, a little hand-drawn mushroom at the top and a handfasting written into the order of service.
Madie got ready inside the villa, in rooms with carved-wood doors, Moroccan tilework, and a crystal chandelier overhead. She stood in a carved-wood doorway in her gown, a capiz-shell chandelier catching the light behind her, a Moroccan lantern sconce on the wall — the dress fitted lace with long sheer-lace sleeves and an illustrated, low back, her hair half-up in soft curls with a floral wreath tucked in. Her mother, in a deep green beaded gown with her own hair swept up, pinned the veil in for her, the two of them working it out together in front of the mirror.
Danny dressed in the pool house in a bright tropical-print short-sleeve shirt over black trousers, laughing his way through it in a sunlit boho room with a rattan hanging chair and potted plants in every corner. The couple had made pieces of the day by hand: Madie and her mom sewed the flower crowns and put together little baskets for the three flower girls — Danny's young nieces, Juniper, Olive, and Willow — and her mom brought a cake topper she had made herself.
Book a free 30-minute call and tell us the day you’re imagining. We’ve probably planned one like it, and we’d love to help plan yours.
The ceremony was out on the lawn under a fruit tree heavy with pears, fruitwood chairs set in short rows with the parents in front and the white villa rising behind. A cello-and-guitar duo played from the shade while the guests found their seats. The processional came down the villa's Spanish-tile steps and across the grass: the family first, then the three flower girls in floral-print dresses and green crowns, one of them scattering petals from a little wildflower basket. Madie came last on her father's arm, her cathedral veil trailing over the tile, carrying a loose, bright bouquet of hot-pink, orange, purple, and yellow wildflowers.
Danny waited in a charcoal suit with a wildflower boutonniere pinned to match. His sister, Katie, stood as their officiant — she had gotten ordained to do it — and led them through the vows, the ring exchange, and the handfasting, their hands bound together as she spoke. It was a small, warm crowd on a golden California evening, close enough that everyone heard every word.
“Twenty-five people on the grass, a cello and guitar in the shade, and the groom's sister reading the vows.”
Family photos happened right after at the house, arranged so Danny's dad could stay seated while everyone gathered in close around him. Then Madie and Danny slipped away to a quiet corner of the grounds for portraits, a stretch of the evening that was theirs alone.
The estate gave them plenty to work with. The villa's white stucco walls, turquoise-trimmed windows, and red tile roof are the look Los Angeles has carried since its Spanish-mission days, and here it came with a pool, a vineyard, and a grapevine-covered pergola. That is where a grazing board and the family's own wine were set out for a cocktail hour between the ceremony and dinner.
Dinner was one long table set in a T-shape with the couple in the middle, farm tables and white linens out in the yard, name cards stamped with little pictures so guests could find their seat. A private chef cooked out of the villa kitchen and sent out a plated dinner — branzino, chicken marsala, spaghetti for the kids — with wine and a champagne toast poured at the table.
The couple were announced in and went straight into their first dance. There was a mother-son dance and a father-daughter dance to Heartland's "I Loved Her First," and a thank-you toast before the floor opened to anyone who wanted to speak. They cut a two-tier cake from Portos Bakery — chocolate on top, strawberry below — under the topper Madie's mom had made, and served it with ice cream, saving the top layer for their first anniversary. The kids swung at a piñata, and everyone pressed a handprint onto a shared sheet that stood in for a guest book before the night wound down.