How a Fashion School Disaster Led Me to Photography


I didn’t mean to become a photographer. My photo journey started with selling cameras online in a cramped Brooklyn office. Back then, I didn’t know the difference between an f-stop and a bus stop. I picked up a camera to learn the trade — and it turned out, the camera picked me.


Photography wasn’t love at first sight. It was more like that slow burn of a good vodka: you don’t realize it’s in your veins until it’s too late. My first photos were terrible. It all started with Lauren (my girlfriend at the time) who was knee-deep in fashion school and needed photos of 12 garments she’d poured her heart into designing. She had this silly idea: she’d wrangled five of her friends to model, booked the school’s photo studio, and then handed the task of “official photographer” to me.


Now, I’d just bought my first camera a few days earlier: a beat up Nikon D100. Even in 2012, it was basically an antique. But Lauren, ever the optimist, was convinced I had what it took.

There I was, gripping that camera, staring at lights, reflectors, and a room full of people who expected me to know what I was doing.


I had no freakin' clue.

Every camera I’d owned before this moment was simple. Point, shoot, done. This new SLR, though? It had more buttons, knobs, and cryptic symbols than I could ever figure out. It might as well have come with a manual in hieroglyphics.


When the shoot started, my incompetence became painfully obvious. The camera refused to focus. I’d press the shutter, and it would act like I’d asked it for money before finally clicking - or not clicking at all. The photos that did come out were a blurry unfocused mess. Every now and then I'd get a lucky shot, but it wasn't purposeful, it was accidental.

Woman in backless beige dress with gold choker necklace posing against neutral background.
Young Black woman in purple halter dress with updo hairstyle posing against bright background.
Young Black woman in floral sundress with braided hair posing sideways against beige background.
Young Black woman with long braided hair smiling softly in a white top against white background.
Black woman in purple hooded vest with dreadlocks and red pants posing against white background.
Woman with dark upswept hair in gray turtleneck gazing sideways against light background.
Smiling young woman in blue striped sailor dress with red bow posing against beige background.
Smiling Black woman with curly ponytail in backless gray dress posing against beige background.
Blurry motion photo of a smiling young woman with long brown hair wearing a sleeveless top.
Young woman with long curly brown hair smiling over her shoulder wearing a gray sleeveless top.
Smiling Black woman with curly auburn hair wearing a pink sleeveless top, photographed from behind.
Young woman with long curly brown hair smiling while holding her hair up with one hand.

It didn’t take long for Lauren to whip out her iPhone to take photos. A smart move, honestly. But I was still “the photographer,” and I wasn’t about to quit. So, I gritted my teeth and stumbled through a marathon two-and-a-half-hour shoot. By the end, I was sweaty, exhausted, and utterly defeated.


That shoot should’ve been the end of my photography adventure. Standing in that studio with my camera betraying me, blurry photos piling up, and Lauren’s iPhone outperforming my supposed “professional” gear. I should’ve thrown in the towel. But instead, something stirred within me. I walked away from that disaster not with shame, but with determination.


I couldn’t let that be my story. I didn’t want to feel that helpless, that clueless, ever again. I had no idea why I cared so much. I could have tossed the camera in a drawer, chalked it up to a failed experiment, and moved on. But I didn’t. Something about the challenge, the stubbornness of the camera, the art that I knew was buried somewhere in the chaos - kept me hooked.


So, I did what any sensible person would do: I doubled down. I started watching every YouTube video I could about photography, experimenting with settings, and taking the camera everywhere. I’d fail and fail again, but every so often, I’d get a shot that made me pause. A moment where I’d think, “Okay, maybe I can do this after all.”


That terrible first experience? It wasn’t a setback; it was a spark. I didn’t know it at the time, but those two and a half hours were the beginning of something bigger. It wasn’t about avoiding failure, it was about discovering something worth failing for.


That brings us now to this blog. It’s a chance for me to share the moments you don’t see. The wins, the fails, everything. The stories behind the faces you’ll find on my portfolio page. And maybe (just maybe) some of the stories behind the person holding the camera.


So welcome. Stay a while. I promise it’ll be messy, human, and full of heart.


-Marvin