The note I email a family so they show up ready — not the Sunday I lost to tabs.
Fall family photo outfits in the Abel palette — warm terracotta, deep forest green, and charcoal — make outdoor autumn sessions feel moody, grounded, and genuinely timeless.
You know that text. The card order deadline is already sitting in the thread, Mom is asking what they should wear, Dad already clicked something festive, and Grandma is going to look at this 5x7 on the fridge until February.
Tell them quiet clothes in three or four colors that still look like them after they print — cream, terracotta, forest, charcoal — and email the outfits two or three weeks out so they can text you a try-on photo before they order the cards. That's what I tell clients about what to wear for holiday card photos. Women and girls get dresses, patterns stay small enough to survive a wallet-size crop, and nothing only works because it's December.
A holiday card outfit note is the email I send so a family doesn't shop festive on their own. I pick the clothes, drop them on one shoppable link, and they text me a try-on photo before they hit order — that's the whole note.
I used to scramble the same week they were supposed to order the cards, hunting a sweater that felt holiday and hoping it wouldn't look tired by Super Bowl Sunday, and that's usually when the costume piece showed up on a card I couldn't reprint. A gallery can hide a loud plaid in a crop. A card cannot, which is why this job is different from a field mini even when the same family is standing in front of you.
A fall mini is fifteen minutes in a field and a parking-lot goodbye. A holiday card has to print and live on a fridge until February — so if you already email field minis with what to tell clients to wear for fall minis, don't reuse that note here; this one is for the card order deadline.
They're not walking a field for fifteen minutes and going home. They're picking a frame that gets printed, stuffed in envelopes, and stuck on somebody's fridge until they take it down in February, and that is a different clock than a mini weekend. You've got a card order deadline, not a parking lot, and if the size is wrong on Thursday they cannot fix it Saturday morning — which is why I want the try-on photo before they hit order, not the night they order the cards.
Print is pickier than a screen. A big plaid turns to mush, neon goes dirty, and a costume sweater that felt cute in the studio looks tired by February. Once it's on the fridge you don't get a do-over. I keep patterns small — tiny flowers on a cream floral maxi, tiny dots on a baby dress, a brown gingham with cream lace, a check you can still read after it shrinks — and I do not hand them a loud holiday plaid and hope the crop is kind.
I also don't dress them like a Christmas pageant. Matching red-and-green uniforms age in a week, character sweaters age faster, and if it only works because it's December it will not work on the fridge in March. Texture holds — a knit, a little cord, soft cotton, matte not shiny — and that's what I ask for, because that's what still looks like them after it prints.
I pick three or four colors that sit next to each other — cream, terracotta or rust, forest, charcoal — and that is the whole card. Abel is just the proof under the tiles, those four plus camel so the brown gingham has a home.
Cream is the quiet dress, not a second loud color, terracotta is the warm one, and forest keeps the card from going all pumpkin. Charcoal holds everybody together so the print doesn't blow out, and camel can live in a small check. I do not add a fifth story because somebody already has a lot of cranberry in the closet.
This is the note I reuse. Swap the names, the session date, the try-on date, and the link, then email it two or three weeks out — cards need that extra week because sizes have to arrive before they order the cards. If they booked late, I email this same note the day they grab the slot. I don't wait for a prettier window.
Copy this to the family
Hey [family] — can't wait to shoot y'all for the holiday card on [date].
I'm picking outfits so the print still looks like you on the fridge. Quiet colors, quiet patterns. Mom, the cream floral maxi with the tiny flowers and long sleeves. Terracotta tiered midi if she wants the warm one. Forest flutter-sleeve if she'd rather go deeper. Dad, the forest knit with the collar and charcoal chinos — black crew if he'd rather a plain sweater. For [girl], the charcoal smocked dress. Forest ribbed ruffle if she wants long sleeves, brown gingham with the cream lace if she wants a quiet check. [Boy] gets a forest pocket tee and charcoal joggers — forest v-neck if he'd rather a knit. Baby gets the charcoal dotted skater, or the soft sage gauze if you want a second look.
Please text me a try-on photo by [try-on date] — that's before you hit order, so we can swap a size if we need to.
If a size is off, reply and I'll swap that person. Leave the matching red-and-green sets, character sweaters, giant logos, and bright white at home, yeah?
Shop it all here: [link]
Names, dates, and the link are the only swap, and late bookers still get this same note. I don't write a new color story because they found me eight days out.
Build the card guide
Assign the people, drop these looks on one shoppable link, and email it before they shop for the card.
Try Shutterstyle free →I tell them the clothes. I don't ask what they're feeling this year, because that is how you end up with eight opinions and a sweater that only works in December. Women and girls get dresses, with texture over costume — knits, a little check, soft cotton — and nothing that only works because it has a reindeer on it.
Mom gets dresses. The cream floral maxi if I want the print-safe one, with tiny flowers, a square neck, long sleeves, and pockets. Terracotta tiered midi if she wants the warm one, solid and smocked. Forest flutter-sleeve if she'd rather go deeper, with a little embroidery at the bodice. Three dresses, and not the same dress in two lengths.
Dad is the easy yes — a forest knit with the collar and a little cream at the cuff, charcoal chinos under it, or a black crew if a collar feels like too much. He looks like himself, and the card doesn't have to explain his shirt.
The girl does not wear Mom's dress smaller. She gets charcoal smocked poplin if I want a simple dark dress, with flutter straps and short sleeves, a forest ribbed ruffle if she wants long sleeves and a different shape, or brown gingham with cream lace if I want a quiet pattern that still reads after it prints. Three looks, and not twins.
Boy gets a forest pocket tee and charcoal joggers so he can sit on the floor if he needs to, and a forest v-neck if a sweater goes down easier. He will not hold still for the card, so I dress him like that's true, yeah?
Baby stays soft in a charcoal dotted skater if I want her in the dark quiet pattern, or the soft sage gauze with the little buttons if I want a second look she can actually live in — hip, blanket, and you're done.
Women and girls get dresses. That's what I ask for on a card, because you're not talking someone into a logo tee while they're already picking envelopes.
I say this in the same email. I don't wait until they show me the bag, because by then the matching red-and-green set is already on the way. The whole family in the same candy-cane story is a choir, and it dates the card before they even mail it. Character sweaters and light-up anything and a giant logo across the chest do the same thing — they only work because it's December. Bright white blows out in the print, so cream is the soft one, not a blown-out shirt.
Loud plaid and neon feel festive in the cart and look like a costume by February. They can swap a silhouette, and they cannot add a fifth color the week they order the cards.
Somebody already bought neon, so I don't rewrite the colors. I put a charcoal layer over it, or move that person into charcoal and let the loud piece recede, then remember it for next year, yeah? The email goes out before they shop.
A size dies mid-week — it happens. They reply, you swap that person, and you do not reopen terracotta because the midi ran small. The try-on photo is how you catch this before they hit order.
Grandma wants everybody matching. I get it. She wants the card to look like a card, and she's the one who keeps it on the fridge till February. I stay in the same three or four colors and I let silhouettes be different. I don't put twelve people in the same red. If two households have to share one card, that's a different note — the Sutton Family of Seven lookbook — and I don't make this the cousin article.
You already picked the colors, so you don't start over because somebody shopped early.
No. A Christmas session can be a tree, a living room, a little sparkle. A card has to print and sit on a fridge till February, so Christmas card photo outfits still need quiet patterns and colors that don't muddy. I don't dress a card like a party.
Three or four — cream, terracotta, forest, charcoal. That's enough for holiday family photo outfits to look like one family, and a fifth color is how the print gets busy.
Two or three weeks out, because cards need the extra week so sizes arrive and they can text you a try-on photo before they hit order. If they booked late, email the same note the day they take the slot.
One household gets one guide, and it's this note. Two households sharing a card is a different job — still one shoppable link, just more people — and I don't turn this into that article.
Yes. Women and girls get dresses in the notes I email for a card. Boys get a knit or a tee and pants they can move in. Dresses photograph clean, and they keep the print from looking like a team kit.
Don't fight it in the thread the night they order the cards. Cover the loudest piece with charcoal, or move that person into charcoal and keep the rest of the family in the colors you already picked. Next year, email before they shop.
Planning your own family photos?
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Build a guide in 5 minutes →I pick the quiet colors — a cream floral maxi for Mom, a forest knit for Dad, a charcoal smocked dress for the girl — and I drop them on one link and email it two or three weeks out, with a try-on date before they hit order. Shutterstyle is how I do that now, so I'm not hunting a festive sweater the week they order the cards.
If you want a hand, copy the Abel family guide, assign the people, and email one shoppable link. If you want the longer version of what a client style guide is, it's that same idea — one link, not a folder of screenshots.
If you landed here as a client, send this to your photographer so they can pick the clothes and you can shop one link before they order the cards.
That's the whole thing for me now — pick the quiet clothes, email the link, and get the try-on photo before they order the cards.
Forest and terracotta already sit in that lane, so I don't open a magenta story because they said jewel. Same four colors, same note.
Yes — that person, not the whole card. They reply, you swap the tile, they text another try-on photo. You do not rebuild the colors because one midi sold out.
