Julianna wore the Rue de Seine’s “Valentine,” Ferragamo slingbacks and heirloom pearls. eric answered with State and Liberty, Hermès cufflinks and a Marchlab watch.


As vows echoed beneath centuries-old stone, the air carried lavender, limestone, and the hush of a thousand camera clicks from @join_jules’ devoted world.


she then slipped into a rare Sarah Seven “Taylor” with delicate gloves—pure editorial—before the courtyard turned into a runway of light.


Amandine of Citron Pavot translated Julianna’s farming heritage into a Provençal feast: truffle pasta, seasonal treasures, and French classics reimagined.


At the bar, cocktails became theater: a Sidecar homage, a Fig Spritz, a playful Tomatini, and an Espresso Martini with tequila sluiced through an ice luge.

Service glided—perfect pacing, warm smiles, and music that rose and softened exactly on cue.

Guests wandered terraces and boxwood allée, enveloped in scenes that felt filmed, not staged—every vignette intentional, never forced.
More than a wedding, it was a curated universe—fashion-first, joyfully authentic, and unmistakably Provence.