Somewhere around the fortieth step, Sophie’s bridesmaid, walking two steps behind her with the train gathered in both arms, asked how many more there were. I didn’t have an exact count and told her honestly that Positano doesn’t publish a number for any given staircase, you just keep climbing or descending until it stops. Somewhere close to seventy or eighty steps by my own rough estimate, though nobody was counting carefully at the time. What I do know from years of doing this specific walk with brides in mermaid gowns is that it’s longer than it looks from the top, and that no amount of describing it in advance fully prepares a bride for what carrying a train down real stone steps actually feels like.
What a Mermaid Gown Does on Stone Steps
Sophie’s dress was a fitted lace mermaid silhouette with a train that extended a couple of feet beyond her heels, the kind of dress that photographs beautifully standing still and becomes a genuine physical project the moment it needs to move down a staircase. The fitted skirt through the knees means short, controlled steps rather than a natural stride, and the train needs a dedicated person managing it, lifting it clear of the stone at each step, gathering it at landings, releasing it again for the photograph.
The Shoes That Actually Mattered
Sophie wore a low block heel for the walk itself, switching into taller heels only once we reached level ground near the marina, a decision made ahead of time rather than improvised on the day. A stiletto heel on the worn, slightly rounded stone of these steps is genuinely risky, not a fashion inconvenience but an actual fall hazard, since centuries of foot traffic have polished the surface of many steps into something closer to smooth marble than textured stone. Every bride I work with on this coast gets the same advice: bring the heels you want for the ceremony and the portraits on flat ground, but plan a separate, more stable shoe for any stretch of stepped street, and change between the two rather than trying to make one pair do both jobs.
The Logistics Nobody Mentions in Advance
The walk started at Hotel Marincanto, where Sophie had gotten ready that morning, and continued down through the town toward the marina. Sophie’s sister handled the train for most of the descent, switching arms every few minutes as one side tired, and it is, without exaggeration, a two-handed, sustained physical task rather than an occasional adjustment. Positano’s stepped streets are uneven, worn smooth in places by centuries of foot traffic and rougher in others, and a train dragging across that surface picks up dust, occasionally catches on a raised edge, and needs constant attention to stay presentable by the time it reaches the bottom. I recommend every bride in a train gown assign this job to a specific person in advance, not an ad hoc volunteer, because it requires sustained attention for the entire walk, not occasional help.
Photographing Movement That Isn’t Graceful By Default
The instinct is to photograph a bride walking down stairs as an effortless, flowing moment, and sometimes it is. More often, the actual walk involves careful, deliberate footing, a hand on the railing, a pause to let the train catch up. I shot this descent in bursts rather than single frames, letting Sophie find her own rhythm on the steps rather than directing a specific pace, and edited toward the moments where the concentration in her expression, watching her footing, briefly gave way to an unguarded smile, usually when she caught sight of the water below through a gap between buildings.
Locals Passing By, Unbothered
Partway through the descent, an older woman came up the same staircase carrying two bags of groceries, squeezed past our small group with a brief, practiced nod, and continued on without breaking stride. This kind of encounter happens on nearly every walking session in Positano’s residential stepped streets, and it’s worth setting expectations about in advance: this is not a closed set. Real people live along these staircases and use them for entirely ordinary purposes while a wedding photograph happens to be taking place nearby. I’ve never had a resident express any real frustration about it, this is simply part of daily life in a town built almost entirely on stairs, but couples who expect total privacy on a public staircase should know that isn’t the reality here, and the interruptions, when they happen, are brief and unremarkable rather than disruptive. If anything, they add a texture of authenticity that shapes what a wedding in Positano actually feels like, something a fully closed, privately rented set of stairs elsewhere on the coast wouldn’t offer.
Through the Gate, Between the Walls
Partway down, the stepped alley passes through an iron gate set into a whitewashed wall, climbing plants spilling over the archway on both sides, a narrower staircase continuing upward behind it lined with potted geraniums and bougainvillea. Sophie paused here on her own, without my asking, and looked back over her shoulder toward me, the train pooling on the step below her. This wasn’t a directed pose. She simply stopped to check that everyone was still following, and the moment happened to be one of the strongest images from the entire walk, precisely because it wasn’t staged, and precisely because I had my camera ready rather than lowered between planned shots.
Why This Specific Spot Works
The gate creates a natural frame, dark iron against white plaster, with the greenery softening the hard architectural lines on either side. Positioned below Sophie on the staircase, I could include both the gate and the continuing stairs behind her, giving the image a sense of the walk still in progress rather than a destination already reached, the kind of composition that only works if you know to look for it in advance rather than discovering it in the moment. Spots like this exist throughout Positano’s network of stepped alleys, and part of what a local photographer brings to a session like this is knowing which specific gates, archways, and landings are worth pausing at deliberately, rather than treating the entire walk as transitional time between two real locations.
The Marina and the Boat
By the time Sophie and Alex reached the marina for the boat portion of their elopement, the physical effort of the walk had given way to something looser and more relaxed. Alex had already shed his jacket earlier in the day and stood at the pier in shirtsleeves and suspenders, and once the two of them settled onto the bow cushions of a waiting boat, the entire physical register of the shoot changed. No more careful footing, no more managing a train across uneven stone. Sophie could simply sit, the fabric pooling naturally around her rather than needing active management, and the two of them fell into an easy, unhurried closeness that the stairs hadn’t allowed for.

Why the Contrast Matters
I photograph this transition deliberately as a contrast, not just a change of scenery. The images from the walk carry a certain tension, focus, effort, the specific concentration of managing a physical challenge. The images from the boat carry the opposite: ease, stillness, the golden late-afternoon light with Positano receding gently behind them. Placed side by side in the finished gallery, the two sets of images tell a more complete story than either would alone: the work of getting to the water, and the reward of actually being on it.
The Train, Finally at Rest
On the boat, Sophie’s train did something it couldn’t do on the stairs: it simply fell where gravity put it, spreading across the white cushion of the bow in loose folds that no stylist arranged. I photographed it exactly as it settled rather than fussing with it into a more deliberate shape, because the natural pooling of the fabric against the boat’s clean lines already read as considered without any intervention. This is one of the specific advantages of a boat session that a land-based portrait can’t replicate: there’s no ground to drag against, no dust to collect, just fabric and cushion and the movement of the water beneath everything. Sophie noticed the difference herself, remarking at one point that it was the first time all day she hadn’t been actively thinking about where her dress was.
What the Captain Actually Does During a Session Like This
A detail that rarely makes it into the finished gallery but matters enormously to how the session actually runs: the boat’s captain kept the vessel drifting at a slow, controlled pace rather than fully anchored, angling the bow gently to keep Positano positioned in the background as the light shifted. This isn’t incidental. A skilled local captain reads the photographer’s positioning and adjusts the boat’s angle in small increments throughout the session, effectively becoming a second set of hands on the composition without either of us needing to say much out loud. Working with a captain who has done this specific kind of session before, rather than a generic charter operator, makes a measurable difference in how much usable material comes out of a limited window of good light.
Checking the Mirror, Not the Camera
At one point during a break in the shoot, Sophie held up a small hand mirror to check her own hair and makeup, unprompted, in a moment I photographed rather than interrupted. It’s a small, human beat, someone checking on herself rather than performing for an audience, and it belongs in the gallery precisely because it isn’t a directed detail shot. Brides spend a full day being looked at by everyone around them. A moment of looking at herself, on her own terms, is worth preserving alongside everything else.
The Hairstyle That Survived the Walk
Sophie’s hair was gathered into a low, textured updo with a single floral hairpin, a style chosen partly because it needed to survive both the physical exertion of the walk and the sea breeze on the boat afterward. A more elaborate style with loose, face-framing pieces would have needed constant adjustment after the descent through the stairs, strands pulled loose by exertion or by the wind picking up near the water. The gathered style held its shape through both environments without intervention, which is worth considering for any bride planning a day that moves between very different physical conditions in the same afternoon.
What This Means for Planning Your Own Walk
If your dress has a train and your day involves any real distance on foot through Positano’s stepped streets, plan for it specifically rather than assuming it will sort itself out. Assign someone the sole job of managing the train, choose shoes that give you real stability on uneven stone rather than pure height, and build extra time into the timeline for a walk that will take longer than it would on flat ground. If a boat session is part of your day, know that it offers a genuine physical reset after any walking, which is worth factoring into how you sequence the afternoon.
How Much Extra Time to Actually Budget
Most couples underestimate, sometimes significantly, how long a walk like this takes once a full gown and a managed train enter the equation. What might be a five-minute descent for someone in ordinary clothes can run fifteen to twenty minutes with a bride, a train handler, a photographer working the route, and periodic pauses at spots worth photographing along the way. I tell every couple planning something similar to double whatever time estimate feels reasonable, and to build that buffer into the timeline explicitly rather than hoping it works out, the kind of scheduling a good Positano wedding planner will already be factoring in. A rushed walk produces tense photographs and a stressed bride. An unhurried one produces the kind of images Sophie and Alex ended up with, the ones that still look relaxed years later.
Choosing the Route in Advance
Not every stepped street in Positano is worth walking in a wedding gown, and part of planning this kind of session well is scouting the specific route beforehand rather than picking a path on the day itself, checking it at roughly the same time of day the actual walk will happen so the light is genuinely representative. Some staircases are narrower, busier with tourist foot traffic, or simply less visually interesting than others. I walk the intended route with couples in advance whenever possible, or at minimum discuss it in detail beforehand, so that the walk from getting-ready location to marina or ceremony space is chosen deliberately rather than being whatever path happens to be shortest on a map. It’s the kind of groundwork any Positano wedding photographer worth hiring should be doing before the day even starts.
For the fuller picture of what a Positano elopement can involve beyond a single walk and a single boat, our elopement guide is the place to start.
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EMILIANO RUSSO































































































