I didn’t always know what kind of photography would make my heart skip a beat and feel like it belonged to something more than just me.
That all changed one afternoon in Saigon. I was walking past the Opera House when I noticed a scene that stopped me in my tracks. Right there on the sidewalk, two women laughed as they posed on a vintage scooter. They wore áo dài in radiant floral prints, each fold of fabric catching the sunlight. Around them, a small creative team moved with quiet focus. There were soft directions, bursts of laughter, the rustle of fabric. It was vibrant, unforced, alive.
There was something deeply human in that moment. The chemistry between the models, the way the city melted into the background and became part of the frame. It wasn’t just about fashion. It was about emotion and connection. I paused to take it in.
One of the photographers caught my eye and smiled. Then, in the most unexpected and generous way, he asked if I wanted to jump in and take a few shots. I hadn’t planned on shooting that day, but my camera was already around my neck, as it always is when I travel. I looked at him, then at the scene, and simply said ‘vâng, cảm ơn!’
In that moment, I felt a spark I hadn’t known I was searching for. It was a quiet invitation into a world where creativity, storytelling, and collaboration lived side by side. That invitation stayed with me.
Returning With a Camera and a Vision
A year later, I returned to that same corner in front of the Opera House. But this time, I wasn’t an observer. I was the one leading the photoshoot. We started where it all began. The morning light was soft and golden, just as I remembered.
From the Opera House, our model Trương Trinh and I moved with the city’s rhythm toward Bến Thành Market. The farther we walked, the more the backdrop came to life. Lanterns floated above narrow alleys like suspended gems. Faded walls and layered textures created a visual rhythm that felt entirely spontaneous.
The photoshoot became a quiet conversation with the streets, with memory, and with the moment unfolding around us. It reminded me that some of the most honest images are found in places that don’t try to impress, only to be seen.
What That Day Taught Me
What I learned that day in Saigon reshaped how I see photography and what it means to truly document something meaningful. It wasn’t just about style or aesthetics. It became about honoring culture, preserving identity, and being present enough to catch a moment as it naturally unfolds. The áo dài is more than a traditional garment. It holds generations of memory and pride. Photographing it in the middle of everyday life brought a kind of intimacy and honesty that no studio backdrop could ever offer.
That first invitation to take a few photos opened a door I didn’t know was there. It taught me that photography is not just about what we see through the lens. It’s about who we see, what we feel, and what we give back.
Often, when I pick up my camera, I think about that day. I still chase that same feeling. I still believe in the magic of saying yes. And I still find inspiration in moments that catch us by surprise.
From Saigon to Melbourne
Not long after that shoot, I moved to Melbourne, Australia. That spark I felt in Saigon didn’t fade. It grew. In Melbourne, I photographed over 100 artists, models, and creatives from all walks of life. Each photoshoot was shaped by what I learned that day in Vietnam. Together, they became The Melbourne Portraits Project, a photo book celebrating resilience, individuality, and the power of being seen.
It all started with a scooter, a smile, and an open invitation to take the shot.
© Paul Tocatlian. All Rights Reserved.
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