From first inquiry to final gallery.

Build the page out of sections — a hero, a portfolio, an about, a contact form — and watch the real page change beside you as you type. Publish when it looks right.

One card per layout rather than per section type, so you pick what you can see. Switching a section from one arrangement to another keeps the words you already wrote.

Pick one and swap in your own photographs. The prices, client names and press mentions come to you empty on purpose — a template should never publish a claim under your name that is not yours.

Ten palettes, six typeface pairings and three overall Looks, each checked for contrast before it ships. Your studio’s own colors carry through the site, the galleries and the emails.

Point your domain at Honeyfell and the site answers on it — both the plain address and the www one, which is the form most of your old links already use.

A page with its own address that stays out of your menu — the front door for one offer, one season, or one set of mini sessions.

A contact form on your site is spam-screened and arrives as a booking at the inquiry stage, with your phone buzzing. It is a record from the first message, not an email you have to copy out of.

A title and description per page, a sitemap rebuilt on every publish, canonical tags, structured data about your business, and a robots file that lets Google in. Nobody can promise you a ranking — these are the technical signals a platform can actually keep.

Honeyfell reads every URL your current site has, you say where each one should land, and the old addresses answer with a real permanent redirect on your own domain. It refuses to launch a map with loops, chains or a redirect pointing at a page that does not exist yet, and re-checks every mapping daily after launch.

Draft or rewrite the copy on a section from the facts you type in, then edit it like anything else — nothing publishes itself. It will not write a testimonial, a price, a package inclusion or a press mention, because those are claims only you can make.

Draft a plain one-line description for each photograph on your site — the line Google reads and a blind visitor hears.

In the free Honeyfell iPhone app, the set writes straight into the camera roll — one permission, one tap, no share sheet and no new tab. In a phone browser the same button hands the whole set to the system share sheet, which saves sharing-size copies.

A desktop browser gets the gallery as a zip in the quality you allow, split into parts when it is large, instead of being steered towards a phone. Any single photograph saves at full resolution from any device.

Classic split, full bleed, framed, minimal, arch, cinematic, color wash, keepsake print, triptych, contact sheet and three more. A style that wants six photographs will fall back rather than show you the same face twice.

Send a handful the same night as a peek inside the gallery they will get later — the same link, not a second one to keep track of.

Group a wedding into getting ready, ceremony and reception, so a day reads as a day. Galleries you have already sent keep rendering exactly as your clients saw them, whatever happens to your plan.

Your colors and your studio name carry through the cover, the grid and the emails. Paid plans add eight curated palettes you can set per gallery when a session wants its own mood.

Clients heart the ones they love and name a set — the album, the ones for their parents — and you see it without a spreadsheet going back and forth.

Keep a gallery as a draft until you are ready, then share it as a link only they have or put a passphrase on it. Ordering can carry a second passphrase of its own.

A watchable version of the gallery, composed from the gallery itself rather than assembled by hand. It is silent on purpose — no licensed music, so nothing to clear and nothing to take down.

A plugin that writes the same three files the app does and uploads them direct from your export. Run on macOS and Windows with real sessions, not assumed to work. Client favorites pull back into a collection set.

Drag one folder of past sessions across — one subfolder per delivered gallery — and every gallery is named, dated, matched to a client and sized against your storage before anything uploads.

Export your galleries to your own disk whenever you like, gallery by gallery, resumable if you close the tab. It finishes by telling you exactly which photographs had no original left on file, rather than saying “done” over a gap.

Inquiry, booked, shot, delivered — every session on one board, with a dot per row for the agreement, the questions and the money so you can see what is missing without opening anything.

Their whole history in one place, pulled together from the bookings and galleries you already have rather than a separate address book you have to keep up. A family that books under two names and three spellings still reads as one household.

Bring four hundred clients across from a CSV instead of retyping them.

Twelve months of revenue, bookings and print sales in one place, so you can see what the year actually did.

Booking confirmations, invoice reminders, the campaign sends and the daily re-check on a migrated site. Each one is a specific thing Honeyfell does, under your studio’s name, with your address in the reply.

When a client replies to an email you sent from Honeyfell, the reply arrives in your inbox in the app instead of being lost in a personal mailbox.

A bell row, an email, and a push to your phone — per event, so a new inquiry can reach you differently from a print order.

The same studio in your pocket, free on the App Store. Everything works in any browser too; the app is what adds the direct camera-roll save and push notifications.

Your colors, your logo, your domain, your reply-to. Honeyfell stays out of the frame — your clients never need to learn we exist.

Ten walkthroughs that end on the real button, plus a checklist of the five things a new studio should set up. Ask-anything help chat is on the paid plans; the guides, the search and writing to an actual person are free on every plan.