About Me - Stéphanie Hills

I've spent much of my life working with words.

As a literary translator, I've worked on poetry, children's books, documentary films, artists' voices, and the memories of people whose experiences deserve to be heard and remembered. I've worked between English, French, German, Spanish and other languages, often moving between cultures as well as words.

I’ve always been fascinated by language itself—its structures, its variations across cultures, its rhythms and grammars—and by what language does: how it shapes what we think, what we feel, and how we understand the world.

Its ability to carry meaning from one person to another. To help people understand something more clearly. To preserve a memory, illuminate an experience, or express something that might feel difficult to put into words.

That interest eventually led me to celebrancy.

Not because I am particularly interested in wedding conventions, but because I am fascinated by the moments in life that invite us to stop, gather together, and pay attention.

A wedding is one of those moments.

For a short time, people step out of their ordinary routines and come together around something that matters. Not only the relationship at the centre of the ceremony, but also the friendships, families, histories and connections that surround it.

My role is to listen carefully and then find words that feel true to the people they are about.

I am not interested in standard scripts or formulaic ceremonies. I am interested in tone, meaning, and recognition. In creating ceremonies where people can hear themselves reflected honestly, and where guests feel drawn into something real.

In my multilingual ceremonies, languages themselves shape the rhythm and tone of the ceremony. This is one of the aspects of celebrancy I enjoy most. Each language carries its own nuances, references and emotional textures, and I love exploring the spaces where they meet.

When a ceremony goes well, people often tell me that they felt seen, understood, or moved.

While that is absolutely my goal, what I secretly hope for is something slightly different.

I hope for those rare moments when a room becomes completely present. When people stop thinking about what comes next and become absorbed in what is happening right now. When words, memories and relationships come together in a way that feels unexpectedly meaningful.

Those moments are rare.

Which is precisely why they matter.