I sculpt.
I don't decorate.
I am Ange Gimenez, a wedding cake designer in Paris. Every piece begins as a charcoal sketch and becomes an architectural sculpture in sugar paste, shaped by hand for one couple and one room.
Every piece begins
as a charcoal sketch.
Never a template.
Every petal, every curve, every tier is shaped by hand from raw sugar paste. It is the only medium that gives me both structural ambition and delicacy in the same piece.
Sugar paste holds its form in summer heat, at outdoor venues, through the long hours of a destination wedding. It is the reason I can sculpt slender, elongated silhouettes that stand without compromise, with the discretion of hand-shaped detail rather than applied decoration.
Where it all began.
For nine years in London, I taught myself. Cakes for friends, for family, for every celebration I could find. No formal training. No studio. Just deep curiosity, and an obsession with getting every detail right. That kitchen was where it all started.
I tried everything. Buttercream, royal icing, fondant figurines, novelty shapes. Most of it I quietly abandoned. What stayed with me was the discipline of clean lines, of restraint, of a single hand-shaped detail saying more than ten busy ones. These were my early years. No grand inspiration yet, no formal references. I was simply discovering the craft, baking wedding cakes and celebration cakes from my kitchen, learning what I loved as I went.
The first wedding cake I made was for a close friend. Three tiers, hand piped, sculpted late into the night in a small flat. When I saw it standing on the table the next morning, I knew. This was not a hobby anymore. This was the work I wanted to spend my life on.
The foundations.
I earned my CAP Pâtisserie in the south of France. The training was demanding, technical, deeply traditional. Tempering, lamination, ganache, génoise, the rigour of weight and temperature, the language of a craft that has been refined in France for centuries. I learned to read a recipe like a piece of architecture, to feel a paste change under my fingers, to understand why each gram matters and why patience is part of the technique.
It is also where I made the choice that defines my work today. Sugar paste, exclusively. The south of France gave me the technical vocabulary of French pastry, and the confidence to commit to one medium, one direction, one signature.
Where everything
came together.
Paris is where I built my own practice, creating bespoke pieces for weddings. Each commission takes weeks. It demands precision, and a close understanding of the couple it is for. This is where I belong.
I chose Paris over London for one reason. Paris is the only city where haute couture and haute pâtisserie share the same language. The same obsession with hand work, with proportion, with refusing the easy version. My clients are couples who fly in from New York, San Francisco, Singapore, who choose a French château or a villa in Provence, and who want a cake that belongs to that level of intention.
Each piece begins with a long conversation, then charcoal sketches, then weeks of sculpting by hand. I work alone. I deliver and install every cake myself. Nothing leaves my hands without being shaped to a timeless silhouette.
Why sugar paste,
exclusively.
I am often asked why I refuse buttercream, ganache finishes, fondant shortcuts, anything beyond the one medium I have committed to. The answer is simple. Sugar paste is the only material that gives me both architectural ambition and floral delicacy in the same piece. Nothing else holds a sculpted petal at one millimetre of thickness while also carrying a four-tier silhouette without compromise.
It is also the only medium that survives the realities of a destination wedding. A château terrace in July. An Italian lakeside in August. A Provence garden at thirty degrees. Buttercream collapses, ganache sweats, cream finishes lose their geometry within an hour. Sugar paste holds its line from the moment I install it to the moment it is cut, regardless of heat, humidity, transport, or the long hours between ceremony and dessert.
Working in a single medium is not a limitation. It is a discipline. After years of sculpting only sugar paste, I know how it behaves under my fingers, how it accepts a curve, how thin I can pull a petal before it fractures, how to layer translucent over opaque to give a flower the depth of a real bloom. That familiarity is only possible when you stop spreading yourself across techniques.
Sugar paste, for me, is not a practical choice. It is an artistic one. Every piece I make is the answer to one question. What can I sculpt today that I could not have sculpted last year.
What makes every piece
unmistakably mine.
Sugar Paste Exclusive
My exclusive medium. Holds in summer heat, outdoors, and at destination venues where cream cannot survive. The only material that gives me sculptural lines and edible delicacy in the same piece.
Hand-Sculpted Flowers
Each petal is shaped one at a time, in sugar paste or, for the lightest blooms, wafer paper. Hours of work for a single flower. No moulds, no shortcuts, no two flowers identical.
Architectural Height
Eight tiers is my tallest piece to date. Every internal structure is calculated tier by tier, so the silhouette stands straight from the first photograph to the last slice.
I work alone, by choice.
No team, no subcontracted flowers, no courier. The sketch, the sculpting, the drive to your venue and the last adjustment on the table are all mine. Around thirty commissions a year is what one pair of hands can do well. The photographers, venues and publications behind this work are credited on my partners page.
See how a commission unfoldsTell me about
your day.
I take around thirty commissions a year, so each piece has my full attention. If you are planning a wedding in Paris or anywhere in the world, I would love to hear from you.