As an aspiring photographer, I'm always stuck for people to photograph as they never like your photos of them. Not because you have done something wrong, but because they don't like themselves. There's no photo in the world that's going to change that, so I was not really expecting any reply when I set my Facebook status to "wants a model". But two days later I got a message through from a girl called Roisín. I'd never met her, but I'd seen some photos of her, she was a college friend of my cousin. She was unbelievably beautiful, a natural blonde with hair out of a shampoo ad! It curled loosely on its own and had a volume that just surrounded her face and made you look at her huge, bright blue eyes and her perfect smile. She also seemed more of a class act than most. Whilst she was clearly a girl who liked a good time, and was no stranger to alcohol, there were no photos of her in compromising positions, no photos of her flashing her knickers, no photos of her on the toilet, no photos of her snogging other girls, etc. etc.
I replied to her message as soon as I could, and over the course of three or four more messages we thrashed out an appointment for her to come and see me one Saturday. I pointed her in the direction of my online portfolio which contained my limited selection of portrait work. One wedding I'd done as a favour, some mediocre photos of an ex doing implied nude, and a paid model in a 'cocktail' dress who I'd shot as part of a camera club evening some years ago. She seemed to like the photos of the model and the bridal stuff so agreed that she would bring with her an evening gown she'd just worn to the college summer ball, a couple of her going out dresses, and a few other bits and pieces. She got confirmation from my cousin, that I was who I said I was, that I wasn't some psycho, and the date was set.
I set my 'studio' up in the dining room of my house, the room is large, well lit naturally from a skylight and a large patio door, and has a lovely polished tile floor and a marble table with some designer chairs in it. The dining room is at the back of the house, and the house itself backs onto a large garden and then onto some woodland. The back of the house and the garden are completely concealed from view as I live in the only house on a road of bungalows and we are pretty well in the sticks anyway! I fussed around for the part of the morning, made sure the camera was charged, all the spare batteries were charged or charging, calibrated the white balance on the camera, checked out some test exposures made sure the battery lights were charged, cleaned the reflectors, and umbrellas, made sure the remote trigger was working and then put the kettle on.
Roisín arrived about 5 minutes early, marking herself as a cut above most models who think the world revolves around, and can wait for, them. When I went out to meet her taxi I could see she was a bit nervous, she waved nervously, her smile was fixed and she was ungainly getting out of the car. She looked be to carrying 3 dresses in bags, a large clutch bag and a pull-along suitcase. She fumbled getting her purse out and I stepped in, asking the driver how much and passing him a note. I told him to keep the change. He acknowledged my generosity and left. I introduced myself and she fumbled some more offering me her hand to shake, dropping her clutch bag in the process. She retrieved the bag awkwardly and introduced herself as well, now looking embarrassed as well as nervous. I offered to take some of her baggage from her, she accepted silently, the fixed grin relaxing slightly. I took the dress bags from her and put them over my arm and indicated that she should follow me.
It struck me now she was in my company just how tiny she was. Most of the photos I'd seen of her had been with her girlfriends, very few with men, and she just looked a little bit shorter than them. Before meeting her I'd have probably said she was 5'6" and about 110 - 115lbs. In the flesh she was much more petite, maybe only 5' and perhaps 90-100lbs. She had nicely curved hips and looked to have about a 32c chest. Her curled blonde hair and huge eyes were even more appealing in person. She was wearing a white skinny fit tshirt with no logo, a light coloured, pleated, faux suede skirt that skimmed her knees and 2" cork wedge heeled sandals. She was wearing make up, but had very much gone for the 'less is more' approach; Just a little mascara and a subtle lipstick. She was going to photograph beautifully.
I led her inside and she looked around a lot, not in a panicked way, but just taking everything in. The house is not huge by any means, its a 1950's suburban, detached, 4 bedroom house. It's main features are an imposing hallway with an original, real oak floor and the big dining room I talked about before. I put the dresses down on a sideboard in the hall and walked through into the kitchen, the kettle had boiled and gone cold so I put it on again. I pulled one of the chairs away from the small kitchen table and offered it to her. She sat and we finally exchanged a few words as I made a coffee.
"Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?" I offered.
"Ohhh, tea pleease, white, one sugar" she replied, accenting the 'oh' and 'please' as though tea might just save her life!
I made the tea for her and she continued looking around, peering through the kitchen doors into the dining room where the lights were set up, into the living room with its two plain, but comfortable sofas and modest LCD TV, and back into the hall.
"Well" I said, "how does this measure up to what you were expecting"
"The house is lovely" she replied, "Simple but comfortable. Becky said you were doing pretty well for yourself"
Becky is my cousin, and its not the photographs that are buying me a house its licensing patents on half a dozen specialist electronic items for the film industry. With other people paying to use my designs it leaves me free to spend time and money on my hobbies; Photography and classic motorbikes.
"I don't know what Becky has told you about me" I said, "but let me just fill you in, from the horses mouth so to speak. I'm 30. I was married for a while, well, three years. You know how it goes, out of uni with a 2:1 in electronics, into an OK job at 21, married at 23. redundant from my job later that year, started my own company, designed some good stuff, licensed it out, marriage fell apart, divorced at 26 but with money enough to be comfortable."
"Becky told me your ex was a bitch..." Roisín interrupted
"I don't think that's quite fair", I said "She wasn't very nice to me, but I wasn't at home much then, she wanted more from me than I could give and instead of being straight with me she played games. We both ended up saying and doing things we regretted. We are kind of OK now, but we aren't ever going to be friends. Fortunately while we were divorcing I got the patents through on the stuff I'd designed and I started getting cheques in the post. I could pay her off without losing the house. I've been doing pretty much whatever I felt like ever since.
"Doing what you like sounds cool" Roisín mused.
"Trust me, it isn't all fun and games, I still have to do quite a lot of work and its work I'd rather not be doing, all the legal junk that goes along with letting other people use your stuff. Making sure they don't copy it and market it as theirs, making sure what they produce is up to spec, its all pretty boring." I tailed off. "Anyway, what about you? I don't know much about you at all, except what I can see here, you're 19, you go to college with my cousin and... what?" I invited her to continue.
"I'm 19, I go to college with your cousin" Roisín picked up "I'm studying drama, but I don't really want to be an actress, I'm more interested in costume and set but there isn't anywhere round here that does that stuff. So i'm doing a bit of all of it and I'll specialise later. I like going clubbing with my friends, I like to drink vodka in new and interesting ways, I'm single and I'm not really looking for anyone, not for anything serious at least, and I'm not a big fan of one night stands. Everyone thinks girls are the the needy ones, but boys are terrible, you let them get past second base and they think they own you... why can't they just keep it light and friendly..." she tailed off.
"I know what you mean" I responded. "when I was your age it wasn't such a problem, but now getting past 30, every girl my age can hear her biological clock ticking away and she wants to get married and start having babies... I can't stand babies... is that a bit harsh?"