The Pervert Photographer Rears His Ugly Head

I have to admit that after hearing countless horror stories from other models about lecherous photographers asking them to shoot in compromising positions (such as using the loo and other such nasty nonesense) I got away from it all pretty much unscathed. I did have one incidence while in Milan this particular season that left me feeling like I needed to take a really long scaldingly hot shower complete with a Lysol scrub down.

Patty at the agency called me to tell me that a very well-known Milanese photographer had seen my comp card and wanted to shoot me for an art exhibit that was being held in his honor. This photographer had shot Iman, Naomi Campbell, Linda, Christy, et. al. So to say that I felt honored to be chosen by him for this project is an understatement. Patty was excited too since I was the only girl at the agency that he'd picked and, well, it was just shits and giggles all around.

The day of the shoot I met with the photographer (who from here on out I will simply call "P" as his name started with that letter & I'll give him the courtesy of allowing him his anonymity) at his studio and he showed me his book which was, indeed, full of every supermodel that ever graced the fashion world. After his ego session he described the concept of the shoot we'd be doing and showed me the wardrobe, which was practically non-existant. Then he tells me that he will be doing my hair and make-up as well at which point I am feeling a little apprehensive since I am going to be wearing just enough to cover my naughty bits....although it was couture and obviously very expensive naughty bit coverage. Because of this P insists that he has to dress me. And I don't mean that in a styling kind of way. He insisted that he had to literally put the clothes on me....after shining up my entire body with oil..."so zat yew weel glowing like goddess". WTF? Hells no, my friends.

P must have noticed the look on my face and as if to make me feel better told me that he only liked boys. Bullshit. The man was leering as he was telling me his plans for the shoot. If he liked boys then I definitely must have developed a prostate overnight. Being in the presence of one so high and mighty in the Industry I was having a major dilemma. I didn't want to offend him and burn any bridges, but I also did not want to let down my guard and do something totally against my nature. I finally consented to letting him dress me but I insisted on leaving on my undergarments which I then removed myself from under the clothes (like I posted before, this is a skill you quickly acquire when you start modeling and have to change in the middle of a busy beach, piazza, or even Times Square for a shoot). I let him put the body sheen lotion on my legs & arms, but I took over for everywhere else professing a terrible ticklish nature.

The shoot went well. I still felt like I was in a lair with the Big Bad Wolf, tongue hanging and spittle dropping, but I did my job and got the hell out of there with my dignity intact alebeit a little shaken. I got great pictures out of that day, true. But who knows, I may be famous now if I had let him do with me as he pleased. I have met many girls who have lost huge campaigns because they would't let the client or photographer bed them. The casting couch truly does exist my friends, which is why I am happy to have kept my status as a middle model. Amen. Feeling kinda righteous.....LOL!