July 25, 2013

picture perfect.

Before I even start this post I want to say – all is good. I am not complaining, I am not sad, I am not annoyed...I am just a bit exhausted from my day and I am writing to reflect why that is.
Today I got up “early” (I won't tell you what that means for me, because all of you will hate me) the second day in the row as we had a company photo shoot which got postponed from yesterday when I got up “early” the first time around. Yes, we are the people who are always behind the lens, but today it was our turn to shine for our new website. Meh.
I absolutely hate having my picture taken. When I was sixteen my brother, the professional and very awesome and talented photographer, put me in front of a big light and agreed to take my passport picture. Oh the honor and the joy! Finally a passport picture that would show my real beauty and get me upgrades and make anybody who would see it instantly fall in love with me. Or so I thought. Well lit or not, I hated the picture and told my brother as much. It was never intended as a reflection on his skill, but always about my face, so I thought he should have responded in kind. Call it an older brother phenomenon, but he only said “well, I can only be as good as the model”.

Ever since I have refused to be in front of a camera unless being fed copious amount of drinks first. Or have someone with photoshop skills on hand. Or have someone who loves me direct my chin lovingly into an angle that makes it disappear. Preferably all of the above at once.
When people tell me how photogenic I am I feel insulted. To me they just called me ugly, because if that’s how I really look like live, oh boy… Guys, I am not being self-deprecating because most days I look at myself in the mirror I am perfectly fine with the view. It is really the reflection in pictures that I don't enjoy nor do I think it is a fair representation of me.

So you can imagine how not excited I was having to wake up early, again, and have my picture taken. By the way I should add that a guy, who I was once madly in love with and who broke my heart and who himself is still to my now unloving eye utterly gorgeous, was our photographer. Now can you please feel a bit sorry for me?

But yes I managed. I honestly didn't care about the pictures too much. I was so worried about my double chin showing up that I forgot my eyes really wrinkle when I smile a lot. Fuck.

So tonight I just feel exhausted, but I don't I don't want to whine. Life is utterly good to me right now and just sitting here right now I remember a post I read thismorning. Which asked us to list things we love about ourselves. I replied and wrote: I love the reflection of my body in a Bikram class. I wear shorts that are probably too short and too tight for my body type, but I can move in them. And so I look at this body of mine that is moving and that can do things, that is breathing and that is strong and healthy. That body of mine that is dripping sweat and that face of mine that is read and that hair – let's just say it is worse than usual - but I see all of it and I do feel beautiful.

And now while I'm lying in bed I look over at my little 'wall' and there is this one picture of my friend Sam and myself. He hugs me and kisses my forehead. The whole pictures, at least me in it, is so far from perfect and I could take it apart for you, yet all I see is my smile, my friend who loves me and my beautiful Lanvin dress.

And then I remember a conversation I had a long time ago with a friend in New York who asked me if it wasn't depressing to work with beautiful models all the time. But mainly I still remember my reply: no, if I had the choice I'd always rather be the stylist than the model. At least as stylist I get to create and do and think and not just stand there and have someone dress me. - I really want to add here that I have met many amazing women over the years, models, who work hard and are beautiful and smart and funny. Why would someone not use her strong suits whether it be an affinity for science, a love for words, or a great bone structure to make a living or a career? I have also learned that it doesn't matter how beautiful someone is to the rest of the world, they can still feel like an ugly duckling on the inside - However the truth is there are makers and doers and dreamers in this world and models are usually the ones being used as a canvas to reflect these people's work. And so when it comes to this I still always rather be a maker, a doer, and a dreamer than a beautiful canvas. In my case I rather create a lasting impression with my words than with my face. Even though that face of mine is a great one.
Part Einstein, part Lion Pose. 


  1. Honey, this is without a doubt the best post I've read of yours to date! Writing with honesty and heart! LOVE LOVE LOVE!!

    1. Thanks so much! Happy to know you appreciate my scary, no make-up, wild hair picture :)


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...