picture day

I remember Picture Day at school.  Wondering what to wear.  Saving my favorite dress for that very special school photo.  And then, the disappointing result — like bangs that are way too short, even for a third grader.

that's me, bottom row, third from left

My high school graduation picture is formal.  My hair looks teased, styled, and lacquered,  and I’m pretty sure those are fake eyelashes I'm wearing.

Formality disappears in college, and I show up for my senior-year photo in painter pants — the rage back then.

Pictures for work are better. 

I am the consummate professional in 1995, at Procter & Gamble Productions. There was a time when my hair looked presentable with little or no effort. Not anymore.

Today I am having my picture taken for my new career; I get my hair blown out before going. 

But I need to show up dressed in something. I look at pictures of other brokers, trying to decide if I should go the safe-but-boring corporate route (black jacket and white top), or, something a little more interesting (beige leather jacket and white top).  I can’t decide so I pack up both and head to Union Square, where I am meeting the photographer.

It’s a sunny, windy, 41-degree day.  Nice for winter.

I arrive at 11:15 for my 11:20 appointment, and join others already waiting, including another salesperson also with an 11:20 appointment.  We are all freezing.

After a half hour of watching others strip down to their corporate looks, the wind picks up. It is finally my turn and the photographer tells me to wait.  She takes out her phone and calls someone; I hear her say, “It’s so windy out here, I think we should postpone the rest until next Thursday.”  I’m thinking, but I paid to have my hair blown out today.  Just then, the wind dies down and the photographer says,  “Okay, hurry, let’s try a few.”

And we do.