She asks me to send her photos of me in three outfits. "Something you'll feel comfortable in." They will ultimately pick one for me to wear the night of the shoot.
I am most comfortable in jeans, and loose-fitting clothes, though that might not be my best look.
I enlist the help of my neighbor's 15-year old son to be my photographer. I am sure he is thrilled with the assignment. He's polite, though, and doesn't ask why I want my head cut out (it's another bad hair day, like most).
After considering a multitude of outfits, I settle on four.
I am told that denim is okay "with a nice top," so I choose two.
And then I choose two dresses. The first is a body-hugging black dress with a sheer bolero over it. In the picture I come across as frumpy.
The second dress is one I've never worn. It's another tight-fitting dress. From the photo, it looks as if I have no waist. I'm not thrilled with the way I look here either.
In fact, later I decide that flowers on TV may be unflattering, and retract this option.
At the same time we're discussing clothes, I am reviewing/negotiating terms of a 7-page contract. You'd think I was signing on to a multi-year deal and I'm starring.
But everything is moving quickly, and I'm honored to have been selected. The studio's enthusiasm is contagious and it feels good to be wanted.
No comments:
Post a Comment