I'm going to open this one with the story of my first photoshoot in New York, because it's a great story. Translation: it was a complete disaster.
This story begins as many of them these days seem to: with a Craigslist post. When I first got here, I posted an ad for myself advertising my services as a portrait/fashion/headshot/wedding/you-name-it photographer. I didn't get many bites, but I did get a response from a girl named Samantha. She said that she was new to New York and had just recently signed on with Next Model Management, so she needed a photographer to provide her with some new pictures for her comp card. Having never actually gone through an agency before to get a model, I was stoked to have this opportunity (especially given that Next is probably in the top 5 modeling agencies in the world). We bounced some ideas off each other via email, and gradually I began to formulate some ideas for a couple of different looks I wanted to try. She needed to be able to show versatility in her comp card, and I wanted to go all out (since this was my first shoot in NY).
Planning was interrupted when I finally found a place to move to (I had been staying with Barry's extended family in New Jersey), but once I got settled in to my new place, I set to work getting a team together for the shoot. Since I didn't know anyone here yet, I had to rely on the internet to find stylists, and since what I had in mind was a rather large production, I needed a big team--makeup, hair, wardrobe, the model of course, and an assistant. I mainly went through Model Mayhem and Craigslist, both of which are definitely mixed bags, but I'd been fortunate enough so far to have never run into anyone unpleasant when I was working in California.
To make an exceedingly long story a bit shorter, over the span of 2 months (this was in April and May), the shoot got scheduled and then postponed no less than SEVEN times, and almost every time I had to assemble a whole new team (because when you have no budget to pay people with and you're doing trade work, people tend to get flaky). The first couple of times were because some of the stylists I'd booked wound up bailing at the last minute, and then the weather got bipolar and it wound up raining the last 3 or 4 times we tried to shoot. Finally, I (and everyone else) had had enough of the postponing, so the team and I settled on a date and stuck to it. Even when all the forecasts predicted rain for that day, we basically decided we didn't care and we were going to do it anyway because all this rescheduling was getting ridiculous.
I believe at this point, everyone I had on the team was from Craigslist. There was the quiet and unassuming makeup artist who actually turned out to have quite a lot of impressive work in her portfolio and was a joy to work with, the hair stylist who saved my butt when she responded to my last minute plea because the one I had booked bailed the night before, there was Dana (my friend from Milk) who had agreed to be my assistant, there was Samantha (the model)... and then there was Eugenio.
Eugenio Cobos. The devil incarnate.
There were so many red flags about this guy that I should have paid attention to, but I didn't because I generally assume that people are good and sane, and that it's in everybody's best interest to act like a pleasant human being. Well, I learned my lesson on that one.
The trouble began when Samantha and I went to his apartment the night before the shoot for a fitting. Eugenio is not technically a wardrobe stylist because he does not pull from other designers; he is a designer himself, and he only uses his own designs. So first of all, in our email correspondences, he had never made this clear to me. He had responded to my Craigslist ad requesting a wardrobe stylist for a fashion shoot, and since he was literally the only person I heard back from (either on CL or on Model Mayhem), I took a look at his stuff and decided it would do, so I wrote to him with the same descriptions and inspiration shots of the wardrobe/makeup/hair that I sent to everyone else. I wasn't aware until the night of the fitting that he only used his own designs.
So, ok. If his designs had been hideous, that would have been a problem, but most of them weren't (in fact many of them were quite beautiful and very unique). Anyway, I showed up to Eugenio's apartment about half an hour before Samantha did, so he took me around and showed me all of the designs he wanted to use. This was the first red flag.
First of all, I don't mean to sound nasty, but this was MY shoot. If he wanted someone to shoot specific designs of his, then HE needs to arrange a shoot and hire his own photographer to do that. His job, as a fashion stylist, was to stick to my creative vision and pull clothing that is as close as possible to what I had requested. That's just how it works. Now don't get me wrong--I am all for collaboration, and especially given that this was trade work and nobody was getting paid, I wanted to ensure that everybody was getting something useful out of this. So of course it was totally within his rights to suggest some pieces to me, whether I liked them or not. The problem was that the communication wasn't there, so when I showed up expecting to see edgy, austere black gowns, and was greeted instead with horrific S&M-inspired pink feathered monstrosities, you have to understand that I was a little dismayed. I did my best to reject those outfits as tactfully as possible, but he started getting angry at me, saying that this wasn't worth it to him if I wouldn't shoot the designs he wanted me to shoot. As it turned out, the gown that I was most excited about (a gorgeous black molded leather centurion-like breast plate with a long, flowing skirt with black ostrich feathers) was the dress that "everybody wants to shoot," and it took quite a bit of coaxing to even make him consider bringing it out. PRO TIP: transparency is good, people. If someone hires you for one thing and then you bring something totally different to the table, it's no bueno. It's better for everyone if you're upfront about your situation.
Anyway, while we waited for Samantha to arrive, Eugenio and I picked out 3 outfits that we wanted to try on her. There was a sort of avant-garde knee-length wedding dress with a similar centurion leather top (only white) with beading and a silky bubble skirt, the black dress I adored, and then there was a hot pink pair of wide-legged pants paired with a red paisley pattern long-sleeved blouse with Victorian ruffles that went up the neck (I hated the last outfit, but I made a deal with Eugenio that I would shoot it if he allowed me to use the black dress).
So then Samantha arrived, and things got weird. Aside from the 3 outfits I just mentioned, we'd also set aside a few other possibilities, and she tried one of those first. We left her alone in the room to change (much to Eugenio's chagrin), and when we came back, the dress was obviously too loose for her in some areas. Now, in the fashion world, it's quite common to pin clothes to the model. It's done all the time. When you see those dapper men in Givenchy ads with their perfectly tailored suits, what you don't see is all the clothes pins in the back, cinching the suit at the waist and making it look like the model was sewn into it. So this was the obvious choice--but Eugenio would have nothing of it. He started insisting that the problem was Samantha; that she was too skinny, and that he refused to pin any of his clothing.
Uh... okay...
So that immediately disqualified some of the outfits we'd chosen. Luckily, she fit well enough into the 3 outfits we'd picked in the first place (although the pants had to be hemmed by 4-5 inches so Samantha could walk without tripping, even though she's 6' tall and was wearing heels).
The next confrontation came when we got to discussing footwear. Samantha had just moved from Canada and had not brought much with her, so as far as shoes went, all she really had were a pair of black pumps. Now, I had thought that black pumps were pretty much universal. I mean, certainly they go better with some things than others, but I always regarded them as the failsafe option when it comes to fashion. Well, Eugenio was ok with them for the black dress and the horrible pink ensemble, but when she tried them on with the white outfit, he was absolutely not ok with it. And where a normal person would have explained calmly that there were probably better options and that we should look for something else, Eugenio got angry. He said there was no way he would allow us to shoot with his clothing if we dared to shoot this white dress with *gasp* black pumps. I mentioned that I had a pair of white kitten heels that would go well with the dress, and that seemed to calm him, so I bought them the next day (but it turned out that he'd gone to DSW to get two pairs of shoes that he deemed more suitable anyway).
The last little kerfuffle of the night happened when Eugenio suggested that Samantha wear these little stick-on boob-fillers under one of the outfits. She was uncomfortable with it and didn't think it was necessary (neither did I for that matter), and he got annoyed again, but that was all we heard about it that night. As Samantha and I left, we confided in each other once we were out of earshot that the guy had some control issues and that we were a little worried about tomorrow. I, for my part, was still optimistic that things would work out, but in retrospect I really should have seen what was coming.
The day of the shoot started out well. All weather reports had predicted rain, but it actually didn't wind up raining all day (it was very hot and hazy, but still). I had gotten permission from my cousin Gail to use her apartment in the city as a place to do prep work, so I got there early to set up, and bought water and granola bars for everyone (don't want anybody getting grumpy from hunger/thirst). Samantha and the hair and makeup stylists all got there at about the same time, so they got to work, and things were going smoothly. I did a few "natural look" shots by the window, and then they got started on the hair and makeup for the first look.
Hair and makeup were done quickly and beautifully, but the problems started when we started packing up to go to the first location. Since we would be shooting on location and it was obviously out of the question to wear a couture garment in transit, we had to discuss how Samantha would change once we got there. Eugenio waved the question off as if I'd been stupid to ask it, and suggested that we bring a big sheet and hold it around her so she could just slip into it quickly in public. Personally, I would have been ok with that, and I know that that's usually how it's done anyway because it's fast and simple, but Samantha wanted privacy, so she suggested that we find a Starbucks or something where she could use a bathroom. A reasonable request (especially since there's a Starbucks on every block in NYC), and in any case I appreciate how important it is to ensure that the model is comfortable with how everything is going... but as usual, Eugenio had a problem with that. So there was a little argument about that, but then Eugenio brought up the pasties again and insisted that Samantha wear them because otherwise she wouldn't fill out the top.
Now, before I go any further, let me add an element to the story. Although Eugenio was, admittedly, a huge jerk, Samantha didn't help matters. I generally found her pleasant, and we got along like friends... but as much as she tried to deny it, it was pretty clear to the rest of us that she's kind of a newbie in the modeling world. I don't hold that against her, but she did have an attitude with Eugenio that only exacerbated the situation. The thing is, when you get into high fashion modeling, you have to let go of privacy. It sounds harsh, but your job as a model is to sit there while people put stuff on you, do what you're told to do, don't do what you're told not to do, hold still, and don't speak until spoken to. It's awful. Really--if I've learned anything in my time here assisting other photographers and seeing what it's like to be a model, it's that it's not nearly as glamorous as people like to think. Samantha didn't understand this yet, so the idea of putting on these pasties (especially with his help) was unacceptable to her, and she made it known. To her credit, she tried to be as polite about it as possible, but when you're dealing with a guy who's used to having it his way or the highway, any voice of dissent is only going to wake the beast.
So this brought about his first tantrum. We hadn't even left the apartment yet, and he was already yelling at her, telling her to her face that she was an unprofessional bitch and she needs to learn her place. Meanwhile, the rest of us stood around, dumbstruck, as Eugenio threw the pasties to the floor, and stomped over to his suitcase, angrily grabbing garment bags from the closet and threatening to leave right then and there. Panicked, I ran over to him and did my best to talk him down, but he refused to work with us any more unless Samantha would agree to wear the pasties. So, begrudgingly, she agreed, and we headed off to the first location.
Before leaving, I had asked everyone if they were ok with taking the subway (the apartment was on 83rd, and we needed to get to 59th & 5th--I'd even offered to pay for everyone's fare). In fact, I had asked Eugenio the night before at the fitting whether he was ok with it, and he said, "Of course! That's no problem, I'm not fancy." Yeah right. Once we got down to the station, the already flustered Eugenio threw up his hands and exclaimed, "This is bullshit! I'm taking a cab." Not fancy my ass. Dana suggested that she go with him just to make sure he didn't bail, and I thought that was a good idea, so I sent her after him, and the rest of us took a train.
We all got there at about the same time (honestly, cabs are not worth it--with all the traffic, it'll take just as long as the subway, at about 8x the price). But Eugenio had apparently talked poor Dana's ear off in the car about his frustrations, and had apparently come to the conclusion that we weren't worth his time, so he told me that he was willing to stay and do this one look, but that he was leaving after that, and I wouldn't get to shoot the black gown. And he said this much more colorfully than I just did, flinging extremely vicious insults at Samantha and saying that all of us were wasting his time. At this point I was so angry I was actually shaking, and I decided it was finally time to give him a piece of my mind, since it seemed the shoot was doomed anyway. Without stooping to his level, I got straight with him, telling him how absolutely inappropriate it was of him to treat Samantha like this, and how unfair it was of him to be throwing these fits and wasting our time when all of us had worked so hard to make this shoot happen. Finally, Dana stepped in and (temporarily) saved the day by talking him down enough to agree to do the black gown after all.
So we found a Starbucks, and Eugenio, Samantha and I all crammed into the bathroom to get her into the first outfit. But tensions started to rise again almost immediately when Samantha kept trying to hold herself while Eugenio laced up the top. He kept telling her to stop, but she wouldn't because she could feel her breasts slipping... so he completely lost his shit. He practically tore the thing off her, got within inches of her face to spit insults at her, and screamed at her to stop looking at me when she would turn and give me incredulous looks. The guy was a straight up psychopath. At that point I knew the shoot wasn't going to happen, because even if we'd been able to delay him a little longer, it was only a matter of time before he exploded again. So he packed his stuff while Samantha and I stood there in shocked silence, and then he left.
All of us were feeling pretty defeated at this point, but with the hair and makeup already done, we decided to make the best of it and take some pictures anyway (the dress Samantha had arrived in was kind of cute anyway). The problem, of course, was that Eugenio still had stuff at Gail's apartment, and he couldn't get in without me being there to unlock the doors. But I was so angry at the guy that I decided he could wait--I just needed to let him know that we'd be a little while so he didn't freak out. Bad decision. I texted him to let him know that we were going to shoot but that we'd head back in about half an hour, and he actually threatened to call the cops on me if I didn't come back immediately. Now, whether or not he actually would have done it is another matter... and whether the cops would have done anything about it was also doubtful, but this guy was a psychopath, and in any case, I didn't want to have to bring my cousin into this since she'd been nice enough to let me use her apartment in the first place. So we packed up our stuff and went back.
I didn't even talk to him or look at him when I let him in, I just made sure that he grabbed his stuff, didn't disturb anything, and left.
Since we still had the rooftop as a location, we decided to try to shoot up there, but Samantha was over it by that point. I had hoped to at least get something out of the shoot, but she was tired and upset and she'd lost all motivation to try anymore, so we called it a day.
So, in summary... TLDR; After having to reschedule 7 times, I lugged a 40lb suitcase up and down subway stairs and all around Manhattan in 95 degree humid weather for a shoot with a newbie model and a legitimately insane fashion designer who is literally the most unpleasant person I've ever had the misfortune of meeting... and at the end of the day, I didn't get a single good picture out of it.
It's times like these when you just have to laugh it off, take the life lessons to heart, and think of it as a great story that you'll tell your friends.
* * *
Oh my god that was exhausting. If you're still reading... I salute you.
There are plenty of other adventures that I've had since then, but I'm not sure I have the energy to write them all out.
I suppose the highlight would be that Barry was here for the last two months. He stayed with his family in New Jersey for the beginning of it (up until a week or two after Reuben & Thy's wedding), but then he stayed with me for the last month and a half ish at my apartment in Bushwick. Unfortunately it was quite hot for the majority of the time he was here (like, hot to the point where you're afraid of getting heat stroke if you go outside), so we didn't do as much sight seeing as I'd hoped. We did definitely get to do some fun things though... we spent some time at the Hudson River Park, traversed through Central Park and Battery Park, went to a super secret speakeasy with Reuben and Thy, went to a couple of Jonah's amazing roof parties in Greenwich Village, went on a boat cruise for my friend Kelly's birthday, walked around Times Square, saw Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory at a free screening in Bryant Park, explored Coney Island, went to the MoMA, walked the Highline, met a guy with Google Glasses (and he let us try them!), saw the 4th of July fireworks at the edge of the Hudson River, befriended a bar tender at a bar called The Belfry (free drinks ftw), swam at Rockaway Beach, and even went to a Caravan Palace concert at Irving Plaza (which was amazing, by the way).
Unfortunately, despite the fun we had, Barry's made it abundantly clear that he doesn't like New York City. He's never really been much of a city boy (although he does like San Francisco, and apparently even prefers LA to NYC... which is like, incomprehensible to me... but whatever). He prefers to be able to spread out. To breathe clean air, walk in nature that hasn't been designed by humans, and see the stars at night. So I understand that, but he says that if it weren't for me, he'd never even consider living here. I'd be lying if I said that didn't make me worry about where we're headed. But as he likes to remind me: how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.
I've been missing him a lot lately. You get used to living with someone you're that close with, and they almost become like an extension of yourself. Then when they leave, you have to relearn how to be alone.
Finally at the end I just decided I wasn't going to deal with it anymore, so I moved out a week early. Oh! And there was a whole week one time where I had to vacate the apartment and stay with Barry's aunt and uncle because the bathroom was literally sinking through the floor into the basement apartment. Both my roommates told me that the building manager was crazy and that he'd threatened them before, and they said he probably wouldn't do anything about it, but finally I just got the guy's number and called him myself, and a plumber was sent to fix the situation within a couple of hours. Just goes to show, if you want something done right, do it yourself.
Anyway, the new place I found through the Listings Project, which is actually something Dana told me about. It's a weekly email that you can subscribe to with a bunch of listings for rooms/apartments/studios/sublets/etc, and it's all within the artist community. So it's less sketchy than Craigslist, with the added benefits that you'll already have something in common with your roommates because you're all artists, and you have way less competition because it gets way less traffic. The apartment is in Prospect Heights, which is right between Crown Heights and Park Slope in Brooklyn, and it's like 2 blocks away from Prospect Park, the Brooklyn Museum, and this gigantic library that I have yet to check out. It's a beautiful neighborhood with easy access to the city, and the apartment itself is MUCH nicer than the old one. It's bigger, newer, everyone here is pretty clean so it's kept in way better shape, and it's actually slightly less per month than the old place. I also really like my roommates, and they have two australian shepherd / lab puppies (they're sisters) who I absolutely adore. Also, the lease is up at the end of December, at which point I will have the opportunity to renew it if I want to, so that's perfect for me because if I have a job by then and can afford to stay here, I can. So all in all, I'm in a much happier living situation than I was.
Ok, one more thing before I finally finish this novel-sized entry...
A few weeks ago I did some product shots for a girl who designs these kind of futuristic/psychedelic glasses and goggles. Here's some pictures:
I also did a little video:
Anyway, they're really cool, and I'm going to be doing a fashion shoot with them soon. I have yet to assemble a team, and as you can imagine, I'm approaching this with some trepidation because of what happened last time... but I'd like to think I learned from my mistakes, and I'll know how to handle things better this time around.
OK! This post is already way too long as it is, so I'm going to stop. The good news is we're officially up to date! Yay! Hopefully I'll manage to keep this going at a steady rate so I don't have to write ridiculously long entries anymore. But no promises.
'Til next time!
