‘So, what kind of photography do you do, is it weddings and families, that type of thing?’ came the next inevitable question. I suppose, since most people’s only experience with photographers is at weddings and other family occasions, it makes that inevitable question, well… inevitable. Depending on how open and broadminded she was, my next answer could be the end of a burgeoning friendship, which would be a shame.
‘No, I’ve never photographed a wedding in my life,’ I told her, and then continued describing what I did in exactly the same way that I had told it to Carla. ‘Mind you, I’ve photographed quite a few brides in their bridal lingerie.’ She looked surprised.
‘What do you mean, brides in bridal lingerie?’ she asked.
‘Well, as you probably know, most brides spend a lot of money on the wedding dress, but they also spend a lot of money on what they are wearing under the dress. Very expensive white lingerie, with white stockings, the works.’ She nodded, following my drift completely. ‘Some of them want to be photographed wearing their wedding lingerie and give the photos in a secret and very private wedding album to their new husband. That’s what I do, or rather part of what I do.
‘What do the husbands think of you seeing their wives in their underwear? Don’t they get jealous and want to shoot you or something? It could prove to be dangerous, I think’ and she laughed.
‘No, no, in fact most of the husbands are very happy. They are so proud of their beautiful wives, surely you can understand that?’ and she agreed with me on that point, so I continued. ‘They seem delighted with the photos of their bride in lingerie, and sometimes even less,’ I slipped in.
‘What, do you mean… ‘ and she looked around conspiratorially, lowering her voice… nude?’ She seemed fascinated by my revelations, and I confirmed her suspicions with the proverbial nod and a wink.
‘And you get paid to do this?’ she said, almost in disbelief, and I confirmed that I did, and very well too.
‘It’s called, Boudoir Photography,’ I added. She said nothing for a minute or two, eating, chewing slowly, obviously thinking of what to say, and I let the silence hang there, but also wondering if I’d maybe said too much.
‘When I was younger,’ she said, changing the subject, ‘I often dreamed and fantasised about being a model. Just silly, teenage dreams though. I didn’t have a clue where to begin and I just forgot about it. You’ve reminded me of that. I’m glad for you that you’re following your dreams, it must be a wonderful feeling to be doing something you love,’ she concluded.
‘Yes it is Elena, I’m happier now than I’ve been for a long time,’ but I felt so sad for her as I said it. ‘How about you? You’re a beautiful woman, you’re not too old, you could still do some modelling if you wanted to. I could help you if you want.’ I offered. She smiled, a sad wistful smile.
‘No, I don’t think so, I’m too old, modelling is a young girl’s career, not for somebody my age. Who would want me?’ she mused.
‘I would,’ I said immediately. ‘I’d love to photograph you. When I said you were beautiful Elena I meant it. You have something that most of those 18 to 25, year olds just haven’t got, and that’s personality, confidence, poise, sophistication. You look classy, and beautiful, and you have a lovely figure and legs too. You must have noticed me looking.’ She laughed, and nodded in agreement. ‘I’d photograph you in a heartbeat if you let me.’ Her air of sadness was lifting by the second. ‘Furthermore,’ I continued, ‘I’ve spent the whole day interviewing possible models for my new studio, which is why I am so tired and exhausted tonight, and after I leave here, I’m going straight home to relax, read a book, or whatever, and go to bed early.’ Now she was smiling again. ‘I’ll tell you now Elena, we interviewed about 6o young women today, and are only interested in about 8 or 10 of them. If you had been there, you would have been an automatic choice, that’s how highly I think of you.’
‘Wow, that’s some speech,’ she laughed, then more seriously. ‘You’re not joking, are you? I think you really mean it.’
‘Too bloody right I mean it,’ I said emphatically. ‘Let me photograph you, and you’ll see just how good you can look, and if you decide it’s not for you, then at least you’ve tried. Don’t look back in twenty years’ time, filled with regrets and say, “Oh I wish…” because there’s nothing worse than regrets.’ I finished.
‘If I did decide to do it, when would you want me?’ she asked, and knowing how easy it was for doubts to creep in if left too long to think about it, I thought the sooner the better.
‘I’m free tomorrow afternoon about 2pm, if you can manage,’ I suggested. She thought for a moment… a long moment.
‘Okay, I can manage that. Where do I come to?’ so I gave her the address, and then she said, ‘what do you want me to wear?’ This where it could all far apart, I thought.
‘I like to start off with the model fully dressed, and gradually move on to the lingerie shots,’ I said. ‘So, take maybe a couple of dresses, or skirts and blouses, and a few different sets of lingerie. Stockings if you have them, and high heel shoes too,’ I added. ‘Does that sound okay to you?’ I asked, hoping that it did.