GIRL CULTURE instigated a bit of an argument with my ex, after I bought the book a couple of years ago and left it in the living room.
HE: (looking at the front cover, which is a photo of a teenage girl adjusting her bra and looking at herself in the mirror) Why is there porn out on the table in full view?
ME: (indignant) It's not porn!
I mentioned this to Lauren and she laughed.
The shoot took place at my house. The day before, she had sent over her assistants to scout out the house and take some quick photos of it and of me. Then she brought over her crew and a hair/makeup/stylist person. Lauren and I went to my closet to assemble the necessary outfits. "Black is not allowed," she said, which eliminated at least two thirds of my wardrobe right there. At one point she suggested a pair of velvet shorts (which I forgot I even had) and heels. That did not happen.
It amazes me how much effort is required to get that one "perfect" shot. Lauren would change cameras and order her lighting guy to make adjustments and then she'd take some shots and they'd confer for a bit. Then she'd order one of her assistants to change something in the background, or she'd tell me to take one step to the left, and the process would begin all over again. The hair/makeup/stylist was constantly hovering nearby, calling, "Stepping!" and then stepping in to dab my forehead or reapply lip gloss or adjust my hair. A lot of time, effort and professionalism went into making me look as attractive as possible. If only I could look that good in daily life, but that would require walking down the street and going about my business with one person holding this big board-like thing over my head to filter and wrap the light and another person yelling "Stepping!" every five minutes. Which would make general conversation kind of difficult.