Photoshoot Shmotoshoot

Tiff Finney

Ahh, they just sound so inspiring don’t they these photoshoots? They promise so much. The hair. The make-up. The attention to just you. The director, the photographer, the works. I don’t know what it is but I just tend to lose the ability to co-ordinate my limbs. I developed serious claw hand. Exactly like Chandler with that bloody Pac Man game! The experience also let me know, really let me know, that I have one seriously wonky eye on photos. Like the winking face emoticon. Check the pictures on the website. Can you spy and head on close-ups? Can you heck. The people choosing the photos to ‘grace’ the website (one incidently my supposed best friend) deemed it appropriate to show only photographs that didn’t involve my head on wonky face. Coincidence? I think not. I just hope that most other people don’t have an annoyingly symmetrical face either.

I got the pics back. We were choosing a select few which was difficult. It leads you to think that it is hard to whittle them down. In reality it was because we couldn’t whittle them up. Sharon, my bestie and my life organiser and sorter-outer, tried to palm me off with the old ”it’s better to have a very small amount of good pictures rather than lots of not many good ones”. Did she forget that I actually know her and that I therefore knew exactly what she meant?

I was also apparently crap at “finding the light”. Before you think “stop being melodramatic, I’m sure it was fine”, the photographer told me loads of times, really loudly, that I was crap at it. I agree incase you’re wondering, Artpunk Muir. And I still love you, you git. Good models know where the light is. Not only that, they seemed to have light coming out of their pores where I have only oil. In my defence, it was in a dark club. I loved the club we did it in, Buff Club in Glasgow. I’ve been there a lot on nights out dancing to some motown and funk soul. By the way, have any other pole dancers experienced this too- I used to well give it some on the dancefloor. I was so free and got down like there was no tomorrow. Now though, since pole dancing, I can’t dance without holding a pole. I am about as good as a Dad these days in the middle of a dance floor!

So back to the shoot. 8 hours, one large egg and ham omelette, one larger Merlot, shed loads of costume changes and 6 different scenes later, I am pleased with what we got. I got to wear my fave Bad Kitty Pole Fit Gear and some of my bestest shoes too. Then I got to strut off to teach some pole classes at the studio. I left everyone else behind at the shoot picking the hair up from the ground that they had pulled out in exasperation during the day. I’m pleased to report that their hair grew back.

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