Weekend o' photo shoot
Aug. 9th, 2004 02:23 amWell, had entirely silly weekend at
tirinar's, with Taz. Friday was spent getting to Burgess Hill (why, why must it be so far away?), discovering local comic shop was closed due to flooding :wails:, and watching A Knights's Tale. (Yes,
munchkinott, I was thinking of you...) During which we drooled, slashed, quoted our little hearts out, squeed, mocked the William's dad scene, posited that Jocelyn gets made to marry Adhemar *anyway* - it's not like William has any connections, money, lands or even a decent title compared to the Comte d'Anjou. Oh, and Chaucer's coat and all the costumes were examined. It's only in the con circuit of costumers would you get 'okay, when he spins you can see that this one's just edged, but the other one is definitely lined' when watching the speeches, in the middle of quoting it along with him and going 'I want one of the coat and five of him. And his wife.'
Saturday, woke up at evil hour (okay, 8am, but this was like a con weekend, with 'sleep? what sleep?') Liz arrived for photoshoot, as did December and Jasmine. Have discovered how to work with intensely shy children. Went through December's first costume first while Jas hid in the kitchen. Tors coaxed Jas out, got her into the werewolf outfit, which I still insist is a lion outfit and to let go of Tors' leg, then stood in front of me.
Me : Right. Sulk, please. Pout.
Jas : '....' :decides that she can do this, as it's not like I'm asking her to grin:
Me : Turn, pose, etc. Please pout.
Jasmine complies.
Me : Right, you've eaten your sister's chocolate.
Jasmine produces an absolutely evil little grin.
Me : Right, she's just nicked one of your toys....
Jasmine produces a glare fit for the temperature in hell.
After that, she'd happily grin and bounce and go 'Heather Heather Heather'. Bonding through telling them *not* to grin. Heh. Tors actually wanted cute little 'grr'-ing motions, but considering how much everyone was cracking up at the sulks, believe this has produced a better effect.
Proceeded to act like tyrannical, demanding photographer for rest of photoshoot weekend. And yes, The Austin Powers 'Make love to the camera baby - yes! yes! yes! No! No! And... I'm spent.' may be a godawful cliche, but it does produce the best results. Including imprecations of 'Touch the hair and die.' Also, asking people to actually say lines produces good results. Tell 'em to pose all you want, but get the girl in the Jessica Rabbit dress to say words to the effect of 'You're not worth me, I'm too expensive, get away you nasty little oik.' produces a fantasic haughty glare and suddenly five times more slink. It's the relaxation thing.
Went out to Brighton on Sat night, having decided we'd go to the Beach (70s and 80s) and cursing the fact that we'd missed Pride. Liz had had far too much fun in the Lara Croft outfit and insisted on keeping the hair for most of the rest of the shoots and wore it out. Taz in trousers and top, Tors in shiny pvc corset and skirt, me in tiny bikini and skirt, Liz in Lara Croft. See three of us being completely ignored for cries of 'Lara Croft!' Yes, dress as a male fantasy figure and you too can get immense amounts of attention. We'd previously phoned the club to check dress code.
Liz : Hi, I'm just phoning to ask about dress code tonight - I'm coming back from a photoshoot and I'm in a Lara Croft outfit. Is that okay?
Guy on other end of phone :drools: Uh.... fine, fine, fine, *please* turn up.
:snerk:
Night was fun, having first encountered outside the club a stag night dressed gay, with Home and Away school uniforms, leather outfits and sailor stuff... and they asked a troop of females if we possibly had any make-up with us. We stared and proceeded to pull out eyeliner, three mirrors, three lipsticks and two eyeshadows, and applied it to them. Only person not carrying any was Liz, because she'd decided to not be arsed with the outfit.
Yours truly did spend the walk down going 'dammit, why didn't I bring the Sally Bowles outfit?' See Tors point out that it was Pride. I'd have got mobbed and stripped nekkid. Compensated by singing Mein Herr with Liz at full volume on the sea front. Lots of singing of musicals entered into that weekend.
Unfortunately, the stag night blokes proceeded to glom onto us for the rest of the night - fun dancing at first and then decided to not understand the concept of 'No, we're *really* not interested' later on. Complained about possibly having a 'grind here' sign posted to my arse. Tors and Taz pointed out that it was mostly the short skirt. Am never wearing suede out clubbing again since the skirt got absolutely soaked in sweat. Counted *seven* hen nights, points for originality going to the girls dressed as grannies. Later, after the others went to the taxi rank and I went in search of pizza, got the comment of 'Titties titties titties' from some Portugese bloke. My response being to snarl 'My god, really?' and barge straight through. But otherwise night supremely fabulous.
Photoshoot came to end Sunday with 14 shots left on camera and Tors groaning 'I am so not in the mood for doing God since it takes a bloody age to style the wig, so do what the hell you like.'
Me : Can I play arty with Liz?
Tors : You need props?
Liz, when she heard : You're trading me to Heather, aren't you?
Tors : :snigger:
Did decadent opium-fueled twenties-thirties photos, then got Tors' dad to use the last three shots to get group photos of us.
Went cinema, saw King Arthur - Tors and Liz hadn't seen it before - giggled, noted body paint designs, discussed historical problems, the horse thing 'We've just stumbled onto a Lloyds Bank advert', and the fact that Ray Winstone and Mark Ryan were having too much fun collaborating again. Me groaning '452! Christ, if you'd just set it 42 years earlier it would have at least made more sense!' Made Braveheart comments, and saw something I hadn't noticed previously. The Roman legionnaries aren't wearing leggings. Leggings were damn well standard issue uniform anywhere even mildly colder than most of Italy, see Gladiator, Asterix, and most of the contemporary pictures. Perhaps the costumer dedided to skimp in that one area... Galahad's bare legs, on the other hand, are him being a hard nut and refusing to be separated from his kilt. Tors asked if chief saxon was Geoffrey Rush - hadn't noticed the resemblance before. Oh, and lots of inappropriate laughter when people were killed or made slashy comments.
Heh.
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Saturday, woke up at evil hour (okay, 8am, but this was like a con weekend, with 'sleep? what sleep?') Liz arrived for photoshoot, as did December and Jasmine. Have discovered how to work with intensely shy children. Went through December's first costume first while Jas hid in the kitchen. Tors coaxed Jas out, got her into the werewolf outfit, which I still insist is a lion outfit and to let go of Tors' leg, then stood in front of me.
Me : Right. Sulk, please. Pout.
Jas : '....' :decides that she can do this, as it's not like I'm asking her to grin:
Me : Turn, pose, etc. Please pout.
Jasmine complies.
Me : Right, you've eaten your sister's chocolate.
Jasmine produces an absolutely evil little grin.
Me : Right, she's just nicked one of your toys....
Jasmine produces a glare fit for the temperature in hell.
After that, she'd happily grin and bounce and go 'Heather Heather Heather'. Bonding through telling them *not* to grin. Heh. Tors actually wanted cute little 'grr'-ing motions, but considering how much everyone was cracking up at the sulks, believe this has produced a better effect.
Proceeded to act like tyrannical, demanding photographer for rest of photoshoot weekend. And yes, The Austin Powers 'Make love to the camera baby - yes! yes! yes! No! No! And... I'm spent.' may be a godawful cliche, but it does produce the best results. Including imprecations of 'Touch the hair and die.' Also, asking people to actually say lines produces good results. Tell 'em to pose all you want, but get the girl in the Jessica Rabbit dress to say words to the effect of 'You're not worth me, I'm too expensive, get away you nasty little oik.' produces a fantasic haughty glare and suddenly five times more slink. It's the relaxation thing.
Went out to Brighton on Sat night, having decided we'd go to the Beach (70s and 80s) and cursing the fact that we'd missed Pride. Liz had had far too much fun in the Lara Croft outfit and insisted on keeping the hair for most of the rest of the shoots and wore it out. Taz in trousers and top, Tors in shiny pvc corset and skirt, me in tiny bikini and skirt, Liz in Lara Croft. See three of us being completely ignored for cries of 'Lara Croft!' Yes, dress as a male fantasy figure and you too can get immense amounts of attention. We'd previously phoned the club to check dress code.
Liz : Hi, I'm just phoning to ask about dress code tonight - I'm coming back from a photoshoot and I'm in a Lara Croft outfit. Is that okay?
Guy on other end of phone :drools: Uh.... fine, fine, fine, *please* turn up.
:snerk:
Night was fun, having first encountered outside the club a stag night dressed gay, with Home and Away school uniforms, leather outfits and sailor stuff... and they asked a troop of females if we possibly had any make-up with us. We stared and proceeded to pull out eyeliner, three mirrors, three lipsticks and two eyeshadows, and applied it to them. Only person not carrying any was Liz, because she'd decided to not be arsed with the outfit.
Yours truly did spend the walk down going 'dammit, why didn't I bring the Sally Bowles outfit?' See Tors point out that it was Pride. I'd have got mobbed and stripped nekkid. Compensated by singing Mein Herr with Liz at full volume on the sea front. Lots of singing of musicals entered into that weekend.
Unfortunately, the stag night blokes proceeded to glom onto us for the rest of the night - fun dancing at first and then decided to not understand the concept of 'No, we're *really* not interested' later on. Complained about possibly having a 'grind here' sign posted to my arse. Tors and Taz pointed out that it was mostly the short skirt. Am never wearing suede out clubbing again since the skirt got absolutely soaked in sweat. Counted *seven* hen nights, points for originality going to the girls dressed as grannies. Later, after the others went to the taxi rank and I went in search of pizza, got the comment of 'Titties titties titties' from some Portugese bloke. My response being to snarl 'My god, really?' and barge straight through. But otherwise night supremely fabulous.
Photoshoot came to end Sunday with 14 shots left on camera and Tors groaning 'I am so not in the mood for doing God since it takes a bloody age to style the wig, so do what the hell you like.'
Me : Can I play arty with Liz?
Tors : You need props?
Liz, when she heard : You're trading me to Heather, aren't you?
Tors : :snigger:
Did decadent opium-fueled twenties-thirties photos, then got Tors' dad to use the last three shots to get group photos of us.
Went cinema, saw King Arthur - Tors and Liz hadn't seen it before - giggled, noted body paint designs, discussed historical problems, the horse thing 'We've just stumbled onto a Lloyds Bank advert', and the fact that Ray Winstone and Mark Ryan were having too much fun collaborating again. Me groaning '452! Christ, if you'd just set it 42 years earlier it would have at least made more sense!' Made Braveheart comments, and saw something I hadn't noticed previously. The Roman legionnaries aren't wearing leggings. Leggings were damn well standard issue uniform anywhere even mildly colder than most of Italy, see Gladiator, Asterix, and most of the contemporary pictures. Perhaps the costumer dedided to skimp in that one area... Galahad's bare legs, on the other hand, are him being a hard nut and refusing to be separated from his kilt. Tors asked if chief saxon was Geoffrey Rush - hadn't noticed the resemblance before. Oh, and lots of inappropriate laughter when people were killed or made slashy comments.
Heh.