vendredi, avril 11, 2008

For reasons of practicality and of egotism, I decided to get a professional head shot that I could send with my columns. Not that anyone is kicking down the door to see what I look like now,as opposed to what I looked like half a decade ago.

A few weeks ago, I stopped by at the studio of a local photographer.

After fiddling with his machines to adjust to my reflective blue silk jacket, he began. About sixty photos and a few poses later, he told me he'd call in a week or two to show me the pictures on his laptop.

This morning I went over to his office, where I was greeted by a photo he had already printed. I have to tell you, readers, it was gorgeous. Thanks to the wizardry of his software program, I hardly recognized myself.

I stared at the flawless, unwrinkled skin, and the eyes without any hint of dark circles-and then I gave it back to him.

Show me the ones where I look my best that are closest to what I really look like now, I asked him.

I would love to look like the portrait perfect picture-and perhaps I did, about ten years ago. But I found I couldn't leave myself behind. A little Photoshop to even out the complexion, perhaps-but not a wholesale retouch that makes me look like a female Dorian Grey.

I learned lots about how the world of fashion photography works this morning, and how much of what we see isn't even the approximation of reality. When I look at a picture, I want to be able to see myself-and to have others see a person who is capable of viewing reality without a blurred lens.

But I've kept one of the slightly Photoshopped ones for the columns-after all, a girl's got a right to look a tad glamorous now and then.

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