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La Sirena

Yesterday morning, Katrina and I woke up at 5am and drove to Coney Island for a Saraghina-inspired photoshoot. Leaving the car, we began to attract stares from everybody we walked by. I was carrying about five different bags and had a camera around my neck. Katrina was pulling a huge suitcase, she was dressed in booty shorts and a midriff-exposing shirt, her hair was tousled every which way, and she had caked on enough makeup to clog every pore in New York. "I look like a prostitute," she laughed as we walked past elderly morning joggers. "Seriously, if I saw me walking down the street, I would be like, 'that's a hooker!'"

We arrived at the beach, unpacked our bags, and started shooting. All-in-all, we had four different looks, each suited pretty well to the whole rundown carny aesthetic of Coney Island. For the last look, we ventured out onto the street and were lucky enough to find an old man who let us use his AWESOME car as a prop in our shoot. On the street, Katrina garnered even more attention now that it was about ten in the morning and shops were beginning to open.

While we were shooting, a man kept coming up to us and interrogating Katrina. "Are you a model?" He asked. "I've got this show down here and we need some beautiful girls. You could make a lot of money. What's your modeling agency?"

The man didn't seem like he was going to let us go without an answer. There was a moment of silence and I looked at Katrina, smirked, and said, "Um... Elite."

"Yeah," Katrina said, "Elite Model Management."

"Great," the man said. "Can I have your name, so I can ask for you when I call your agency?"

"Yeah...." Katrina said hesitantly. "I'm Jennifer..... Smith."

The man did not catch onto any of our blatant lies and thanked us heartily before walking off. We thought he was long gone until he came back and asked me if I wanted to come back to his building to shoot with some "really nice, expensive backdrops" that he had. I told him that we were actually just wrapping up our shoot, but thanks anyway.

By the end of the shoot, it was about eighty billion degrees and Katrina and I were both sweaty and sunburned. Katrina put on some clothes and we got back in her car and went out to breakfast.

July 1, 2009 at 08:06 AM

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