I didn’t mean to have my hair in a ponytail, but it’s the one I like best. By a long shot. He asked if I had an elastic almost like an afterthought and said, “Pull your hair up for ‘Soccer Mom,’ and we’ll do a couple more.”
“Oh good,” I thought, “we’re done,” having no expectation of a haphazard up-do for my headshot. I guess that’s what it takes. Convince yourself it doesn’t matter, and get the pic. Photoshoots are, for me, as bad as auditioning. Worse, maybe. Auditions are over in 30 seconds. Photoshoots take hours! With that lens, always that lens finding every flaw.
This was among the last ten, I’d say. I think it took all that time to bloody relax.
(P.S. Shaun was great to work with, I have to say. This was the least painful photoshoot I’ve ever done. In fact, there were several other shots that were flattering, expressive, interesting, and/or evocative. The truth is, my hair was ghastly! Blerg. I cut off 3-plus inches a week later, which won’t affect the relevance of my headshot, as the ponytail looks relatively the same. I’ve been resisting/pretending, but I acquiesce: I don’t get to have long hair anymore. Mid-length at midlife for this old broad! That sad truth aside, Shaun gave great tips on how to beat the nerves, and helped me understand angles, mood, even the market, what’s current. He knows his shit. It was… fun. Almost.)