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  • Writer's pictureAmy Bass

Getting all gussied up

Updated: Oct 19, 2017

That unnerving moment when a stylist goes through your closet.

In the back of my head, I knew it had been a while since I'd had a book jacket worthy photograph taken of myself. My mother is a photographer -- a real one -- and she'd done me the honor of my previous ones. But this was different. I needed head shots for ONE GOAL. Good ones. And rather quickly, my editor's assistant said. I called upon photographer Rodney Bedsole, who reassured me he had time. Can you recommend a stylist, a makeup artist? I asked. Yes, he said, and gave me her information. She came to my house to pull some clothes. I someone who'd been writing a book 24/7 for months.

"Don't worry about your eyebrows," she assured me when she came in. "We'll take care of them."

"I wasn't...." I trailed off. An hour later, I had a stack of clothes to bring to the shoot, a stack of clothes to burn, and a vow to never wear a certain style dress ever again. Being poked and prodded and angled and lit for several hours was not as fun as I had imagined. But Rodney's husband brought me tea and ice water and snacks throughout the day, Rodney took interest and care with the looks I asked him for, and I got through it with some photos that I don't hate. Which is as close to loving photos of myself as I'm ever going to get.

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