How Not To Conduct a Photo Shoot, Part 1

The thing is, when you're pressed for time and don't have a pool of models on hand (and I mean "a group of." There's no empty swimming pool where models stand around waiting to be summoned for bag-holding), you kind of have to rely on what's just lying around. Nine times out of ten, that's either Elisabeth or me. Frankly, sometimes we're not even up for it, depending on how many miles we were too tired to run that week, or the amount of cheese and crackers we ate the day before. But on good days we end up putting our big girl pants on and taking one for the team, because deadlines. 

Now I can tell you from my .005 years' experience (a generous estimation) that if you invite some friends over for wine and cheese and crackers and margaritas and tacos and charcuterie boards and grapes and salami and basil pesto and chips and salsa and beer and giggling and such, you can work an impromptu photo shoot into the mix. They might not know it's even happening unless your fake-laughing for the camera becomes a little extra. In my case it's typically in the first 6-7 minutes, but that's neither here nor there.

This one particular time that I would love to tell you about right this very second, Elisabeth invited a few friends over for wine and cheese and crackers and margaritas and tacos and charcuterie boards and grapes and salami and basil pesto and chips and salsa and beer and giggling and such. Only after that did she realize that we could take the opportunity to experiment with a few fancy cameras that she had stumbled across the week before - it doesn't matter how - and sweet talk our girls into participating. 

They were very polite and indulged us, like good friends do after being served plenty of wine and cheese and crackers and margaritas and tacos and charcuterie boards and grapes and salami and basil pesto and chips and salsa and beer and giggling and such. We decided that to capture real, authentic lifestyle photos was to do what Elisabeth and I would normally do in our own, you know, lifestyle. What does that mean, exactly?

Ommmm, find a trampoline and jump on it. With a bag. Duh.


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