I struggled so hard naming my boudoir company, and thank you so much for your input. Kinky Peach was a strong contender for a while, and I hope someone uses it for something, but as it turned out, all of the naughty, sexy, cheeky words felt wrong.
I’m calling it Honest Boudoir. The name has less sizzle and kick than the other ideas, but speaks to the message I’m trying to send. It’s not airbrushed, or judgmental. You can show up with hairy armpits, or chubby thighs, or dressed as a boy – or actually be a boy. You can be a couple, too, or gay, a person of color, or a “masculine of center” woman, or covered in tattoos. You can be nine months pregnant, six weeks postpartum, or fifty years old, and there will be room for you to be whatever “sexy” looks like to you.
As I said, right now, it’s strictly an art project. I’m not taking any money for portraits, and I’m going to fit it in with my regular work schedule.
My goal is to shoot on location in people’s existing spaces, both to save money and because I like the idea of doing a boudoir session in your own space or fun hotel room you’ve picked out instead of a studio.
I’m obviously usually in New York, but I’m traveling to Europe a bit at the end of next month. I’m also going to go to Milwaukee, WI as soon as it gets warm, and I’ll likely be in LA soon, as well as San Francisco at some point sooner or later; they can’t keep me out of that town for long. In the meantime, if you have friends in London, Berlin or Paris that would like to take photos with me, send them to my website and ask them to get in touch. My dates are:
London from 28 – 31 March
Berlin from 1 – 4 April
Paris from 4 – 8 April
As told in a bar, recently.
“So I was texting with the guy in my phone who was ‘Chris F.’, and it was getting kind of flirty, and then he invited me over. This was going to be my first official ‘booty call’, and I was excited. I got dressed and knocked on his door, and it turned out ‘Chris F.’ was NOT who I pictured. I thought I was talking to ‘Chris S.’”
“What did you do?” asked Emily, eyes wide.
I shrugged. “I fucked him!”
from Nicki Fietzer in Manhattan
from Erica Rose in Anchorage, Alaska
from Lauren McGlynn in Edinburgh, Scotland
I started a cool photography project with some other female photographers. We all live in the Western Hemisphere, stretching from Anchorage, Alaska in the US to Edinburgh, Scotland, so we call it Western Light. Every week, each of us contributes an image from where we are at the time (it’s on a tiny bit of delay for blogging purposes). I love seeing what everyone comes up with every week. It makes me feel connected with some of my smart, talented girlfriends spread around the world.
“Like” us on Facebook here.
I spent the back half of last week in Rinòcn, Puerto Rico, where I photographed a wedding on Saturday. It was the first in my “no travel fees” destination wedding photography special I’m running in 2014 and it was AWESOME. I stayed in a cheap motel by the beach that was within walking distance of the private residence the couple had booked, so my “commute” was wandering up the sand for about 500 yards. I shot their wedding barefoot.
It was magic. The weather was flawless every day, the people were amazing, and the views… oh my goodness. Puerto Rico is shaped like a rectangle with a “nose” pointing out of the west side. Rincòn is right on the tip of that nose and is mountainous, so when you go up into the hills, you can see the sea in a 270 degree view, and because it’s on the west, the sunsets are glorious. Plus, there were pelicans, and watching them fish in the evening was exciting.
It feels lucky and amazing to call this my job. If you’ve been reading for a while, you know my background is that I come from a blue-collar family that discouraged dreaming big. My parents told me at one point that I should be a postal worker, and when I pointed out how boring I would find that, they said, “Who cares? You’ll always have a job.” So to travel by plane, even just three hours away, and photograph someone’s wedding on a beach is so huge for me.
Go dream big, friends.
Boudoir photography been brewing in the back of my brain for years; aside from an occasional toe-dip into it, it’s never taken off. Then, when I realized that there was a GLARING hole in the industry that was missing guys, masculine of center gals, larger girls, women of color, tattooed girls, boys in lipstick, couples – basically, anyone who isn’t female, thin, and white – I needed to get to work.
Naming a boudoir company is hard, though. The working title is Gentle Sting but I started to hate it, and now no friend can come over without being sucked into a brainstorming session (at least I keep wine in the house.) The above photo is of notes stuck to the door in my living room from about a week of fussing.
It needs to be naughty but not dirty, subversive without being obscure, and, most important (and most difficult): sexy but not feminine or masculine.
February has proven to be a little easier than January was. I’m escaping the cold this week to shoot a wedding in Puerto Rico, and I’m going early, partially because flights were cheaper on Wednesday than Friday, but also, I want to take a few days and bask in the ability to stand outside without the air hurting my face.
Old Navy had these super cute, fitted sweatpants that I bought a few pairs of, and putting them on instead of staying in my PJs all day if I’m working from home makes a HUGE difference. Instead of slobby, I feel comfy, dressed, and put-together if someone comes to the door. I got rid of my too-small boots that worked last year because I only wore them a few times, and bought a comically gigantic pair of mens snow boots. They fit, but are the exact opposite of sexy. I can go charging through slush and murk in them like it ain’t no thang, though, and between them and my coat, walking miles in below freezing weather is no problem, so they’re making me happy. (I now look like a penguin with enormous stompy feet.)
In other words: I’m managing.
How you guys doing? Any better than January?
A few months ago, Robyn Devine offered to crochet me a hat as part of her She Makes Hats project. Her master plan is to make 10,000 of them, which is incredible. Mine is the Shanti hat which is super cute, nice and roomy to accomidate my hair, and has kept the Polar Vortex off of me with aplomb. There’s a few of this style in the She Makes Hats shop, and more coming in the fall.
For every hat Robyn sells, a hat gets donated to a newborn in need, which makes me happy.
Thank you, Robyn – you’ve made my winter so much nicer.
photo from Dough
I grew up a doughnut fan. My grandfather favored the Doughnut Inn, a southern Connecticut chain of three stores with phenomenal coffee and a yellow and brown logo, unchanged since 1977, that makes my heart quiver with nostalgia. It was coffee for him and a doughnut for me – glazed. My parents always favored Dunkin’ Donuts, the national brand that was New England-only when I was a kid, and we would sometimes get doughnuts there after church. And, of course, there were apple cider doughnuts every time we got pumpkins in the fall.
They are having a revival of sorts, and I’m pretty excited about this. One of my New Years resolutions was to eat more high quality doughnuts, so Lara sent me this fun slide show of amazing doughnuts from around the United States, and there are three places here in New York that I’m going to try (Voodoo Doughnut in Portland has been on my Life List forever). My friends are awesomely supportive.
I’m going on a doughnut tour all year. (I also found this list of the 10 best doughnuts in New York City that I’m going to pull from.) If you follow me on Twitter, I’ll post where I’m going and when (it will likely be a Saturday or a Sunday morning), should you want to join me for some deep-fried, sugar-glazed awesomeness.
This is going to be fun.
In 2013, determined to “get out there”, I went on exactly 30 first dates. I didn’t set out to go on this many; it just sort of happened as I stumbled across interesting men while browsing the online dating site OKCupid. Most dates just consisted of coffee or a glass of wine and then parting ways forever, and the majority were unremarkable. A few produced friends, or lovers, or lovers that became friends. There are a handful of one-night stands, and one or two that were downright awful. These are the stories of some of them.
While walking to this date, a really cute guy got out of the subway and brushed past me.
“MMMm-hmmm!” I thought, checking out his butt. He looked vaguely familiar, and then I got excited. I dialed the number for “David”, my blind date of the evening, who I had only seen in his OKCupid photos. The guy with the cute butt ahead of me reached for his phone.
“Are you walking RIGHT in front of me?” I asked, and David turned around laughing. Score.
It was an amazing date; he was as smart and funny as he was cute. We walked the rest of the way to the bar together and chatted easily, and after two beers I was done drinking but didn’t want to leave, so we had impromptu dinner (I never plan dinner on a first date). I walked him home, and at his front door he gave me “the look”, and I knew, and then we kissed. And…
The kiss was awful.
“It couldn’t have been that bad,” said my girlfriend when we were rehashing. “I mean, you liked him.”
“Think of a Labrador retriever encountering a steak.” I said, and shuddered at the memory.
I figured, though, that amazing first dates are hard to come by, so I would see if I couldn’t offer a few words of encouragement for next time, except next time never happened. Maybe *I’m* the bad kisser, but he never called again, and didn’t answer my text. He checked my profile a few weeks later, and I saw he was now listed as living in California, which… why are you dating if you know you’re moving? I dunno. This City is weird. As one person I went on a date with put it, “The odds are good, but the goods are odd.”
On Tuesday, Brooklyn got hit with about 14 inches of the fluffiest snow I’ve ever seen. Matty is in heaven. He kept asking to be let out into our tiny back yard to he could frolic and plow his face into it. His basset hound legs make him REALLY low to the ground, so the snow went up to his chin, which I think made the challenge of walking around in the stuff even more fun for him.
What a fantastic weirdo. I love him so much.