MOMENTS WITH NATALIE IMBRUGLIA
I dipped my hand into her bowl of crisps and introduced myself, “Hello, Natalie”.
We were in the Portland Square hotel shooting for The Sunday Times. And after being lost in the corridors, I had ungracefully barged into her room.
Her team replied unenthusiastically to this invasion and continued chatting together. Perhaps they thought I was a rude porter with clumsy crisp etiquette?
I returned to the shooting room. Hours passed.
When the two styling teams joined, they immediately started making decisions on how Natalie should be photographed.
I was time to take control. “So Natalie,” I said, “how about sticking that dress on and sitting over there?” Being an Aussie, she respected the forwardness, and appreciated direction after hours trying on outfits. She smiled.
At last, we shot the first polaroid. (Ah, lovely film.) We had been using the time for testing lights and one of the dresses matched the wall paint exactly. When combined it looked perfect, and Polaroid added a soft romantic appeal. A nice medium for winning hearts.
“Love it!” she said. “Let’s do it.”
And so the shoot progressed from elegant, to seductive on the bed, to rolling around the floor with overturned lamps. This was a fine way to spend an hour or two. The rest of the world disappeared.
My ungainly introduction was forgotten, and we finished with smiles and hugs.
My favourite shot of the day was the one above. Even though the room had Victorian wallpaper costing £400 ($600) a roll, we shot this behind the cupboard. Whatever looks best through the lens wins. But who looks at the background when you have such a perfect subject?