I’m getting more than a little fed up of models who try to conceal the fact that they have tattoos. My castings clearly state I’m seeking models without large tattoos but I end up having to go through the applicants’ profiles with a fine-tooth comb because they don’t bother to tick the I have tattoos box and their portfolio photos are shot or edited in such a way to hide the evidence. Let the buyer beware is my new motto.
While rummaging through one of my backup hard drives I found these 2 contrasting models. In the old days I did an occasional movie shoot for other people of up-and-coming porn starlets. Before the action started I liked to take a few snaps with a compact camera for my own collection. The first set are just that, albeit rather poor snaps. The second set are from a housewife photo shoot, as I have indicated in the past, not one of my favourite subjects. Although the talent is completely different there is a common thread to both these sessions. The performances weren’t for me, I was just operating the camera.
What the fuck is that all about. I get an uncontrollable urge to laugh whenever a photographer or model use the phrase. Does your house have a boudoir? Do you know anyone who lives in a house with a boudoir? Very unlikely. Let’s just cut through the arty-farty bullshit and call it what it really is. Wishy-washy soft porn.
Okay not quite a city but summer in Rugby, yet again. The holiday season is as good as over and once more I’ve been nowhere other than a handful of day trips. That’s been the story of my life except for when girlfriends have dragged me kicking and screaming further afield. As a child I never had a holiday, we couldn’t afford it, so this reluctance to venture forth into the big wide yonder is deeply ingrained. My idea of a holiday is being stuck inside the Chateau de Vaughan taking snaps of a gorgeous glamour model. C’est la vie.