Today I made a royal arse of myself but first things first.
It was supposed to be a fun day. We had a photo shoot set up for our upcoming SURPRISE benefit exhibition in Quito. I had to work late last night. To make sure I didn’t mess it up, aside from the alarm, I enlisted international “wake-up services” from Houston and Athens (thanks guys!). I woke up cranky and looking like sh*t but consoled myself with the pampering prospect of a hairdresser’s appointment at Sensitiva Peluqueria & Spa (they don’t have a website but they have great package deals). That done, mood slightly improved, I headed for my meeting. I was happy about the event. Cosas and Casas (our official SURPRISE media sponsors) are Ecuador’s leading magazines and I am delighted they support our project. We were meeting with the rest of the team -all of Quito’s top art dealers- for the group photo-session. Everyone was on time, looking sharp and fabulous and in an excellent mood. I was still a little cranky but didn’t make much of it. We started getting on with things.
As the session proceeded paranoia started hitting: the photographer was not paying enough attention to me. She was not fixing my hair or adjusting my pose enough and overall didn’t seem to be much bothered with my existence. Knowing myself, I had preemptively made a mental note to NOT go creating trouble where none is necessary. I half-jokingly (though anything but) threw an attention-demanding comment that went largely ignored. I was getting progressively more agitated. When asked to take the back seat for the session’s final shot, I threw the tantrum. My (misguided) dismay couldn’t be contained: I snapped, babbling undignified ramblings of the “this is not happening” type. The photographer (instead of telling me to f*ck off) calmly acknowledged my lunatic fit and placed me in the front. Everyone was a total sport and made nothing of it. In a ridiculous spin, it transpired that the back spot was the coolest place on offer. Which led to the even more pathetic state of now being mad because I wanted to be at the back, and overall feeling like a 5 year old.
The crisis culminated in yet another ludicrous fit (thankfully of the one-on-one variety), by now fully acknowledging the absurdity of the situation and doubly annoyed at myself for being upset nonetheless. I left the photo shoot feeling a wreck. It was a beautiful day outside, the sun was dazzling and warm. I had coffee at a picturesque cafe, thinking of the incident. It was nothing major but it was major stupid. The kind of stupid I want to leave behind. I thought I already had. Clearly there is still a bit of distance to cover.
P.S.: I am laughing about it now, thinking it will only suit me well if in the final photos I end up looking sulky and, possibly, fat.