“So, tell me about Italy.” I sit in her makeup chair as she sets up her station.
Aspen is also the makeup artist I usually have on set, and we were both here early for the shoot. I’d already set up the cameras and the backdrop while she was setting out all the makeup she’d be using on the table in front of her. I knew she was a multitasker, so I sip my black coffee and listen as she talks.
“It was so amazing! We spent so much time exploring the city, experiencing the culture, and eating amazing food. It was so romantic.” She smiles. Aspen and River have been married for less than two years, but in that time they’ve moved in together and traveled all over.
“Did you see the Lizzie McGuire stage?” I tease.
“Of course! But it looks bigger in person.” She laughs.
“And River had fun, I assume?” River is Cari’s best friend, another reason why I didn’t want to say anything to Aspen about us. Not that I thought she couldn’t keep a secret, but I didn’t want to ask her to keep something from her wife.
“Oh yeah, we went swimming, and she ate everything. I think the worst part was the flight; she’s not the biggest fan of flying, but she’s slowly getting past it,” Aspen explains.
“Very nice.” I smile.
“OH! Did you get the invitation to our Halloween party?” She squeals, turning to face me.
“Yeah, are costumes really mandatory?” I wince. I couldn’t remember the last time I dressed up for Halloween, let alone celebrated it.
“Yes. Trust me, River is going to be at the door and turning away anyone who doesn’t have a costume.”
“No, she’s not.” I stare at Aspen.
“I might convince her otherwise, but she’s very serious about the costumes. She says it makes it more fun. Please say you’ll try to find something.” She pleads with her dark eyes.
“Fine, but I’m not promising it’s going to be something crazy. Can’t I just wear my normal clothes and go as a photographer?” I smirk hoping it’ll work but her face doesn’t budge.
“My wife will kick you out, and I have to say, if you show up in your normal clothes for your regular job, I’ll be agreeing with her.”
I sigh. “Fine. But I’m going to need extra candy provided if I’m expected to buy a whole costume.”
“If you think my wife isn’t going all out and buying literally every candy known to man, you do not know her well enough.” She laughs.
“Max?” a voice shouts, peeking open the studio doors.
“In here!” I call back. Slurping back the rest of my coffee, I toss the cup in the garbage as I jump up to meet the models.
I’ve been hired by a small bridal shop in the city to create some ads for their upcoming spring line. They want to bring in more customers and hope to do so by using a social media campaign.
Aspen and I have teamed up many times, and at this point, she’s here more often than not. It’s easier when she’s here, and she often understands the look I’m going for without me having to say much. She doesn’t get in the way when it comes to touch-ups, and she’s supportive as hell when my impostor syndrome kicks in.
There are only three models, but I had insisted on choosing them. They wanted to spend the money hiring Instagram ‘models’, but despite Cari being the one exception, Instagram ‘models’ are the worst.
They always insist on messing with my lighting, taking their own photos on a freaking iPhone. Like hello, I have the latest and greatest technology with my Canon EOS 5D Mark IV, but sure, let’s use a camera the size of a dime.
Plus, they often act like I am their servant while I am trying to do my job. And don’t get me started on how they treat Aspen, always insisting on doing their own makeup.
I’m sorry, I may know next to nothing about makeup, but no way does a three-minute TikTok tutorial know more than Aspen does. So, I insisted on saving their money and using unknown models who would also do the clothing justice.
The other thing I love about this company is that, while it mostly sells wedding dresses, it also has more masculine bridal wear. Suits, two-piece attires that aren’t only tuxedoes and things I can see my friends wearing.
“I set up an outfit in each of my stalls, if you can each find your name and get dressed. Then Aspen will do your makeup, and we can get started,” I explain.
I look around at the three models: Sara, who is tall and thin with striking features and light eyes, Maria, who is short with curves for days and dark hair, and Taylor, who is dark-skinned and average height, with more masculine features like myself. I hoped that with a diverse set of women, I’d be able to capture people’s attention online and make the designs sell.
They all head to the stalls in the back of the studio, curtains separating each other so the models can get dressed in private. I never understood why that wasn’t always accessible. I’ve watched enough seasons of America’s Next Top Model, and was horrified at how the models were treated. I always promised myself I’d make sure they felt just as comfortable as I was.
Maria is dressed first, and Aspen places a cape around her neck to protect the clothes from any makeup debris. Before Aspen, I’d always dressed the models after makeup, but it makes more sense to have her do it when they are already dressed.
