“I’ve just learned they’re letting us into the barn if we want—how would you feel about riding a horse on the trail?”
There was a time when I would have deferred to the photographer’s suggestions, insisted I was up for anything—nudity, overtime, dangerous pictures on the side of a cliff, anything to get the job and be seen as an easy model to work with. But now I’m a lot less desperate to please.
“I’m definitely game to explore the trails, but to be honest, I’ve never ridden a horse, and my first time isn’t going to be up a snowy mountain pass.” I laugh a little, and the others join in. “But other than that, I’m down for whatever. Let’s do this!”
Luka and I head up to our room to grab a few things and then meet back up with Remi, Malia, and the small makeup and wardrobe team.
As we head out to a pair of waiting SUVs, Remi continues throwing out pitches for the shoot. How do I feel about nudity or lingerie beneath my outerwear? Am I comfortable wading into the pond at the farm? Climbing a tree strung with lights? Remi and I brainstorm back and forth, and I set clear boundaries. To my total gratification, no one gives any pushback.
What about lying on the snow? Holding a newborn lamb?
That last one floors me, so I look to Luka, wondering what I’m about to get into.
Remi goes on, “Nothing says ‘fantasy’ more than a woman draped in diamonds with a lamb in her arms,non?”
“As long as I’m not in my underwear for that part,” I say.
Luka and I can’t help but laugh.
Malia pulls out her phone to call the wardrobe team in the other SUV. “We’re going to start with the gown and the long coat,” she says by way of greeting. “And Brooklyn is okay with lingerie, but it’s still a maybe depending on Remi’s vision. Keep it on standby, just in case.”
We arrive on location at the farm, and it’s breathtaking. Mountains surround us, the air is crisp with the smell of pine needles and fresh earth, and the lake stretches out as far as the eye can see. Though it was a balmy seventy degrees today, it’s much colder at this altitude, and the temperature continues to drop as nighttime approaches. With drifts of snow higher up the mountainside, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting a “winter” vibe in these surroundings. There’s a weathered dock reaching out over the blue water, where canoes are tied up waiting for us. Near the barn I see two trailers set up, one for wardrobe and makeup, and the other for Remi.
First things first, I head off to get primped. The stylist, Becca, twists my hair into a complicated braided masterpiece like I’m a Viking warrior. Then the makeup artist takes his turn on me, applying heavy black liner and silver eyeshadow, my false lashes long and thick.
After I slip into the beaded, Roaring-20s-type gown, I look in the mirror and grin. I really do look like some kind of fantasy snow queen.
When I step out of the trailer, my husband looks at me and does a double take. He raises one brow, once again doing his best to hold back an amused grin.
“I like the hair.” He winks.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I just…like the hair. Are you supposed to be a snow elf or something?”
I pretend to slap him, but he darts out of the way. The stylist returns with the finishing touches—an elaborate bib necklace that resembles a spider’s web strung with brilliant diamond droplets, some delicate stacking rings for my fingers, and a pair of earrings in gleaming platinum, fronted by flower-shaped clusters of more diamonds.
Once I’m fully decorated, Becca holds up a hand mirror so I can admire the jewels. I’m amazed at how well they pull this otherworldly look together.
“Now those, I like,” Luka says, tracing my earlobe gently and making me shiver.
“Me, too,” I say, turning my head this way and that to make the earrings sparkle.
The stylist grins. “I have a feeling these are going to be the star of the entire collection. They go with everything, the design is timeless, and they’re comfortable enough to wear every day.” She lowers her voice as if telling a secret. “They’re seventy-five hundred a pair!”
“I’ll be very careful with them,” I say solemnly.
Remi has me go for the canoe right out of the gate, since we want to take advantage of the sunset. The shore is a little rocky, which is tough to navigate even in my oversized, clunky boots, but I manage to get myself arranged in the narrow boat that’s tied to the dock. Even as I’m posing, all I can think is: this place is so beautiful, the water beneath me so blue. It’s paradise.
“Love it, love it, love it,” Remi says. He’s in waders that come up to his knees so he can get as close to the canoe as possible with the camera, and I just know he’s getting great shots.
The temperature drops as the sun makes its final descent. Of course, that’s when it’s time to lie in the snow with my coat wide open. My bib necklace gets traded out for a variety of chunky chains, and Becca works my braids loose so my hair cascades in tousled waves over the icy ground. I try not to shiver and focus on exuding an aura of dreaminess, but when the wind blows, the faux fur on my hood gets stuck to my lip gloss. More than once, I spy Luka holding back a chuckle at my expense. Honestly, so am I.
It’s good to see him enjoying this instead of feeling as if he needs to direct my every movement. This shoot isfun. Remi and Malia are fun, too, and had Luka micromanaged everything, I don’t think we’d have achieved the same level of carefree “winging it” that we have. I just hope Steffany & Co. are happy with the results.
Finally, we head back over to the rustic old barn for a few shots with the baby lamb, flashy armloads of bracelets added to my wrists. The lamb is soft and warm and ridiculously cute—and as wiggly as can be as he bleats in my arms. At one point, he tries to eat the fake fur on the hood of my coat. I scold him with a helpless laugh, the camera flashing rapidly nearby.
“That’s it!” Remi exclaims. “That’s the one! I guarantee you’re going to see this exact shot on every Steffany & Co. billboard and magazine advertisement this holiday season.”