While at school, we got a ton of assignments where we had to photograph people. A lot of the time, especially in lower division, students would ask each other to pose. For a variety of reasons this made sense: fellow students worked cheap, they were always at school and could be snatched out of the hallway, after you posed for their shots they owed you, and it was always more fun to work with your friends.
For one reason or another I got asked quite a bit to pose. Ego would have me believe it was because I’ve always belonged on the cover of GQ, but I’m pretty sure that it was because of my hair. At the time it was down to my waist and depending on the duration of time between brushings, almost full-blown dread. When let loose from the pony-tail I kept it in I swear it had a mind, and personality, of its own. And so, enter Leslie Stansfield.
Leslie was an adorable southern-belle, complete with accent. Cute as all get out, and one of the sweetest beings the lord put on this earth. So when she asked me to pose for a shot she had in mind, I of course jumped at the chance. Little did I know that I’d be doing a lot of jumping, because even though the hair could carry on a conversation, for it to really express itself, I had to be moving. So Leslie set up her shot and had me jump, and jump, and jump. The pictures of me from this session remain some of my very favorites, and just looking at them again for this post brings back a lot of memories, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll grow it all back.
