Our conversation lasted about two hours and we left the meeting with a number of great ideas. But even better than the meeting itself was that over the course of the last year,  we have actually executed many of the photos we first discussed, culminating with the photography for Electrocomponent’s 2010 Annual Report.Electro Component’s 2010 Annual Report

For those of you not in the business of international distribution of electronics or electrical components, they are one of the world’s largest distributors of electronic products. They handle thousands of manufacturers, millions of products and have offices in twenty-seven countries. They started out selling radio parts during WWII at Elephant & Castle and grew to become this massive international player.

Working with Electrocomponents for the last year has been really cool, particularly since the work has been quite varied. Starting with some cool executive portraits, we then moved onto capturing their first ever investor’s forum in London. Getting the chance to create the cover for their annual report was really a lot of fun though. Upon getting to their offices just outside of Oxford, they presented me and my assistant Marek with one of their delivery vans. For the next eight hours, we got to shoot the van. It was great. Marek drove the van up and down the drive while we captured both a day and a night version of the speeding van. I’d never photographed a moving van like this before, so it was a bit like being back in photo school. A little trial, a little error, and then success.

By the second day of our trip, Marek and I felt quite at home with the Electrocomponents gang. They took us up to their UK distribution center in Nuneaton. It was a massive facility that reminded me of the Boeing factory in Everett, Wash.  When we got there, they gave us some heavy boots to wear. Marek was got a pair of Red Wing boots, as I grew up in the same county these boots were from in Minnesota, I knew it was going to be a great day.

Our mission was to capture the massive facility in a way that supported the overall brand. Yes, shots of the interior and the whole process were important, but creating a visual link between what was happening in the warehouse and its positive impact on the customer experience was paramount. Everything neatly found its way back to that first conversation–the importance of a strong image on brand identity.

Electrocomponents was hands on through the whole process. They understood that each resulting image was part of the brand identity and  by entrusting my team to deliver all of the images, they could ensure they had a consistent consistent set of photographs that were stylistically in keeping with each other.

I met the florist company By Appointment Only Design (BAO) at the Terrence Higgins Trust auction earlier this year. They had provided all of the flowers for the event, which were fantastic. The proprietors, Javier and Tony, and I began chatting shortly after a very drunk woman bumped into one of the floral pillars knocking the massive arrangement onto the floor. I’d witnessed the event, but Javier and Tony had missed it. Upon inspection, they found that only two of the stems were damaged, the rest were miraculously well in tact. We shared a drink and decided to meet up after the event.

Since starting my photography business, florists have been some of my favorite clients. In Seattle I had the pleasure of working with the brilliant team at City Flowers. I shot store set ups, products, floral arrangements, installations and more. City Flowers creative team was led by the largely deranged (and I say that in the most loving way possible), Jonathan von Gieseke. Jonathan and I have known each other for years, and when the opportunity to work together presented itself, we both jumped at the opportunity.

Probably my favorite shot done with City Flowers was their Halloween promotion. The City Flowers team sorted out all the props, the location, the wardrobe, the jewelry and even the chihuahua. We shot on the steps of St. Mark’s Cathedral on Capital Hill as the sun was setting. I stood on the hood of my car and lit it with two giant soft boxes, a few reflectors and a couple of grid lights. It was quite a production and I was incredibly lucky that Lee was with me to ensure everything went to plan.

Stepping into BAO’s shop in Marylebone, I was instantly reminded of the creative spirit I had found with the Seattle gang. They had magnificent arrangements, tasteful products and great music softly playing. They offered me a Nespresso and we sat and chatted in their meeting room alcove in the basement.

While reviewing my portfolio, BAO commented they wanted to deviate from the standard adverts found in bridal magazines, and have one that had a fashion sense, was sexy and at the same time didn’t feature a bride. We decided to photograph a handsome man holding lavish bridal bouquets and wearing color-coordinated jumpers (sweaters to you Americans). Lure  budding brides to visit the BOA shop with the fantasy of a handsome prince.

It’s funny where you can find these princes. I spent years kissing frogs until I found mine in a bar in south London, but for BOA, but it was in the frame of a party snap I took. I hadn’t actually seen him at the party, but when I got home and was processing the final images, I couldn’t help but notice the stunning face in the crowd. I emailed my friend Neil, the event organizer, and he quickly got us in touch. That is how we landed  the BAO cover boy Federico.

I did a few test shots before the actual day, but it was one of those Eureka! moments that I typically get around 2:50 in the morning while lying in bed awake, that I decided the background shouldn’t be a plain color, but rather a damask made from the bouquets themselves. When dawn came, I dashed a mock-up to Javier  and Tony and we were off.

The shoot itself went all to plan. We shot the model on a plain white background. He was styled and primped throughout the day. Wardrobe change, bouquet adjustment, music changes and even some great lunch. The entire team was on the ball. I explained to the team what we were doing and got a couple of blank stares, but then showed my mock-up and started getting them on board. Javier and Tony, however, were already with me. They could see the same vision and we were on our way.

To create the background for each of the shots, I photographed each bouquet individually. This was placed as the background layer in Photoshop, and then I cut out the final photo of Federico and layered that on top. Finding the right balance between showing the background as flowers and color was a balancing act, largely accomplished by trial and error. The post production work on the shots was both fun and fulfilling, but definitely time consuming.

The resulting images delighted the client and Bride’s magazine. It also gave me a wonderful series of cool and beautiful shots. I’ll be sure to keep you posted on when it runs.

At the beginning of 2009, the two words on everyone’s lips here in the UK were “Credit Crunch.” You couldn’t swing a cat without hearing them. I think that the US simply called it a recession, but the Brits love their alliteration, so credit crunch it was. Yes, the financial crisis was systematically far more serious than a simple crunch, but why call something by a much more mundane name when credit crunch rolls off the tongue so much easier. It’s a bit like calling sodas fizzy drinks or calling a ski mask a balaclava, if Brits can find a fancier way of saying something, then they will. Mind you, they did invent the language, so I suppose we should leave it at that.

The credit crunch was for me a time for a bit of reflection, but mostly one of action. My magazine work dropped significantly, companies were reluctant to invest into marketing, and even private clients tightened their purse strings. To lift a phrase from the Queen herself, 2009 turned out to be an Annus Horribilis with regard to photography work. Marketing my business became my full-time job. Networking, emailing, phone calling, blogging, twittering and more networking became my standard operating procedure. At one point, I realized that I had actually become a professional networker and had lost sight of my real business, taking pictures. Still, I continued pressing forward with another meeting and a new twitter post, all the while anticipating the next gig.

During the last week of photography school at SCCC, our instructors sat our class down and imparted their advice. “Give yourself five years” one said. “You’re only as good as your last shot,” said another. The words of my instructor Robbie Milne, however, left the biggest impression on me, “Just Shoot.” When times are tough, pick up the camera, and shoot something, anything. Two simple words that I couldn’t even begin to comprehend at that time. Upon leaving school, work began coming in. Times were good. Even when Lee and I moved to London in 2006, work came. But then came the credit crunch. Commissioned work became limited at best. Marketing and meetings got me the right connections, but there was something missing. Then one morning at 3:45 am (or thereabouts), Robbie’s voice chirped up inside my head, “Just Shoot.” Aha! I thought. But what?

One of the first struggles I had to overcome when I left university was my perfectionism. I was obsessed with trying to achieve perfection, and became paralyzed by my fear of imperfection. My paralysis became apparent when I was working as an intern at a weekly commuter newspapers in Minneapolis. I’d been given the assignment to write a profile about a comedic actor in a local show. I interviewed him, wrote the article, and then sat on it. In retrospect, the article was less than insignificant. It was not a life or death article, it was a profile of a comedic actor in Minnesota; most likely a highly-disposable fluff article that would end up with a coffee ring and a hand-drawn mustache. At the time, however, my fear of imperfection and the significance I placed on the article itself was insurmountable. I’d never written an article for a newspaper before. This would be my first published piece. What if it looked bad? Would people laugh at it? Was I out of my league? Still, I was overcome by my fear of imperfection and continued sitting on the article for a few more weeks.

About a week before I was due to move to Seattle from Minnesota, I got a call from the editor. He was kind but firm, the actor’s play was opening in a week and the article needed to run the following Tuesday. I read through it once more, popped the floppy disk in the post (long before email). A couple of weeks later while living in Seattle, I got a package from the editor. It was a copy of the article, and it looked pretty good and provided me with a tactile reminder that life doesn’t just happen, but you have to make it happen. This was the first real-life lesson I had in “Just Shoot,” and I had been lucky to have had such an understanding editor.

When I moved into the business world, I took the lesson from my internship and ran with it. I learned quickly that the people who asked just enough questions and then took decisive action were the ones who got the most done. In an entrepreneurial environment, perfection doesn’t exist, and perfectionism can’t be tolerated. Yes, a team needs to work together to produce the best in its class, but in a fast-paced environment, waiting for perfection means imminent death. Sometimes a company just needs to act, and make improvements in the dot release. In the software world, it became known as “Just Ship!”

Photography is no different. “Just Shoot” has become my mantra. If times have been slow and the phone hasn’t been ringing, it starts the moment I click the shutter. It’s as if there is some cosmic energy out there that never fails. Mark meet camera, camera meet Mark. Go! Just shooting is the perfect way to unleash latent photographic potential and transform it into reality. It never fails. The results of just shooting have varied over the years, but each time I learn something new. Whether it is testing out a new lighting set up, working with a different type of film, or simply exorcising visions from my brain. It gives me the opportunity to create and also define the next steps I will take.

Payback for just shooting is not necessarily immediate. Yes, the phone starts to ring and work comes in, but the intent of just shooting is to create a lasting image, and one that hopefully inspires people to want more. Lee and I worked incredibly hard on the Howdy Partner shoot. We cast multiple models, bought wardrobe, built an elaborate set and spent a full day in the studio shooting. Afterwards, not a single one image was licensed. The resulting images ended up first on my web site and then quietly made their way to my hard drive. Then one day, I showed I showed one of the shots to a prospective client. She was sold. That was what she wanted, only different. All of the work that I’d done before had more than paid off. Together she and I created some lovely pieces to promote her business.

So back to Tooting, London, 3:45 am, early 2010. I needed to just shoot. A year ago I met the actor Charlie Condou at the Terrence Higgins Trust auction. I’d liked his work in Gimme Gimme Gimme and we got chatting. I asked him if he’d pose for me and to my surprise, he said yes. The scene needed to be set. When Lee and I moved to Tooting a few months back, we started visiting a local place just a few minutes from our house called The Tram Shed. It is one of my favorite places in London. The interior is very cool, hip–but not over the top. Just a good place to hang out pretty much any night of the week. When I first walked in, I knew it was a place that I wanted to do a shoot in. I also have a penchant for feather dusters (If I can’t wear a boa in public, at least let me have a feather duster!) I found an amazing lime green one on a trip to Canada. It was a perfect fit: handsome Charlie with a vibrant feather duster.

Charlie has a wonderful face, I wanted to photograph him ala Hurrell. Working with a single, undiffused light, I worked to emulate Hollywood glamour from the 1930s. His bone structure and his strong nose fared well with the contrasty lighting.

Working with just daylight, I also created this more casual, boy next door shot. Doing this shot pushed me in new directions. I’m not really a fashiony type guy, but I can appreciate great styling. For my limited Just Shoot budget, I got the opportunity to procure the wardrobe, photograph it, and then casually return the clothing afterwards. Um, er…I know that professional stylists do this all the time, it just pushed me right out of my comfort zone though. Nonetheless, it was all part of the learning process.

And what was the net result of this endeavor? Business is back on target. Work has picked up and I’ve even finished shooting one of the biggest projects to date. While I am sure I can market and promote myself until I am blue in the face, remembering the wise words of Robbie has re-charged my batteries. Here’s to 2010!

As with most of our constructive discussions, I listened with my usual patience and then dismissed the conversation shortly thereafter. I photograph people, not animals, and I prefer adults over children. The crux of her message, however, was neatly planted in my brain.

It’s not that I dislike animals, I am actually a big fan of furry critters. When I was a kid, we had a bunch of pets. At the top of the food chain were our cats and dogs. We also had a few incidental pets–the occasional hamster, countless goldfish and a collection of hermit crabs.

My favorite pet was Tinker, an all white cat. We got him when I was four, and he lived to be eighteen. Though we got him off of a farm, his pure white coat made him oh so uptown. Originally we named her Tinkerbell, but when we found out that she was  a he, we shortened his name to Tinker. I recall being slightly jarred at Tinkers seemingly casual gender reassignment, but my mom put my mind at ease, “He’ll never know.”

Although my siblings might have a different opinion on the matter, Tinker was effectively my cat. Sue had a silky terrier called Cherish. Tom got a dog named Nya. Heather had a dog called Bridget (aka Bird Shit), and Tinker and I just bonded. Though I do enjoy dogs, it was from very early on that I knew I was a cat person.
Our parents were pretty easy going about having pets around, though my Dad insisted that they sleep in our laundry room. He claimed that if they were allowed to sleep out and about in the house, they would poop everywhere. I found this hard to believe, as each pet was already house trained, so I would regularly defy my folks and sneak Tinker into my room to sleep by my side. My mom always knew what I’d been up to by the white cat hair left on my bedspread.

Though Tink’s white coat was beautiful, it was his Achilles heel. One snowy Minnesota winter, my neighbor accidentally hit him with their snowmobile. They hadn’t seen him because everything was white, and it wasn’t until later that they confessed what had happened. Tinker had his hind leg amputated and over the course of years became affectionately nicknamed Tripod. Until his death, Tinker maintained a phantom hind leg. This was demonstrated when you would scratch him behind his ear. His hind stump would spring into high gear and appear to be scratching away. At first it was really surreal for us, then it became sort of a parlor game, and then just part of life with Tinker.

Tinker tolerated our dogs. Bridget was a cross between a miniature poodle and a Chihuahua, a classic combination. She was slightly smaller than Tinker and was under Tinker’s rule. No matter how much we brushed her, Bridget’s fur became a matted mess. Frequently we’d find Bridget pinned to the ground with Tinker cleaning her fur (clear indication of the cleaner species…) Bridget was also quite noted for yapping at anything and everything, and she loved to dash between your feet to get out of the house. Once or twice a week we’d play the game of chase Bridget, and she always won. The week of my grandmother’s funeral, my cousin Jeff was staying with us, and Bridget got out on him. He ran block after block in his bare feet and boxer shorts trying to catch her. Finally, about a half-mile from our home, she stopped and let him pick her up. Out of breath and understandably irritated, he made his way back to our place with the dog under arm.
It wasn’t until after grandma’s funeral that we told him that we’d long since tired of chasing after Bridget, and if she did get out, either she’d return when she was ready, or the pound would call to let us know they had picked her up. Jeff despised Bridget from that moment forward. We always threatened to make a puzzle from a photo of Bridget and give it to Jeff, a true momento.

Nya was my brother’s dog. Tom bought her on the sly while we were on a family vacation “Up North” (Minnesotan vernacular for the part of Minnesota north of St. Cloud.) He smuggled her home by hiding her in his jacket. He managed to keep her hidden from my parents until we were well beyond the point of no return; then he revealed the hidden puppy. I wasn’t privy to the subsequent conversation between my parents and Tom, but the net result was another dog had been added to our clan.
Nya was a golden retriever-Irish setter mix, and was a real looker. Tom would take her out cruising in his 1968 suped-up Mustang as she was the perfect chick magnet, “what an adorable little puppy!” and then he’d score. I got to take Nya for walks, and regularly run with her.

Bridget and Nya got along well enough. They would run around together, but fortunately for us, Nya didn’t pick up Bridget’s bad habits. A big dog running wild was more than we could really handle. Tinker, on the other hand, couldn’t stand the ever-growing menace and would hiss at Nya at any opportunity. I once found a cat claw firmly embedded in Nya’s nose. I figured it hadn’t been a pretty match. Nya avoided Tinker from that point forward.

When I got my first SLR, I spent countless rolls of film photographing our pets. Tinker and Nya were my inspiration, Bridget not so much. Both Tinker and Nya were true posers. If you asked me, those two understood that I was capturing their beauty for posterity.
Though my sister Heather and I haven’t lived together for years, it’s highly likely the innumerable shots of our pets prompted her proposed career path.

Years later when I was in photography school, one of my instructors gave us the assignment to photograph a pet.  Our cat Oberon was naturally my first choice. Recalling how easy it had been with Tinker and Nya, I set out to photograph Obie with the same zeal. Oberon, however, was having none of it. He didn’t like the lights, he wanted to know what my lens was all about, and he ultimately lost patience after the second shutter click, and then just walked off the table and hid under the bed. The shoot was done. The next day in class we unveiled our results. I cringed as my cat “portrait”  compared to the many masterpieces  my classmates had created.  My instructor gently suggested that pets was not my bag. It was shortly after this debacle that Heather imparted her wisdom, and still stinging from my recent attempt, I readily declined.
I became haunted by a vision of an endless line of  Maltese puppies, each with pink ribbons in their hair parading through my studio and cuddling up in a miniature wicker basket. Hallmark anyone? No, pet photography would not be my bag.

Not long after photo school, one of my best (human) clients commissioned me to photograph his dog, a West Highland terrier. He wanted a white on white portrait of his dog that would be made into an acrylic print. I cringed inside, recalling my sister’s wisdom. As my client had been a really good guy to work with, and as we needed to make rent for the month, I convinced myself it sounded like a cool assignment and agreed to it.

We shot at Daylight Studio in Seattle, and truth be told, it was a lot of fun.  The key, I learned quite quickly, was to have a pet handler. No more one-on-one shoots with my ever obedient Tinker and Nya, this was the real world of commercial pet portraits and to maintain the attention of a spaniel, you had to have the right tricks up your sleeve. Squeakers, bones, water, food, treats and of course the occasional whistle can grip the attention of an animal for just long enough to get the desired shot. It’s sort of like photographing a very, very, busy businessman–if you don’t have it in two frames, forget it. His mind has turned to the next item on his agenda.

I met Laura Graham at my breakfast networking meeting in Mayfair. Laura owns a stationary and printing company called G.G. Print. Shortly after we first met, she approached me to photograph her dog, Mr. Darcy, a King Charles Spaniel. She wanted to use Mr. Darcy for her in-office signage, and also wanted a sweet  portrait of her and Mr. Darcy. Again, Heather’s comments ran through my head. This time, however, I was much better prepared. We were shooting at Laura’s place, so Mr. Darcy would be more at home. We agreed to the props and the squeaky toys beforehand, and once everything was set up, we popped Mr. Darcy into the frame.

We spent a couple of hours getting the right shots of Mr. Darcy.  He wasn’t happy on the table, but liked his basket. He was great on his own and with Laura, but when paper products were added, he must have felt a bit cheapened and began to squirm. A little kibble on the on a pantone card seemed to do the trick. Working quickly, with several finger clicks and squeaky toys, we secured the final shots.

Post-production on dogs is way better than humans, to be sure. Yes, you need to ensure their fur is all smooth and silky looking, but a dog will never complain about bags under his or her eyes and rarely, and I’ve never been asked to make a dog thinner.

It’s been a number of years since that conversation with my sister. Interestingly enough, at one of my portfolio reviews, a prospective client pointed out that I had a penchant for photographing dogs within my images. They pointed out three shots within my book that had dogs in them. I guess I can thank Heather for that.

When I asked for directions to the Peer entrance, the security guard sucked his teeth with a, “It looks like they’re closed, sir. All the lights are out.” He directed me to the entrance nonetheless and there was Regen’s editor, Adam Branson waiting in the cold. Within moments, up the path came a smiling man ushering us into the lobby. “It’s horribly cold out here, come in, come in,” said Lord Mawson.

We made our way through the security and then into the great rooms within. I’ve been in the Houses of Parliament before, but this was the first time in the House of Lords. It was spectacular. Really such an amazing place. The walls were shiny and gold with intricate glasswork and paintings making the fabric of the walls. The floor was an elegant red carpeting. OK…now here is my commentary about the Brits. What is it with carpeting EVERYWHERE? Yes, the room, for as majestic as it is, does have a very cozy feeling about it. I suppose that is intrinsically British. I really believe that carpeting in public places is a unique British thing. I’m not talking rugs here, you know wood floor with a large oriental on it, I’m talking wall-to-wall. For years now I’ve been convinced that Britain is the land of carpeting and coving, and seeing wall-to-wall in the House of Lords has only underscored my belief. I digress…

We made our way through the labyrinth into a small reception room off, just off where the Lords hang their coats (apparently). There was an automatic coffee machine (20 pence a cup). I spotted Adam for his and offered to buy Lord Mawson his, but he refunded me 15p. No expense scandal here! Typically I shoot the profile first and then duck out leaving the reporter to do his work. As we were seemingly alone in the House of Lords with no one to see me out, I stayed through the interview and listened and shot. It was really fantastic.

Andrew Mawson is Founder and President of the renowned Bromley by Bow Centre in east London and Co-founder and President of Community Action Network (CAN), a national charity supporting 850 social entrepreneurs across the UK. The topic they focused on during the interview was Mawson’s project of regenerating ONE street in east London. His principle behind it was quite simple: how can you regenerate a neighborhood if you cannot regenerate a street. Regeneration begins by working with the people of the street, bringing them together as a community to share the responsibility to regenerate the street. Government can impose infrastructure in hope of regenerating (build it they will come), but as people are already there, it’s critical they are part of the regeneration process.

What I enjoyed so much about the interview was how engaging Lord Mawson was. He has a vision and a strong idea of how change needs to happen. I’ve since found a quote from him, “Change is not about top down, and neither is it about bottom up. Actually it’s about inside out, about getting inside and finding out what’s going on under the trees.” Really a great shoot to finish off 2009.

This was my third shoot for Land Rover. Typically the shoots entail photographing a cool cause getting the keys to a new vehicle. The woman in the photo is Kathy Wilden of Biosphere Expeditions. Biosphere is an organization that runs excursions where the participants take part in conservation activities. They were having their year-end conference at Cambridge University and as part of it, got a vehicle in the process. Pretty cool.

Lee and I got up early on Saturday and made our way into Cambridge. The journey took a little over two hours and the roads were clear. We made it through east London in no time and after about an hour of in-town driving, were on the freeway heading north.

Though the fog was low as we drove through the countryside, when we hit Cambridge, the fog lifted and we were surrounded by a beautiful city.

I’d been to Cambridge a couple of times before, but just in and out of the train station. I was amazed at how picturesque the center is. After the main shot was done, Lee took off to search out our post-photography activity, that being Christmas shopping. It was fantastic mooching around the town. Only sad thing was while shopping was genuinely plentiful, it all seemed like it was the same slew of shops we have in London. There were a few local places that we stopped in. I found some American-style carmels (note: not caramels) and we pretty much finished off the pre-holiday madness in one full swoop.

After our exhausting adventure supporting the local economy through this terrible recession, we slinked back into the hall where the Biosphere people were continuing their session. (Our car was out back and it was the only way through). Armed with bags from an array of shops, we winked goodbye and were off. Oh yeah, Cambridge was really pretty and historical…

While it is a very cool opportunity to meet men and women who are doing interesting things to enrich the lives of the general public, as they are moving and shaking, they rarely have time to sit beyond four frames. Creating an interesting shot in a few mere minutes is my task.

For the portrait of Ed Mayo, Chief-Executive of the Co-Operatives UK and one of the UK’s leading thinkers for economics, community and consumer issues, I decided that the simple blue staircase with plain white wall outside the office was an ideal place. It was close to where he was, allowed me to get his undivided attention, and eliminated all of the clutter typically found in a British office building. (It’s been some time since I worked in the US, so I could be completely deluded as to how uncluttered an American office might be.)

After about this fourth frame, you can see that the subject has checked out. Crazy as it may seem, but once those frames are done, it’s got to be in the bag.

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One of the MC's for the evening, David leads the Day in Hand campaign

I love pink. When I was twenty I found a fantastic pink sofa with matching chair at an auction and just had to have it. I remember the look on my dad’s face when I brought it home in his Ford F150 pickup. It was dark when I pulled into the drive. As we were lifting the sofa out of the truck it dawned on him it was pink. “It’s Pink! Jesus Christ, Mark, why’d you buy a pink couch?” Clearly the beauty of it all was lost on him.

Years later the sofa travelled with me to Seattle thanks to my friend Mark Hagar. He was shipping a trade show booth to a client in Seattle and asked if I’d like my sofa and chair to accompany it. Always one for my creature comforts I accepted his offer and it remained with me for years.

When I moved to Europe in 2001, I put it into storage where it sort of aged for a few years. When Lee and I went to the storage place to collect my stuff, the look on his face was not dissimilar to that of my Dad’s. “You’ve spent $70 a month to keep a tatty pink sofa and chair?” We retired the sofa and gave the chair to Matthew Haggerty for his office. Just last summer I was back in Seattle and sunk back into it and smiled.

Recently, Stuart and Jackie from Terrence Higgins Trust asked if I’d shoot a signature photo for the cover of their Supperclub Magazine. We chatted about concepts and I showed them a shot I’d done using my lovely friend Anna, a cheeky chihuahua and a bottle of champagne. “That’s what we want!” Pink it was. The shoot was a blast. Pink-o-plenty. Stuart did the prop shopping. Lollipop, icecream, lobster and pomegranate (ok…that’s red, but close enough). Harvey Nichols brought the clothes and the stylist and we scored with a very handsome model. He commented that it was nice to get to smile. Normally they just want him to brood. Ah, isn’t pink a refreshing change.