Brooklyn
I seriously can’t believe Steffany & Co. are paying me to do this.
It’s going to be my first time modeling for a luxury jewelry designer, but I hope to God it’s not my last. Not only is the company flying me and my manager (a.k.a.
husband) first class to Canada, but they also arranged for a private car to take us directly from the airport to Banff’s ritziest lodge, a chateau that looks like a magic castle against the mountain backdrop.
My suite has its own stone fireplace, and the balcony overlooks the turquoise glacial waters of Moraine Lake and the majestic Canadian Rockies.
I feel like I’ve been offered a vacation, not a job.
When Luka initially informed me that the Steffany people were giving me a contract, I’d assumed the shoot would take place somewhere in Chicago, or at least in the continental US.
But when he said it was going to be in Banff, I couldn’t stop myself from jumping up and down with excitement.
It’s not just a pretty ski town tucked away in Canada’s oldest national park—though it is that—it’s hands down one of the most beautiful destinations on the planet.
“Is it safe to assume that’s a yes?” he had teased me, and I’d thrown myself in his arms.
“This is incredible! I’ve dreamed of visiting there, but I never thought I’d be crossing it off my bucket list so soon!” I’d blurted. “Do you think the hot springs will be open?”
“They’re open year-round,” he told me.
“Yes!” But then my mood had quieted, as I realized that I’d be leaving town just when we were finally starting to get our marriage back on track. “How long will I be gone for?”
“Just a few days,” he’d said, avoiding my gaze in a way that seemed suspicious.
“Soo…what aren’t you telling me?” I asked, stepping back to narrow my eyes at him.
Clearing his throat, he’d said, “It’s not that. I just wanted to ask if you’d be interested in having me accompany you on the shoot. But no pressure—it’s your call.”
Um, what? Luka Zoric was asking my permission to come to one of my photo shoots? For a moment I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to say. In the old days, he’d just show up on set if he felt like it. Now it was my call?
It would be a lie to say I wasn’t wary—he’d definitely made himself a nuisance in the past, arguing with crew and photographers and asserting his artistic opinions left and right—but the truth was, I wanted him with me.
Plus, now that we were on more equal footing in our relationship, it was time to see if he could prove himself as both my partner and manager in a professional setting.
“Of course I would,” I answered. “Honestly, I’d love for you to be there.”
And now here we are.
As the plane descends toward Calgary International, I lean over Luka and point out the window at the brilliant blue sky and the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Even from ninety miles away, I can tell that the weather is going to be picture-postcard perfect.
“Look at the lake!” I exclaim.
Crystal blue-green water reflects back at us from a heavenly body of water cradled between shallow mountain peaks.
The image is enough to keep me smiling even as the plane jostles onto the tarmac with a loud, rough landing.
Luka’s arm is around me, our hands entwined, and as the captain comes over the PA to chat with the passengers, I take it as a prime opportunity to pout my lips at my husband and close my eyes for a kiss.
Cupping the back of my head, he kisses me slowly, leisurely, neither of us breaking apart until the plane comes to a full stop.
At baggage claim, we’re met by a driver holding a sign that says my name, much to my delight.
The older gentleman insists on pushing our luggage cart all the way to the private car, and then we’re treated to a scenic ninety-minute drive to the fancy hotel where we’re staying.
As luck would have it, we check in just in time to make the afternoon tea reservation that Steffany & Co.
has arranged for us. I feel like an actual princess.
Luka is less impressed, clearly not having years of girlhood tea party memories rushing back to him the way I am, but he goes along with it for my benefit, from choosing his tea to sampling the variety of tiny sandwiches, tea cakes, and scones with cream that are presented to us on a tiered silver tray.
We take our time, sipping and nibbling and looking out the huge windows at the amazing view of the mountains.
“It looks like a screensaver,” I murmur with awe.
I’m not sure what’s so funny about that, but my husband can’t stop laughing.
We make our way up to the room, which is just as rustic-luxurious as it looked on the website, but before I can throw myself on the bed and pass out, my phone rings.
It’s the photographer’s assistant, who says they’re already waiting for us in the lobby so we can talk about wardrobe, location, and staging.
The first shoot is scheduled for this evening.
We’re met downstairs by a tall Frenchman named Remi Duquesne—a photog famous for his stark, iconic celebrity portraits—and his assistant Malia. They welcome us with open arms.
“Such a pleasure to meet you both,” Remi says, his accent pleasingly thick, air-kissing our cheeks in that classic French way that I find so charming. “I don’t normally work on commercial photography, but I could not turn down this opportunity.”
With a smile, he gestures at the view out the windows.
We find out the shoot is going to be really laid back, despite the huge budget.
Remi explains that it’s not his style to over-plan things, and that he always gets his best shots by letting his subjects relax and act natural.
“Which is why Steffany & Co. hired me,” he adds.
“They want something fresh and different, not their usual over-staged, airbrushed ads.”
“So what’s the angle?” I ask, filled with curiosity. I’d figured I’d be doing the usual S & Co. type of modeling—posing stiffly in a foyer or a ballroom in a black sheath dress with a cold expression on my face, exuding steely confidence and wealth. This sounds very different.
Remi confirms by saying, “There’s no precise vision for the campaign—they’ve just asked me to capture ‘diamonds in a winter wonderland.’ To that end, we’ve scouted a nearby farm location, where we’ll have access to canoes, some hiking trails. I would love your input.”
Normally this is where Luka would step in and take charge, but when I glance over expecting him to jump in, he just puts a hand on the small of my back and nods. “I’m sure Brooklyn has some brilliant ideas. She has a great eye for detail.”
My grin widens, and as I start pitching ideas to Remi, I realize how much I’ve actually learned over the last few months of watching Luka rely on his instincts at my shoots.
“So you’re not opposed to being outdoors?” Remi asks.
“Not at all,” I say. “We’ll get better shots the closer we get to the snow. And let’s try the canoe, even if we’re just at the water’s edge. This is the fantasy version of the holidays, right?”
“Excellent,” Malia chimes in. I notice she already has on her hiking boots.
Remi nods. “Good. Mother Nature will be the star. And the stones will sparkle just like the snow, reflect the lake and sky, which is fitting since they’re products of the earth, no?”
Luka tells me, “Just take in all that nature and let the joy play out on your face. That’s what’ll really sell people on Steffany & Co. at the end of the day.”
I’m loving this shoot already.
Remi steps away to take a call, and comes back a minute later with a huge grin.
“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.”