The quest for the perfect top to wear in my headshot. outlet in which to place all my neurotic, unfortunate, uncomfortable, ridiculous thought

s. Thougts, that is. The title of this post got so long that google blogger wouldn't let me finish it. I like that. Maybe all my post titles should be that long. A little act of rebellion on my blog's part.

Okay, so I've been going a little batty. When I first signed with my agent (or rather, just before) he ooohed and ahhhed over my headshots taken by the oh-so-lovely-and-talented Joseph Moran (did you see the New York Magazine cover with Caroline Kennedy {it was a month or so back just after she pulled out of the race}? He did that). 

The following picture is one that Joseph took in January of 2008. For some reason it's the only one I have on my computer. He had fashion photoshopped it--meaning it was high gloss, high glamour--not what one would use for a headshot, and sent it to me just for fun. I then put it through the poladroid program. {Just for fun.} And wha-la...

It is highly, highly edited, but you get the idea. Last go round I had about three tops to choose from--basic Ann Taylor knits. One in a reddish color, one in blue, and then just a simple, basic black t-shirt. Turns out I photograph really well in black. Agents don't really like this. They like color. The like pop--they like you to look as "commercial" as possible (please don't ask me what that means, I'm still figuring it out for myself).  

This is all to say that many moons ago my agent asked me to get new headshots. Not so serious. More fun. A little lighter, he said. And no helmet hair. 


I've been putting it off. Standing in limbo. 

No more. Action is being taken. I'm getting my headshots done again. Tomorrow. By Joseph, because I love him and would trust him to do anything with that camera of his. 

So, about a week and a half ago I began the search for the perfect top. I worried. I fretted. All other cares fell at the feet of this grand pillar of importance. East, West, North, South...I searched high and low and came up with these...

{purple top from Anthropologie}

{a pinkish/orange top from the Gap. simple. i love that}

{a mermaid green BCBG dress. i fell desperately in love with the color}

{a very fancy maroon dress from Theory}

{and finally, a navy top from Urban Outfitters that I wouldn't ever wear in real life but might just photograph beautifully. or hideously...we'll see...}

I did my best with the tops. But then of course there is the issue of my adult onset rosacea which is marring my once near perfect skin. I've used my metrogel. I've stuck to the course of antibiotics. It disappeared there for a time. But it's come back. I know, I know it can be photoshopped out. I know. But it's about how you know?

It's silly to worry about a photo. It's just a photo. I think what I'm really worried about is that in the time between when I first got my headshots taken and now...what have I really accomplished? What do I have to show for myself? The camera can't capture the changes that have taken place inside me. But perhaps Joseph can...

Here's to hoping! Happy Monday.