Hailey
I've been at the studio since sunrise, my breakfast consisting of a single granola bar and two-and-a-half cappuccinos.
The camera feels good in my hands. Today's shoot is styled city-cool and I'm aiming for kinetic: models walking, talking, hair moving, uncontrolled laughter. The premise is that beauty is found in motion. It's a little on the nose, sure, but the energy is welcome after weeks of glossy, frozen perfection.
Tammy's perched on a stepladder, calling out queues to the models. "Wait, yes, Lachlan, do that again—like you just told a bad joke!" She poses with her hand on her chest, feigning outrage. "Perfect. Hailey, did you get that?"
I snap, snap, snap through the laughter, and the preview on my digital monitor practically throbs with light.
"You're killing it," Tammy sings, blowing me a kiss as she shimmies down. "Marcus is going to wet himself."
