Naughty Paris

After a few days' break, the photographer returns from the French Riviera for two final days of Naughty Paris shooting in Paris. I was able to get a few more appointments settled, but we have a lot to cover in a short time.

On Monday morning we begin at Le Bon Marché department store, shooting images of the Théâtre de Beauté (that's a fancy name for the Cosmetics and Perfume Department). If you just walk into a department store (well, most stores, actually) and start shotting photos, you'll have a very angry staff on your back very quickly. At the Bon Marché we had to get special badges AND a letter from the PR director giving us permission to take photos. We had to whip out the letter several times, and even with it the woman at the Chanel counter was being officious and making a lot of phone calls to find out whether it was really okay for us to have our model photographed in front of a huge bottle of Chanel n°5. Since I didn't think we had time to sit around and wait, we just left and found another stand that wouldn't hassle us.

The people at Guerlaine were very polite, and the makeup artist Sebastien even agreed to do a little impromptu make-over on our model for the camera.

Nicole's Mona Lisa smile.

After the Bon Marché we broke for lunch. But we don't ever really get breaks. Kirsten continued shooting photos as we walked to the café in the Jardins du Luxembourg. I had to keep an eye out for the park guards (professional shooting in the Paris parks requires a permit, so anyone with a tripod or even a fancy-looking camera will get stopped). Luckily the guards seem to be on vacation already, and we have no problems. The sun is a bit too strong, creating contrasts that don't photograph well. Who knew that the pros actually prefer overcast days?

We meet up with writer Stephen Clarke (author of the best-selling Year in the Merde series) at lunch. I know Kirsten is a huge fan, so I ask him if he'll do a cameo appearance in the book for us (see Day 9).

Stephen checking out Kirsten's camera.

We're running a little late (slow waiter), so being the cruel boss lady that I am, I herd Kirsten to the next appointment before her noisette café arrives. We have a rendez-vous with Victoria Vesta, the Pleasure Coach. My friends are all quite intrigued by the idea of a Pleasure Coach. Even after visiting Victoria's website, Divine Feminine Touch, they are still full of questions. "So what exactly does she do?" being the most common. She teaches men, women, and couples how to touch each other. She does sensual massage to help people learn about their own erogenous zones. She talks to people, helping them find their own sensuality and remove whatever might be blocking that in their lives....et cetera. No, there's no sex. She's not that kind of masseuse.

The Boudoir.

So, that out the way, back to the shoot. The room where the sessions take place is very dark, so Kirsten gets to work setting up the tripod and testing different angles and lighting. I check out the cool feathers (used in the massage), but start getting worried about our female model, who seems to be MIA. We begin with the male model on the table, and I end up standing in as a hand model (this isn't the only time you'll see my hands in the book), with Victoria showing me how to massage the model. There's a bit of a debate about whether the model's bare bottom should be seen in the guide or not. After all, this is a lady's guide, and even if it's implied, I'm not sure I'm comfortable with showing it. We compromise with a strategically-placed feather and everyone is happy (good thing the model isn't ticklish).

The model's legs and Victoria's hand.

Our female model hasn't been answering her phone because she forgot it at home and had been standing outside the metro station hoping I'd come find her (she didn't have the address with her either). That finally cleared up, we take the rest of the photos and then head back out to take some shopping photos around Place St-Sulpice.



Our model's in a playful mood as always (which is sooooooo helpful, since Kirsten and I need the energy boost at this point), and hops onto a red Vespa parked in the square. I pray that it doesn't tip over, or that the owner isn't sitting on the café terrace across the street glaring at us. It is a cute Vespa, and I wish we could have her riding around on one with her shopping bags. Alas, as cute as it may be, how many people visiting Paris rent a scooter? Hmmmm....maybe more SHOULD.



We say good bye to our model Nicole and head home for a short break before meeting two other models for more shopping pics on the Avenue Montaigne. We get there at about 8:30pm so we have good light (and minimum foot traffic from shoppers). I window shop while Kirsten directs the models (basically, walking back and forth a million times until the shot looks "natural"). I continuously herd the bystanders out of the camera's range, and carry around Kirsten's tripod like a caddy (we decide that we'll hire a caddy for the next guidebook. And a personal masseuse).

Kirsten shows the models how to walk while I guard the camera.

The sun is almost down, but the day is not over. One of the restaurants in the guide, Ginger, is right around the corner, and we need some night shots of the dining room. The models are starving, so we kill two birds with one stone. Ginger is surprisingly full for a Monday night on July 30, so we decide to start at the bar where we won't disturb anyone. We ask the barman Sophana to mix us some pretty cocktails (pretty strong, that is) for the models, while Kirsten and I continue on our Perrier diets.

Kirsten goes over the day's shoot with the models.

Pho at Ginger...must feed the models...

By the time enough clients have left to get shots of the dining room, it's almost midnight. We celebrate with a nightcap (wine for me, Champagne for Kirsten, who says that bars in Toronto don't serve it by the glass like they do in Paris). I put her in a taxi soon after. She calls ten minutes later to tell me she has seen the perfect spot to shoot the foot of the Eiffel Tower. I ask her how, between the Champs-Elysées and the Latin Quarter, she ended up passing the foot of the Eiffel Tower. She barely speaks French, so I think her taxi driver was giving her the "tourist tour" of the city. Sigh. I ask her to make sure she gets a receipt.

Tomorrow is our last day of shooting. I can barely sleep, hoping that we're not forgetting anything important.

Come back tomorrow to see a sneak peek inside the only fetish club left in Paris!