Page 83 of Bad Influence
Oh mate, it’s great to hear from you!came the reply within minutes.I’ve been following your work with Mandy. Loved her look at the launch in LA, she looked blooming gorgeous! How’s it all going?
It’s great, I replied.Do you think you can help get me this dress?I WhatsApped the image to him.It’s urgent, and I’m kind of desperate. It’s the only thing Mandy wants to wear for our latest photoshoot. It will go viral for sure. The shoot is tomorrow .
Babe, I haven’t spoken to David in a while, but I’ll give it a try, you never know.
I will literally be your slave forever. Anything you ever need. Crossing everything and thanking you so much. Ax
And then I took my phone off silent and waited.
An hour later, a message came through from Joseph.It turns out David is a big fan of Mandy’s. You owe me big time, mate! Meet me outside Selfridges at 6 p.m. I’ll have the dress. Jx
I actually punched the air.
The pursuit of the perfect viral moment was the plan for West Wittering beach this blustery Sunday morning. It was an unseasonably rainy and cold April day. Our team of six was primed to shoot a social media moment to show off Mandy’s bump to her British audience. It was to be candid, raw, and real, without an expensive crew. Our new stance around authenticity seemed to be sinking in at last, and we set to work capturing Mandy’s pregnancy in all its beauty, against the dramatic, rugged, distinctly British landscape.
I sank a little deeper into my camo Dryrobe, glad for its warmth. On the other side of a sparse, grassy verge, perched on the highest point of a sand dune, a beautiful, voluptuous woman was standing in a skimpy dress, barefoot, looking out to sea, her expression wistful. Except for her billowing hair, she could almost be a statue. Her white dress had become see-through, thanks to the heavy rain, and was barely covering her bottom, her thighs fully on show. The dress was clinging to her body in all the right places. The instant tan carefully applied earlier was trickling down her calf and her mascara was smudged.
As the rain poured down on our famous subject, many onlookers stopped to gawk at the surprising vision beforethem – like a figure from aquatic mythology – her hands on her burgeoning bump, which looked perfectly smooth and round as she posed for the photos being taken by Jimi.
Most passers-by gave her a double-take, some with a look of curiosity, most with visible disdain, perturbed by this blot on the picturesque landscape. Yet, if a bystander happened to be under the age of thirty, the double-take was swiftly followed by the elevation of a camera phone, followed by, I imagine, an upload to TikTok, Snap, or Insta. Soon, a few others had noticed, and this led to a murmur of excitement along the beach as more people wondered what could be causing this much fuss before nine a.m. on a soggy Sunday. Before we knew it, like bees to a hive, a little crowd of spectators had formed around the Queen. It had become startlingly apparent that this freezing-cold figure, in pursuit of the perfect social media moment, was not your average local.
As the morning progressed, still the winds came and the rain fell in sheets, and we could see this wasn’t the easiest assignment for Mandy, who seemed to be posing in an awkward way; her hands wrapped around her middle, as if she was trying to hold the dress together, as well as find the most flattering angles.
‘I know it’s hard, but can you try to relax a little?’ Jimi was shouting, as he moved around on an adjacent sand dune capturing her best side. We had no mobile phone reception on the beach, so he was using a megaphone we had brought along to communicate with Mandy.
After a whole hour of standing in various poses in thebiting winds, she picked it up and yelled, ‘Just tell me you got it? I’m freezing all my cellulite off over here!’
Jimi signalled with a feeble thumbs-up, followed by a moving flat hand.
Mandy looked stressed. ‘What does thatmean? You’re not sure? I told you to keep your finger down. It’s meant to look candid. Did you get the video too?’
She turned to her left. ‘Jose! Will you check if he’s got it? I can’t stand here all day, I can feel hyperthermia starting.’ Then, clocking some bystanders with phones raised and pointed in her direction, she added, ‘I’ll either die out here, or someone will get the exclusive before me!’
They smiled uncomfortably and backed off.
When Jose reached Jimi, he also looked unconvinced by the images.
‘Well, I can’t feel my fat anymore,’ Mandy called back. ‘Let’s call it quits. We can always tweak things in Photoshop later.’ That comment made me bristle. Yet I felt for Mandy, being such a trooper in unforgiving conditions.
‘We’re so nearly there, just a few more shots and I think we’d have it in the bag,’ Jimi shouted into his cupped hands.
Mandy began sounding-off about how she needn’t have bothered paying for the cryotherapy sessions, when she could have just come here instead.
Jose looked back towards Julie-Anne and asked, ‘What do you think?’
Julie-Ann urged calm. ‘We need to think about the baby too. Mandy, why don’t you take ten in the trailer? Let’s see how you feel when you’ve warmed up.’
‘Finally, someone speaking sense!’ Mandy stormed. ‘Amber, where’s that Dryrobe?’
I leapt into action, tossing the other Dryrobe over my arm, and rushing over to fling it around her shoulders, which were glistening with rainwater. I was always prepared, even on our ‘candid’ shoots. Then I led her to shelter – the Winnebago Julie-Ann had hired as our transport for the day, and for Mandy to use as a dressing room.
As we passed Jimi, he muttered, ‘What is it you Brits say, “No such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes”?’
Jimi. Making every day more exciting purely by his presence; his ostentatious bright white puffa jacket at odds with the scenery, but he still looked gorgeous. As the wind picked up, the sharp, fresh aroma of his citrus aftershave made my nostrils zing.On paper, I should not find it attractive. On paper, he is absolutely not my type. On paper, this is wrong for hundreds of reasons. But the problem is, the paper got torn up and burnt somewhere along the way.
‘Any eagle-eyed fashion fan will know this dress,’ I replied, unperturbed. ‘There are only two in existence and Jennifer Lopez has the other.’
‘Well, you Brits sure are teaching us about resilience,’ he quipped, slipping me a sideways glance laced with affection. I wonder what exactly he meant by this.
