Once we went through a good amount of poses, we run back and hop in the car to get back on the road. Only two more hours to go!
***
The winding road takes us to the middle of the mountain and our cabin. We arrive around four in the afternoon. It’s everything I imagined! It’s in the mountains right next to the slopes, but more importantly right next to the spa. I love it.
I pull up the information to the Airbnb from my email on my phone and type in the access code. One step into the cabin and I’m ten again, hyped on cocoa and ski trips and all the fake snow-globe perfection. I remember staying in little cabins like these where we would make hot cocoa and play endless games, and watch movies. We would cook mac n’ cheese, roast s’mores, and go skiing. Everything about those trips were perfect.
Lana’s looking around like she’s stepped into a Pinterest board. I love watching her take it all in—like I’m giving her the life she deserves. She told me she went skiing once, but it ended badly. But even then I’m sure they stayed somewhere a bit more affordable. Maybe that’s the trip that made her afraid of ski lifts?
There are granite countertops and wooden cabinets that match the exterior. The bedroom has lots of blankets and rugs made out of animal hide. I peek in the back and…phew! The hot tub exists! For a moment I was worried it was too good to be true.
I’m about to make that tub be my activity for the rest of my day, but first, Instagram photos! I need to take cute pics for my feed, so I brought the perfect pieces of clothing, along with my favorite photographer. How else are people going to know I’m having the time of my life here?
The sun has yet to set but by looking at the time, we don’t have much sun left. I better get started.
“Lana!” I yell, “can you please take photos of me before the sun goes down?”
“Of course!” she says like the amazing friend she is.
I throw on my green bikini, fur coat, boots, and hat. Then head out the door.
Some people may call me crazy for stepping out into the cold like this, but I call it bold. Models must be willing to do anything; being called difficult in this industry is every model’s poison. No model wants to be known as difficult, because then no one would hire them. I refuse to be difficult.
When the door opens, my skin prickles with the cold. My freshly shaven leg hairs threaten to poke themselves up and goosebumps show up on my normally glossy skin. I don’t care how stupid I look; I’m doing it for the photos.
Any guy would eat this shit up.
Lana knows the drill. She grabs my phone, opens the camera app and clicks away, getting all my best angles but also every angle just in case.
“Fix your hair, you have a piece sticking out of your hat.”
I do as she says and keep posing away. I do my main poses: putting one leg up to look cute, playing with my hair to look natural, and staring straight at the camera for fierceness on repeat. I execute them quickly and move continuously so each photo is different, yet they all flow together perfectly.
Photography is an art and the subject is the muse. I, the subject, intend to give the artist a reason to photograph me. So I move with intention, but naturally. I want to look as carefree as possible yet also sexy. Hence the bikini.
I’m freezing already, but we aren’t done. I need to get all the shots, for the full effect. My nipples don’t care though, they want tobe the center of attention. They’re hard as icicles and pointy too. I use my fur coat to cover them up a bit.
Lana is lucky, she’s fully clothed in winter gear and I’m acting like it’s summer. Summer, that’s what I need to think about to forget the cold.
A nice hot summer day, drinking margaritas and sitting poolside with a hot guy by my side. A hot guy, that’s what I need to find here.
“Back it up, just a bit—trust me, it’ll look insane,” Lana says, photographer mode activated.
Genius.
“That’s why you’re my favorite photographer!”
I’m not lying, she really is the best at taking my photos exactly how I want them.
I’ve trained her well.
I walk backwards until I’m in the path and look to see if there are any skiers. I don’t see any, so I continue with my photoshoot getting ready to pose for Lana.
I watch Lana squat down to get a good angle and that’s when I hear, “Watch out!”
And I fall.
4
