I use to do flowers for weddings. Did it for six years, then quit to work for magazines. I still have nightmares that it's Saturday morning and I'm sleeping. The phone rings and it's a bride wondering where her flowers are. It's a frigin horror only made worse by the caller being an Italian bride. This means there are at least 50 boutonnieres alone to make.
Well, it happened. My worst nightmare came true yesterday (minus the wedding). I was at the park with my girl. We just got there and my phone rang. It was the "Hi, Where the .... are you call!?"
I was supposed to be on set for a shoot in Vancouver at 11:30. It was 12. I ripped my girl from the park. Threw her at Grandma, changed most of my grubby clothes, added mascara and dashed. I got to the shoot with a fully loaded car of props by 2:36. Not bloody bad if I do say so myself!
What do these cute images have to do with any of this? Well, the homeowner collects these and I loved them. The photographer, Tracey Ayton, took these to simply make us smile. It was a tough day, but she was lovely to work with and forgave me. Thanks Tracey. Pop over to her site, it's very enjoyable.
I should mention, because I'm sure it helps others to know such tales of stupidity, and it just adds to the nightmare of a day I had. While I was shopping like a frantic fool - grabbing leeches, mini cedars and fragrant pears, my top was wide open. The buttons were not done up in my rush to look 'presentable'. I flashed a very busy store for about 30 minutes. It was at the checkout counter that I caught a glance of myself. To top it off, I was wearing the oldest ugliest bra I own - so it was clearly not an attempt at sexy. What could I do but laugh and say in the most nonchalant way "oh, I've come undone"
