it makes sense,
non?
) After an hour of this, the team takes a break and I finally ask Rikash about our role in this charade. “Why are we here?”
He just whispers, “You’ll see.”
There’s a lot of work waiting for me on my desk, and I’m growing impatient. I hope Rikash didn’t drag me here just so he could flirt with the photographer. “I don’t want to wait and see. I want to know now,” I snap. “In case you aren’t aware, I have counterfeiters to arrest, lawsuits to win, and designs to protect.”
“Whoa, calm down, sweetie.” He encourages me to breathe. “If you must know, the publicity team asked us to be here because they intend to significantly modify some of the photos.”
I’m surprised. I know photos are routinely touched up with Photoshop to make a model’s lips plumper, erase fine lines, or narrow a waistline, but why ask a lawyer? It must be something major.
“How significant are the changes?” I ask Rikash. “Oh wait, let me guess: ‘You’ll see,’” I say before he has the chance. He rolls his eyes skyward.
I decide to wait this out. Now I’m curious about how they’ll alter Lolita’s image.
Once the shoot is over, the model departs and we’re left with Jean-Michel and a few senior members of the marketing team. Wolfgang has disappeared too, presumably to avoid further contact with members of the legal profession.
“This is what we’d like to do.” Jean-Michel shows me his computer screen. “We want to make her face wrinkly and publish before and after photos to show what can happen if you don’t use our product.”
He places the model’s picture next to a digitally altered version that makes her look at least fifty years older. The contrast is mind-boggling.
I now understand why they wanted us here. “Okay, first things first. Have you told the model that you’re doing this?”
The photographer and his team remain silent and stare blankly at each other.
“I guess that means no.” I’m trying to act like a team player, but something tells me that playtime is about to be cut short. “What does her contract say? Does anyone have a copy handy?”
It’s a few moments before anyone answers. “We don’t have a copy of it here,” the publicity director says, “but she signed our standard waiver.”
“I don’t think you should publish these photos without her written authorization,” I say. The group seems disappointed. “She could sue us for unauthorized and improper image manipulation. It’s happened before.” I’ve done my homework in this area.
“This is where our reputation as party poopers comes in,” Rikash says.
“Are you sure?” Jean-Michel asks. “If we make them look too young, we get shot down by the Advertising Standards Board, and if we make them look old, we get sued. We can’t win.” He shakes his head.
I want to say that he wouldn’t have any problems if he simply portrayed models realistically, but I keep it to myself. I already feel like the school principal calling an end to recess.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” I say firmly. “She could claim that the retouched image might adversely affect her modelling career. I realize this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but I’m just looking out for the company’s interests. Let’s get her approval in writing, okay?”
After an awkward silence, the publicity director agrees. “She’s probably left the building by now, but we’ll try to figure something out with her agent.”
“Send me the contract. I’ll take care of it.” I might as well be cooperative, I figure.
I turn to leave the room, Rikash following close behind. AsI turn to wave goodbye, I catch him mouthing “Call me” to Jean-Michel.
He lifts his toned shoulders innocently. “Sorry, hon, I really can’t help myself. I was born this way.”
Back in our office, I return a few calls and emails. Before long, I receive a copy of the model’s contract from the publicity department. Her name is Yulia
non?
) After an hour of this, the team takes a break and I finally ask Rikash about our role in this charade. “Why are we here?”
He just whispers, “You’ll see.”
There’s a lot of work waiting for me on my desk, and I’m growing impatient. I hope Rikash didn’t drag me here just so he could flirt with the photographer. “I don’t want to wait and see. I want to know now,” I snap. “In case you aren’t aware, I have counterfeiters to arrest, lawsuits to win, and designs to protect.”
“Whoa, calm down, sweetie.” He encourages me to breathe. “If you must know, the publicity team asked us to be here because they intend to significantly modify some of the photos.”
I’m surprised. I know photos are routinely touched up with Photoshop to make a model’s lips plumper, erase fine lines, or narrow a waistline, but why ask a lawyer? It must be something major.
“How significant are the changes?” I ask Rikash. “Oh wait, let me guess: ‘You’ll see,’” I say before he has the chance. He rolls his eyes skyward.
I decide to wait this out. Now I’m curious about how they’ll alter Lolita’s image.
Once the shoot is over, the model departs and we’re left with Jean-Michel and a few senior members of the marketing team. Wolfgang has disappeared too, presumably to avoid further contact with members of the legal profession.
“This is what we’d like to do.” Jean-Michel shows me his computer screen. “We want to make her face wrinkly and publish before and after photos to show what can happen if you don’t use our product.”
He places the model’s picture next to a digitally altered version that makes her look at least fifty years older. The contrast is mind-boggling.
I now understand why they wanted us here. “Okay, first things first. Have you told the model that you’re doing this?”
The photographer and his team remain silent and stare blankly at each other.
“I guess that means no.” I’m trying to act like a team player, but something tells me that playtime is about to be cut short. “What does her contract say? Does anyone have a copy handy?”
It’s a few moments before anyone answers. “We don’t have a copy of it here,” the publicity director says, “but she signed our standard waiver.”
“I don’t think you should publish these photos without her written authorization,” I say. The group seems disappointed. “She could sue us for unauthorized and improper image manipulation. It’s happened before.” I’ve done my homework in this area.
“This is where our reputation as party poopers comes in,” Rikash says.
“Are you sure?” Jean-Michel asks. “If we make them look too young, we get shot down by the Advertising Standards Board, and if we make them look old, we get sued. We can’t win.” He shakes his head.
I want to say that he wouldn’t have any problems if he simply portrayed models realistically, but I keep it to myself. I already feel like the school principal calling an end to recess.
“Yes, I’m afraid so,” I say firmly. “She could claim that the retouched image might adversely affect her modelling career. I realize this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but I’m just looking out for the company’s interests. Let’s get her approval in writing, okay?”
After an awkward silence, the publicity director agrees. “She’s probably left the building by now, but we’ll try to figure something out with her agent.”
“Send me the contract. I’ll take care of it.” I might as well be cooperative, I figure.
I turn to leave the room, Rikash following close behind. AsI turn to wave goodbye, I catch him mouthing “Call me” to Jean-Michel.
He lifts his toned shoulders innocently. “Sorry, hon, I really can’t help myself. I was born this way.”
Back in our office, I return a few calls and emails. Before long, I receive a copy of the model’s contract from the publicity department. Her name is Yulia
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