Decisions, decisions…
Walking into a venue before the show starts and looking at an empty riser, is both exhilarating and unnerving at the same time. Exhilarating, because I get to choose where I will be posted for the show. Unnerving, because there is most certainly a hierarchy for photographers at a runway show. At the top of the list is House video, which is one camera for shooting tight and another for shooting wide. Next, is the House/designer photographer and lastly, is the Getty photographer. After that is Vogue, Elle, Women’s World Daily, The New York Daily News and any other outlet that has been designated a spot, which are all marked off on the riser. House video, designer House and Getty are almost always at a show, but the others show up sporadically. This is where the anxiety kicks in...
Everyone wants the lowest spot on the riser that is closest to the center of the runway, because that is where the models walk and everyone wants that feeling of the model looking directly into their lens. I can take one of the spots that are marked off for the “possibles”, but I take a chance of it being two minutes before the show starts and everyone is situated in their best negotiated spot on the riser and that “possible” shows up. “CRAP!!!” I would have to move and there would be nowhere remaining but way off to the right where people have thrown their jackets and cases. Or... I can take one of the non-marked spots on the riser, which guarantees me a spot, just not as good as the one 8 inches lower and 10 inches closer to the center. It does not sound like much, but it makes a difference in the final product. But I digress, the popularity of the designer will essentially make the decision for me, because of the law of probability. If it’s a well-known designer, all of the aforementioned outlets will probably be there. Luckily, it is a new designer, so there shouldn’t be too many of us up here in the first place, so I will take a chance and cop one of the prime spots.
As a crowd starts to fill the venue, the riser starts to fill up also. Photographers around me are jockeying for position and doing more negotiating that was done during the Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty talks. There are people asking for stools to stand on, because the person in front of them is 1/2 inch in their shot. Some are begging others to take their hats off or to turn just slightly to the right so that their left hand can turn the zoom ring on their lens without bumping the guy to the left. As all of this is going on, I am completely fixated on the door of the venue. Not for some actor or model or singer, but for the guy I know is the Vogue photographer. I am in his spot! As time ticks on, I am sweating and fidgeting and doing my best to will the door into closing. The last thing that I want to see, is somebody running through the door holding a camera. Finally after what seemed like an hour, which was actually just five minutes, the ushers begin to remove the seat section signs and the security guards tell everyone to take their seats. And then…. the door closes and I let out a barely audible “sweet.” Its too late for Vogue now. The lights go down and then the announcement comes from a photographer on the floor, “Ladies and gentlemen, please uncross your legs and keep your cell phones as close to you as possible. Thanks.” I put my earbuds in and start the music, all the while hoping I have the same luck at my next show.
