The beauty of crossed legs and lingerie
Chantelle, Victoria's Secret, Le Mystere, Sassybax, Spanx, Simone Perele. Angelos Fertakis pays homage to the holy trinity of high heels, long legs, and lingerie.
I remember her as though it were yesterday: 5 ft 10 inches tall, soft blonde hair, long slim legs, tight black skirt, black thigh highs, and a pair of Jimmy Choo spiked heels. Her name was Gudrun, an Icelandic model, and I was meeting her at O'Hare Airport for a road trip from Chicago to Galveston, Texas.
She must have been stunningly beautiful because every male head in the arrivals lounge rubber-necked as she click-clacked on her beautiful heels toward me. She pecked me lightly on the cheek and whispered, "There'll be more later", which immediately made me think of those long, long legs wrapped around my back. "Keep the shoes on," I would have to tell her. As it turned out, there'd be no need to tell her. Gudrun liked to keep her Jimmy Choos on in bed.
Meeting of minds
Ours was a meeting of minds, a collaboration of shared interests. I'd hooked up with Gudrun via a friend of a friend of a colleague on msn. We'd chatted back and forth, Skyped, shared video clips and ideas.
Stroking legs
I wanted to photograph a beautiful woman in heels and lingerie on a road trip across the States, and Gudrun yearned for pretty much the same thing, the feeling of being on assignment while on holiday. She was, of course, an exhibitionist, excited by the prospect of walking into diners in small town America wearing the finest shoes, outfits, and sexy lingerie.
Long, toned legs
She was also aware of the total transformation of a woman's figure that takes place when she slides exclusive hosiery onto long, toned legs, and then finishes the work of art with beautiful hand-crafted shoes by Blahnik or Choo.
Love in small towns
Over the next couple of weeks, Gudrun and I drove from small town to small town, the type of place it's fun to visit because you know you can leave quickly; you would never want to stay. At the same time as small town America is quaintly charming, reminiscent of a more innocent and simpler world, it is also stifling with its conformity and conservatism.
Model's figure
What's more, a model like Gudrun would wreck her figure in a week if she ate every meal in small town diners serving hash browns, sausage links, greasy eggs, and mega stacks of pancakes.
One of my hardest tasks on the road was finding the farmer's markets and upscale grocery stores that could satisfy Gudrun's desire for the freshest, crispiest salad, the sweetest oranges and pomegranates, the right type of sparkling mineral water, preferably Ramlosa from Sweden, but failing that, Perrier. You try to find Ramlosa in Cow's Udder Crossing, Oklahoma.
Sleeping in the same bed
What I most admired about Gudrun on the entire trip was her ability to keep a professional model's distance to everyone and everything around her. We slept in the same bed most nights, we had great sex some nights, but I never got to know her. That turned me on and fuelled my intense interest in the details that make women so sexy.
Thrill is gone
When you know a woman too well, much of her mystery is gone. When your wife, who you have seen shaving her armpits and blowing her nose, slips into Sassybax and Jimmy Choo, it is not quite the same as an inapproachable model doing the same thing. You are too aware of faults and blemishes, too cut up by all the tiny battles and conflicts that are a feature of family life to be consumed by lust for a woman you have lived with for years.
Pure sex appeal
It's like looking at gorgeous Angelina Jolie on the red carpet with Brad Pitt. To the outsider and bystander, she is pure woman, pure sex appeal. We are not aware of, nor care about, the bickering between her and Brad on the way to the party. We don't think of the trouble she had fastening her dress or getting her boobs to reveal just enough but not more. "Brad baby, I am freaking out over here. We gotta be out of here in 10 minutes max."
Icy perfection
What Gudrun was able to do during our two weeks together was to keep the feeling of aloofness. She would keep me at a maddening but enticing distance. It worked so well for the photographs: here was a slice of Icelandic perfection, a stunning icy blonde on the dusty plains of Texas. She looked deliciously out of place. People would stop and stare but they would not dare to approach her. Everything about her said, "I am a highly paid model. I am not the girl next door. I have no time for you and no time to waste."
Painted toes
For two weeks, I lived with this difficult, demanding woman. I shared her bed, I bought and made her food, I painted her toe nails, I drove her from Chicago to Galvestion. It was a thankless task in many ways but I loved every second of it. When did you last spend everyday with an international model wearing the finest outfits and the sexiest lingerie?
By Angelos Fertakis