For One, For All

For One, For All

Fabrice rummaged through his Tumi messenger bag for a cigarette. He had finished his last Gauloise this morning, and didn’t have time to run down the street to pick up another pack at Len’s Liquors. He was desperate; he needed a smoke to get him through this godamned photo shoot. He frantically rooted around until his fingers came upon something that felt like a cigarette. He quickly pulled it out; a little crushed but perfectly smokeable. He straightened it out as best he could, jammed it in his mouth, and lit it. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke slowly billow out of his nostrils; the cigarette tasted old but so satisfying. He was running late so he flicked it away half-smoked, ran his fingers through his wavy bobbed hair and walked into the studio.

Fabrice was beyond annoyed. Today’s shoot was a print ad for CK One, “A Fragrance for All”, the ads would proclaim. Calvin Klein himself was there overseeing the shoot. Christ he looks good, Fabrice thought. Tall, tanned, trim, tastefully attired, all-around tasty. He is well preserved, Christ; he’s like 60 years old. Is he wearing mascara, Fabrice wondered, and the skin on his face looks a little too taught.

“Okay, everyone!,” Calvin clapped, “I want this shoot to evoke a dreamland of sensuality and sublimity. Boys look at boys, girls stare longingly at girls, just let the love creep up and flow over you, let it heat you and then cool you down. Bathe yourself in the philosophy of the fragrance. Now let’s have a fabulous shoot!”, Calvin clapped again. A lot of the models clapped as well. What the fuck are Lili-Belle and Trent clapping for?, Fabrice sniffed. And what the fuck was Calvin talking about?

“Okay, everyone! Take your usual positions!” Bruce, the photographer, called out. All the models lay down and the stylists rushed in to adjust and pose them. “C’ MON, EVERYBODY!” bellowed a red-faced Calvin, “INTERTWINE YOUR LEGS!” “I wanna see looking at each other bored and indifferent.” Bruce chimed in. “NO! Bruce, they are in a sort of trance-like state; they are dreaming, not bored!” Calvin screamed at Bruce.
“So the same old thing”, Bruce muttered under his breath.

“Oh Christ, do I have to do everything?” Calvin shouted and stomped over to the models. He stepped around and through the models laying together on the studio floor. He pulled Fifi’s arm so it draped over Lili-belle’s stomach. He grabbed Gino’s foot and was pulling it over the girls. With his back to Trent, he didn’t notice that he was shoving Gino’s booted foot into Trent’s crotch.
“OOOOOH!”, Trent screamed out.
“Sorry”, Calvin yelled out off-handedly.

He stepped on Chantal’s hair trying to shove Lili-belle’s head onto Francoise’s shoulder.
Calvin was flushed and a little sweaty, Fabrice noticed, in fact, he’s looking kind of withered, his clothes seem a little big. He is kind of fragile looking…old. Is Calvin dying his hair, Fabrice wondered. There didn’t appear to be any highlights or lowlights; Rob, Fabrice’s ex, did hair, and he said natural hair is never one uniform color. While we’re on the subject of color, isn’t Calvin’s “tan” a little to orange to be sun-kissed? For that matter, was he covering up his thinning air by putting all kinds of product in it and spiking it? And speaking of covering up, isn’t Calvin living a lie by marrying a woman? Okay they divorced, but still. And while we’re on the subject of a “fabulous shoot”, would mean Calvin Klein receiving a nice, clean bullet to his tiny, little head. Fabrice laughed as he draped his arm around Lance.