good thing I kept the flash off

The other day when I was at an INC shoot, I was sitting next to a man who was barking orders at everyone. At the time, I didn't know he was the designer of the line and I honestly just thought he was a total dick. He would scream at Cesar saying the hair wasn't right, he constantly gave us a time-check and he just added a lot of unnecessary stress to the situation. But what do I know?

Part of my job is to take pictures of the step-by-step processes for the different hair styles so I can add them to Cesar's portfolio and send them to other stylists. As I'm sitting at the table, camera in hand, getting ready to take some pictures, the designer jumps out of his chair and runs to another assistant-looking girl who's taking pictures. He rips her camera out of her hands and makes her leave. "How the fuck does anyone get anything done with these flashes going off every two seconds?!"

Dead silence.

Well, guess I'm not taking any more pictures then.

He sits back down next to me and looks at me and says, "see, if she could've been more discreet like you, she wouldn't have been kicked out." Ok, that made me feel better.

To me, that comment was just an open invitation to kiss his ass and get on his good side. Which I did. And apparently I did it well. We talked for a while, and I still had no idea who this jerk was, just that he was obviously important and that everyone was afraid of him. In between his yelling and directing, we struck up a conversation about what I was doing and why I was doing it. He seemed genuinely interested and at the end of the shoot, came up and asked me for my resume, mentioning something about a fictitious blog that he wants to start. I gave it to him, he gave me his card, and that was that. I didn't think much of it again until later.

Later comes around--I was at DopDop salon and started talking to Gay Feldman who was there getting her hair colored. We started talking about how crazy the week was going and when the events of earlier that morning came up and I mentioned I had met a "Bill Millin." Her jaw dropped, she just stared at me. After her initial shock subsided, she laughed. "YOU met Bill Mullen?" Oh, my bad, it's Mullen?

Little do I know, this dude is HUGE. He's an editor/stylist/model/fashion god and isn't necessarily the easiest person to talk to, let alone talk to pleasantly. So I guess that means he is one of those people that I should follow up with... maybe I'll take my dad's advice and start telling people I charge $150 an hour.

Just goes to show that sometimes a little naivety can work in your favor.

Bill Mullen