To this day, I don't file Maryna's first session with me under "successfully completed" but as a small expedition — a Vienna afternoon spent between a cramped studio, a dusty attic, and a sprint to the main station.
The location came in two parts, both rented from the same studio landlord, both only reachable via a remarkable number of stairs — the kind of climb after which you arrive at the top and pretend to admire the view while in reality you are only catching your breath. The studio itself was small and tight, everything packed into a few square metres, no room for big gestures. The attic, on the other hand, had what you go to places like that for in the first place: dreamlike window light, soft and directed through the old panes. What it also had was not in the listing — a fine layer of dust and the occasional bit of mouse droppings underfoot, which the landlord had, for obvious marketing reasons, left out. We took the room anyway. When the light is right, you forgive a floor a great deal.
Geli, my makeup artist, was along as always — and as always with the car, which would turn out to be a small stroke of luck. We had just under two hours, a tight time frame and a whole range of editorial looks ahead of us. So we changed outfits, restyled, rebuilt sets, relit — vintage, retro, dreamy, the moods changed faster than the attic could really keep up with, but that was exactly what gave it its charm.
The actual finale didn't happen in front of the camera but on the way to the station. Maryna had to catch her connecting train, the schedule was ambitious, and the calm wind-down turned into a small race against the clock — Geli at the wheel, equipment in the back, everyone slightly out of breath. We caught the train. Barely.
Huge thanks to Maryna for the trust on a first shared session, to Geli for her customarily perfect work and the spontaneous driving service — and to the landlord, who, with a bit of luck, may one day even rent in a cleaning crew.