dont be Jalouse.... by lalalalauren

April 3, 2012
I shot an editorial for Jalouse France.... the biggest magazine I have shot for yet... my agency told me it would be three photos in a story about jeans but it turns out the editors changed their minds at the last minute and the story turned into an 18 page editorial featuring me and two other models, Georgia Hilmer from New Jersey and Ellen Pinaffi from Brazil. There were now 12 different looks, each photo a different color background and theme. For the first three looks we had short cute black wigs on, and every look after that it was a race to change hair, makeup and nails, 10 times. The call time was at 9:00am and we finished the shoot at
12:30am!!! It was so much fun and the clothes were so amazing that I could have worked all through the night. The photographer, Jason Evans, shot the whole story in film which was the first time I shot for work with analog which was even cooler.... It comes out in the next issue in May so check it out!!

here are some behind the scenes photos:

the most amazing selection of clothes

and accessories !

our cute little choppy black wigs

the models


love those carven shoes but unfortunately they were so painful!

one of the makeup changes for the "gloria estefan" look

those gorgeous Celine shoes....


the silver look, tired and wearing acne aluminum foil-esque shirt

big and small

long legssss

makeup change




the photographer, jason evans


save the big hair for the last photo



1am... bags packed up and ready to go after the long long day!

Photographer: Jason Evans
Stylist: Anna Querouil
Hair & Makeup: Sergio Corvacho

happy new year by lalalalauren

I bought the February issue of Vogue Paris mainly to feast my eyes upon this 70 page editorial featuring daria styled by emmanuel alt... each page features a total look for the major spring collections. some really fun shots and i just love those red desert shots. cant wait to come home to my desert for visit. also really cool that when i was in milan i did an editorial wearing the same prada bodysuit that she is wearing on the cover (which i will be able to post soon!)


paris: things i have been meaning to say by lalalalauren

january 6 2011
victor and i moved to paris together for three months or so. we got there and stayed in my friend cindy's flat while we looked for an apartment for ourselves. my first day i left at 10 am to meet my new agency in paris, walking through the grey neighborhood of the 17th, the streets glistening from the rain, I arrived at Metropolitan Models on avenue de Iena. They took my portfolio, spread it out across a long glossy black table and began rearranging it to their liking, while an intern took my measurements, minutes later i went upstairs to their photo studio and shot some new polaroids. Each day I left the house, the same routine, discovering each beautiful haussman building as i hurried from casting to casting, unprepared for the misty rain sans umbrella.
I had never experienced this side of Paris, my head buried inside the detailed map of the tiny parisian streets, mapping out my day as I speed undearneath the city in the metro. Ten castings a day, each lasting no more than five minutes before rushing off to find the next one or endlessly waiting in a line of twenty or more skinny girls dressed in black, portfolios in hand. Most of the girls stuck together with the other models from their countries, more often I would hear russian and polish being spoken than french or english. Sometimes when I would enter the room with the casting directors, I would pretend I didnt speak or understand French, so I could secretly listen into their conversations and criticisms, othertimes they would be so impressed that an american girl of 20 years of age (i was told to say i was 20 years old) spoke french that i tried to use it to my advantage.
I had never really been into hanging out with models, living in a model flat, and going to all the free dinners and parties that are offered, and i felt so nice that after such a long day, spent mostly in the metro going back and forth through paris, i would come home to my wonderful boyfriend and a glass of french red wine. victor and i found an apartment in place de clichy. we were living with another american girl, but rarely saw her, as we camped out in our beautiful room, with wall to wall windows over looking the place de clichy. every day the sunsets and sunrises would shine through our window covering us in the most beautiful golden sun. we cooked dinner practically every night, since dining out in paris was too expensive for us at that time... sitting on the wooden floor with our plates on our knees, smiling.
i went on castings for brands that i had only heard of in magazines, it excited me to know that i was even being considered for jobs like these, even though the hundreds of other models probably all thought the same thing. i would go on a casting and think it went great and that i had a chance to actually book the job, but then as you can imagine, in paris with so many models to chose from, even if i had a 'good feeling', i probably wouldn't book the job. but also because it is paris there is so much work, I started working a little bit, and I was just so happy just to be working instead of out on the streets doing castings.
I started working a lot for the big catalog companies of France, La Redoute, Trois Swisse, Phildar, etc. This is great work, and although not the most glamorous, the catalogs paid great and thats where i wanted to be. i also did a funny job for a french cookie company, Lu Biscuits. all day i had to do the same act of pretending to eat this cookie, over and over, through about 20 packages of the cookie, each photo so slightly varied I couldn't tell the difference in the end. i then started to realize how much work and effort goes into just one silly photo for a damn cookie, i couldnt even imagine the time involved in shooting just the one photo for a perfume or makeup campaign.
after a month in the apartment in place de clichy we had to move. we found a great apartment in belleville, on rue rampal. it was a loft apartment, nice and renovated, and by far the nicest place I had ever lived in Paris. it was so cold in the winter, victor and i would leave our apartment in the morning and nearly freeze to death as the icy wind attacked our exposed skin. we really didn't have much money and spent most of the time at home when we were both not working. we didnt see each other very much, i worked always in the daytime, from 7am to 7pm.... victor worked at a bar in le marais, he would leave for work at 7pm and come home anytime between 3am and 8am. it was pretty frustrating as i would come home from work, just in time to wake him up and have a quick bite to eat before he hurried off to his job, and likewise as he would come home just in time to wake me up to start my day. our three and a half months in paris continued like this... we were cold from the winter wind, working completely opposite hours, and when we luckily both had a day off together, we spent them together staying warm in bed, hugging tight making up for the lost time of sleeping alone each night even though we lived together.


conversation by ai by lalalalauren

this is one of my favorite poems ever and ill just keep on reposting it forever. written by ai (1947-2010).
Conversation



We smile at each other
and I lean back against the wicker couch.
How does it feel to be dead? I say.
You touch my knees with your blue fingers.
And when you open your mouth,
a ball of yellow light falls to the floor
and burns a hole through it.
Don't tell me, I say. I don't want to hear.
Did you ever, you start,
wear a certain kind of dress
and just by accident,
so inconsequential you barely notice it,
your fingers graze that dress
and you hear the sound of a knife cutting paper,
you see it too
and you realize how that image
is simply the extension of another image,
that your own life
is a chain of words
that one day will snap.
Words, you say, young girls in a circle, holding hands,
and beginning to rise heavenward
in their confirmation dresses,
like white helium balloons,
the wreathes of flowers on their heads spinning,
and above all that,
that's where I'm floating,
and that's what it's like
only ten times clearer,
ten times more horrible.
Could anyone alive survive it?

thought process by lalalalauren

thinking about:
work. cheap vegetables. cheap wine. bright lights. bridges. big waves. big trees. roadtrips. childhood. birthmarks. cigarettes. sex. backyards. rooftops. beaches. paris. barcelona. amsterdam. venice. morocco. rome. valencia. alicante. bilbao. berlin. ibiza. tucson. brazil. birthdays. business plans. parents. brothers. camping. fresh coffee grinds. fresh flowers. electricity. mold. stars. dust. skin. curly hair. love. intelligence. profanity. addiction. forgiveness. education. tattoos. taboos. bug bites. compassion. english. french. spanish. weed. alcohol. dancing. standing still. standing up. falling down. laying around. walking in. running out. trains. wednesdays. june. july. august. peace and chaos.

back to brooklyn by lalalalauren

this place feels far away. i spent my first five days here basking in the brooklyn sunlight, walking next to the bridge and under the trees and its been pretty god damn beautiful. i feel quite lost in a literal sense, these streets seem unrecognizable and i've only been gone two years. last night i was walking in what i believed to be a general direction towards home and i felt so tired and confused and misplaced (even though, mind you, i was two blocks from an apartment i lived in for two fast years) that i hopped in a cab and spent half the money that i was eagerly saving to buy myself a pack of cigarettes on a ride home. i miss the perfect cafe con leches of barcelona from the bartender at cafe ke with victor but they have been replaced by a mini-everything bagel toasted with jalapeno cream cheese (sounds gross, but a habit is a habit) and an iced coffee with milk and one sugar.

my brother drives me across the williamsburg bridge on his 1967 honda motorcycle and although we are wearing speed racer helmets i feel like i could be an actress in an old french film with the cigarette dangling from my lips and my hair blowing in the wind as the city skyline whirls past us.

i passed an small old lady in the street today on 7th avenue in manhattan and i asked if i could take a picture of her in her dark grey bowler hat and thick tortoise glasses and as she kindly declined she explained to me the only reason she was wearing the hat is that she has such a small head and has been looked for years for a new hat but never found one that fit. ah, isn't life just like that. i still took a picture of her but from behind as she slowly walked ahead from where i stood.

when we were walking to get lunch today we witnessed a dog who had gotten hit by a taxi. there were three people huddled over the dog on the sidewalk and there was blood and panic and we crossed the street without even looking up to not have to bear witness to the tragedy.

showers never feel as good as they do here as they wash all of the dirt and grime of new york city off your body swirling peacefully down the drain to the sewers beneath.

i think everyday about the fact that new york, or more specifically, brooklyn, is like no other place in the world and nor will it ever be. more on that later.

brasil 2010 by lalalalauren

last night victor told me he would make part of the jungle.
and i pretty much imagined it like the part in avatar when she paints the guy with mud from the magic forest and then everything starts to glow neon colors around them.
it better happen exactly like it.
oh brasil! plans are in the works!