Monika braves the dead of winter for her art: one or two goose bumps evident, but not a fried egg in sight.


Photographers have it easy these days, especially here in Australia, don’t they?

Just rock on down to the nearest beach, model in tow, and bob’s your uncle: sun and surf, pristine beaches, sparkling seas, glistening sands, and sensationally, sexy sirens  all for the taking.

Bang off a few snaps and magazine covers, exceptional portfolios, and international awards are at your fingertips.

As one marketing monkey put it: beautiful one day, perfect the next!

Or maybe not.

While amateurs, wannabes, and fauxpros fight with searing temperatures, teeming crowds of backpackers, and shadows which would put a panda bear to shame, more seasoned shooters avoid the Australian summer and schedule the majority of swimwear and beach shoots for the more gentle light, milder weather conditions and almost deserted locations at the very beginning of spring, and during the crisp, haze free days of the autumn months.

Which brings me to today.

Shoot with a beautiful bikini babe scheduled well ahead: babe ready, bikinis ready, batteries ready.

Weather forecast checked several times over the past week or so: sunny, pleasant temperatures, chance of rain 10% falling to 2% as the afternoon went on.

It’s a go!

Woke up this morning: raining, cold enough to freeze the tail off a tadpole, windy enough to blow the prawns out of their shells, and beaches closed to due enormous seas and dangerous swells.

Frustration strikes again!

Well what to do, but stand around all day and scratch my bum.

Well at least we are more civilized now than in the past…the ‘pre- digital’ age, when due to film processing times, and long magazine lead times, all swimsuit shoots…well if you wanted nice , sparkling seas and blue skies, and fantastically great pics for summer magazine covers,… took place in mid winter when the model slipped off her parka, her ugg boots, and balaclava, just long enough to smile in her string bikini before she froze her tits off, and the photographer’s finger froze onto the shutter button.

Those were the days when men were men, and photographers and models deserved awards.

Ah well, I’ve scratched my bum, nothing else to do but roll over and go back to sleep.


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