Peru, beyond la moda

Lessons from Mamma Natura

Anna Dello Russo made it clear if I left, I’d be on my own. I always respected her honesty. I wanted to prove my worth in New York. I knew that meant I’d be taking all the paid gigs I could get while building my portfolio. I assisted any young stylist that was paying right after the job. I met a Spanish editor through a talent agent and we meshed instantly. She was humble coming from the corporate finance world and started styling because she loved fashion, had great taste, and happened to be good friends with an editor at Harper’s España. Working together was a joy, treating me as a junior editor, taking on many of my suggestions. As a School of Condé alumna, I was teaching more than learning but it was easy money and she became more a friend as we got to know each other. We’d get dinner, drinks and share intimate stories of life, love, and telenovelas. After leaving Milano I had very few girlfriends in the industry, so working with her felt a bit like home. When the opportunity arrived for a ten day editorial job in Peru, I said yes before she was able to finish disclosing the details.

We’d be shooting two different fashion stories for Harper’s Bazaar. Working with Alma reenforced how much I valued myself. Her ability to admit each time that I had more experience was what made me imagine working together with all women sans ego. Since the photographer was a native we’d be staying in a boutique artist hotel in Lima. Taking the first days to scout, get acclimated with the people, food, music, and ocean; Lima took my breath away. Peruvian supermodel Juana Burga was in town also for a separate project and joined us for roof top aperitivi with the local creative cool kids. First up was supermodel Chanel Iman. She’d arrive at night and we’d find out later she ended up in a taxi that wasn’t the driver we sent to pick her up. I was kicking myself inside not having insisted on getting her direct contact. Your model was your star and as Fashion Editor one should have model and agent on speed dial. Never put all of your trust in the production team. They oversaw so many moving parts, better to cover your own bases. Even though traveling with notable Louis Vuitton luggages she ended up with an honest driver that didn’t try to take advantage of a tourist. We shot in Lima’s centro, and in the barrios. Divine the story was, Chanel made everything effortless. Between her, myself, and make up artist Yacine Diallo, we three Sagittarius’ kept the mood zen despite the many frustrations of location shoots.

After the first editorial wrapped, we had a few of days to relax like locals. Alma and I visited surf clubs and homes of fellow crew mates; ate fresh home cooked meals, had drinks and fresh fish beach side before dinner. I almost lost my life that last day off. Just starting to study the ocean and take surf lessons, I didn’t recognise the low tide or that no one was in the water as sun was setting. The sand sank quick with each wave that pulled back. As I dove into the rip current, waves crashing above me, the ocean wrapped around my feet, pulled me in, and flipped me backwards. I remember opening my eyes and all I could hear was the entire first 30 seconds of Pavarotti’s Ave Maria. I watched myself spin as the music echoed in the sandy water clouds. An oddly comforting peace. I’d grown up with military parents so I was trained to not panic in a panic inducing situation. There was a graceful stillness swaddled in Mother Nature’s glove. No longer in a place where I could ration with my ego, I just had to let go and stay focused on the present. At first glimpse of shoreline, instinct synced with survival mode and jolted my body forward with the current. Alma and the others had gone to visit bathrooms, make quick phone calls and grab the last round of Pilsen Callao. As I emerged from the water I had to walk up a sand hill to get back to our cute cabana, indeed this low tide wasn’t for swimmers. In a dazed shock, I sat and took a long sip of cerveza. They discussed how Lima’s coast is for the competitive pros. Madre Natura showed off her strength just moments or hours, time was a blur, before, I pinched my arm to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. The experience shook my core, left me grounded, and brought clarity in how all things work together.

Icon Missy Rayder would be the face of our second editorial. Being personal friends with much of the crew, made for balance. It’s one of the things I love most about my job, being able to travel with like minded people, creative minds, to unknown places time and time again. With Missy we would head for the desert on the ocean, Paracas. The four hour drive gave time to rest. Getting things set up for each shoot was a challenge. Alma didn’t mind how I chose to organise, she liked the idea of having looks separated in such ways, but didn’t care to know of the logistics. She didn’t over pull and with accessories she was quite the editor. Which left me dumbfounded at how things would get mixed around, stepped on, and almost lost in our fittings. I was disappointed in myself for not insisting she invest in jewellery trays. I’d been on so many of these insane locations shoots, there was always a method to the madness and that’s what made the stylist editor’s job more enjoyable. Sticking to the plan meant one could spend more time being in the experience itself. The days to follow would be a mental Kodak album of sublime mastery. I’d never seen such a glorious desert, full of lagoons and flamingos as well as volcanic rock, pink, red, and orange beaches. I allowed myself to be enchanted by the beauty before me as to not be overwhelmed with tears at how much of a mess the wardrobe situation was. Even with my checking in and resetting, things would go flying, she’d take the jewellery from each garment bag then throw them all back in one together and run back on set. Working that way — apart from how much I could judge by noting sloppy — births mistakes and broken gems. The crunch of metal under her foot left me gasping. At that point no matter what I did, we were going to have a pr nightmare upon return. In every job there are moments you least enjoy but what good would all the complaining do. I was in Peru, with so many beautiful souls, living this experience together, the frustrations mustn’t take away from the good, for what a miserable way to live if so. Our last shoot day I jumped off that desert orange clay cliff into the deep blue. Floating underwater and when I eventually came up for air, everyone was gone. I’d missed the memo we’d be racing to the other side of the cliffs shore. Absolutely alone in the middle of the ocean was quite a feeling. I yelled out, the crew came back, and we swam together.

Back in New York I gave all the jewellery to Alma. I felt safer if things were with her since there was insurance signed and I’d heard more than one metal crunch throughout those days. It wasn’t my place to tell her how to do what she was hired to do. I was ready to close this job and move forward to the next. As suspected, jewellery brands were livid, sending emails describing poorly packaged returns and the damages. In our email chain Alma asked why I’d been so careless, why I hadn’t advised her and the pr ahead of time. In retrospect I should’ve written the pr, but Alma claimed to be personal friends with the designers so how do I say your friend stepped on your jewellery in a nice way. Were my eyes playing tricks on me, was she lying with confidence. I responded truthfully, reminding Alma that I’d not personally done the jewellery returns and that she may have stepped on an earring or two. There’s nothing much to imagine afterwards. Of course she was upset I’d been so candid. I apologised, but not for telling the truth, for not having figured out a way to cover for her. When her actions made it seem she could care less to make my job easier, essentially making her job easier, I sort of threw my hands in the air. Her and I never spoke again after that job. We had mutual friends, so I’d been kept to date. A part of me was sorry to have lost a potential friendship. Peru had its challenges, regardless, we bonded, Alma really opened up to me. It was my responsibility to warn the brand before the items were returned. Was I too petty. I’d been so exhausted with having to take care of everything and her reluctance throughout the trip to contribute to making sure things weren’t lost or broken. Was I wrong for not allowing her to lie about me to a pr. After all, this was my career too. I’d taken a leap of faith walking away from all I had in Milano. Never imagining coming to work in New York City with other Europeans could be full of lies, backstabs, and coverups. I know that’s fashion many say, but I think about those sandy clouds of water, so powerful, something that shapes, reforms, and is constantly moving. How can the perpetuation of tearing other women down continue as if ultimatum within such a powerhouse of industry?