Jen Brook

“I love England in a heat wave. It's a different country. All the rules change" - there couldn’t be a better quote by author, Ian McEwan, to describe July’s Walter’s Wardrobe. Thirty two degree heat, equating to the hottest weekend of the year, replicated not only the story of Briony Tallis and her detrimental false testimony in ‘Atonement’, but also the unusually warm summer of 2008, when the film was created at Stokesay Court. 

For all those who follow events in Walter’s Wardrobe, they’ll concur that I hunt high and low for suitable locations, often driving hundreds of miles just for disappointment, with a promise that ‘it’s ok’ will never do. I keep my ears to the ground and am never not looking - online, on television, in earshot - whatever it takes. Locations can be found on the most surprising paths. So when the ten year anniversary of the movie Atonement came about, I took my chance to visit the usually closed doors of Stokesay Court, stepping into the world of a narrative I have loved since uni. 

On a mid-August day, you’d be forgiven for expecting warmth and sunshine, but at barely 15 degrees and torrential rain in the depths of Staffordshire, the open day was anything but. My location scouting journey was one of many and the difficult conditions left me squinting throughout the three hour drive, hoping and praying it would be worth it. 

Yet once I arrived, it became clear this was it. I’m not a fan of dark wood panelling, heavy floral interiors and too much of a ‘homely’ feel for photography...but on this day, I took all of it back, as I allowed the energy of Hollywood to seep around me. 

Stepping through the doors of each room gave shiver after tingle of recognition for each plot part. The upstairs corridor...and that angular turn as Briony carries ‘The Trials of Arabella’ to her mother, the nursery...and that ghastly man telling Lola she has to “bite it”... and that infamous library, post-unmentionable letter.

Scripts, cast notes, costume directive, artificial flowers and polystyrene rocks from the film, discarded (or rescued) as though they’d left only a moment ago: 

And that was that. I was sold and barely home five minutes before my first email was being sent to enquire about a possible photoshoot, only to discover the private house had never been photographed or filmed outside the movie. 

*Beam from the heavens hits the house as angels hit their highest note* aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Wardrobe exclusiiiiiiiiive! 

Fast forward a year and unbeknown to us, in the sweltering July heat, we’d brought together a videographer who was currently working with the lead role (Keira Knightly) on her latest film, the niece of the films Head of Casting, and a makeup artist whose husband had befriended with the Director, Joe Wright. Coincidences...eh, they just seem to follow me. 

A 1920s/1930s inspired cinematic experience quickly became Matilda; named as such in homage to the stained glass window bearing St Matilda - the Patron Saint of the Falsely Accused. 

Models: Emily Bailey Jay, Miriam Rodriguez Juarez, Evie Robertson & Johnny Escobar

MUAs: Olivia Morewood & Sophie Battersby

Designers: Mishi May, Joanne Fleming Design & Isobel Hind Couture

Stylist: Jen Brook

Production: Walter's Wardrobe

 Cinematography: Mike Krause at www.anarchycinema.com 

Join is in October for the final event of 2018. Save the date coming soon! 

Question: have you ever said something to a woman that was meant as a complement, but they’ve looked down, shied away or reacted with aggression? Now, imagine your cellmate saying the same thing to you, in prison. Is it still a complement? This is sexual harassment, no matter how it’s intended. 

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The first event of 2018 was my latest obsession and one that has been formulating under the surface for many months. Since the movements of #MeToo, Times Up, the Women’s Marches worldwide and the calling out of the Harvey Weinstein’s of Hollywood (and every other man who has abused his power), plus my involvement with the writing of Julia Fullerton Batten’s art book The Act (exploring the role of women and objectification in the sex industry), I’ve become alive with the endless possibilities of taking back the word feminism and the importance of using the ‘F’ word in everyday conversation. Feminism insists that the search for empowerment is nothing to be ashamed of and that it isn’t bra burning butch lesbians, brashly hating on the male species - but butch lesbians, feminine lesbians, butch hetros, feminine hetros, men and all other genders striving for respect and equality, because this, is the 21st century and we all deserve better than stereotypical persecution for the biology we exude below our waistlines. 

‘Still I Rise’, originally a poem by the late, great, Maya Angelou, became the name of the shoot we created, with a subtle nod to the people who have fought (and continue to fight) for societal change in tribute by its covert theme. 

But, why is feminism necessary and why did we link it to fashion? Without starting an essay on the enormity of this question, I’ve become inescapably curious about the language we adopt and the circumstances we choose to use it, particularly in the industries I invest in - the creative arts and the workplace. Listening to myself and those around me, I became vastly aware that it is undeniably the norm to undermine and weaken the female gender in everyday language - and we all do it, all of us without even noticing, myself included. 

Grow some balls...

Stop being a girl...

Man up...

You throw like a girl...

She’s hysterical...

She’s frumpy...

She’s frigid...

She must be hormonal...

She’s bossy, a little madam...

And the very, very worst: she’s a she-boss, a working mum (the term ‘working dad’ I’m yet to hear) and ‘he’s on babysitting duties’ when Dad looks after his own kids. 

I’ve even found myself reverting from referring to a woman as feisty, when it was pointed out to me that I’d never refer to a man by this term. Is this political correctness gone mad? I can see why the Piers Morgan’s of the world would like to think so, because we’re lazy and we don’t like change. But I don’t think so. I think it’s having a conscious culpability and an intended will to interject it into living with acceptance. Society will never move forwards, for as long as it’s standing still. I Google ‘science kit for girls’ and ‘science kit for boys’ and cringe with my findings - I encourage you to share your own examples. I try to say my female friends are funny, clever and interesting, over gorgeous, beautiful or pretty these days. 

With the 100 year anniversary of the Suffragette Movement and the legal vote taken by *some* women (that is so important to the history of my Manchester, home to Emmeline Pankhurst), it seems no better time to celebrate the F word in all her glory. I’ve stood on the ground that my ancestors met in secret, to demand their rights from those who refused to grant them, and I’ve been sexually assaulted on these same streets in the last 12 months. So, loosely inspired by the current political climate, Still I Rise became an expression of words we’ve yet unspoken and actions still to come - an anger that burns but an excitement that times are changing. 

This, the dawning of a revolution and the uprising of the subdued, where both men and women are exploring the old fight with new and persistent energy, where empowerment is back in fashion. 

The Moodboard

Traditional feminine and romantic blush tones, meets warrior gold in design, Walter’s four models rose like the first heatwave of the year, on Thursday 19th and Friday 20th April..strength, power, baroque, woman, feminine, feminism, soft, romantic, tussled, braided, fighter, independent, covert, subtle, rise, revolution, Suffragette, growth, bloom, battle, femme fatale...

The Team 

Cinematography: Richard Wakefield  Models: Ceci Zhang, Stefanie Nieuwenhuyse, Liv Free, & Bethany Bennett MUAs: Livvy Morewood & Sarah Gray Designers: Joanne Fleming Design, HF Couture and Accessories & Donna Graham Stylist: Jen Brook Production: Walter’s Wardrobe

** Join us for the next event, on Saturday 7th or Sunday 8th July, in Shropshire, £400. Places on sale Tuesday 5th June 8pm ** 

It’s been several years since I sat here with my laptop; earphones turned to max, music pouring its way through my emotive veins at an undetermined time of the darkened morning. Curtains closed, alarm set for shortly. Here I am. 

Oh, jetlag, you. 

When was your year? My sister and I spent last weekend reminiscing our short lives and the possibility of a self defining year, ‘the year of you’...so far. She said mine was 2013 and I agreed. I sharply exited an 8 year relationship that was never destined to survive the adult world and as I left it behind, I grew as a model and a person in every way. 

I discovered a new world beyond my own doorstep; venturing to the big smoke alone, touring for the first time and stretching tiny wings that soon saw flights to Montreal and L.A. solo - I barely recognised the brave adventurer I’d become. I made three of the greatest creative friends I’ll ever have - Brooke, Ben and Devin. I started urban exploring with a friend from my past who allowed me to talk uninterrupted and bleed my sadness out into abandoned uncharted buildings, that echoed my feelings back. I approached brands to seek out successful work and I networked day and night using a project I later called Dreamcatcher, to grow. I got angry at badger cullers and dolphin trainers, and I made sure everybody knew. Yes, 2013 was my year; the year I became more than the silent clotheshorse. 

Reviewing my blog archive, it seems that by February 2014, I was ready...and I found my Matchmaker man. For those who followed the 10.5 episode series, you’ll know that the story concluded (in blog form) with our first night spent together. Fourteen months later (and three years to this very day), we had our own home - two deckchairs, two mugs, a lamp, a plant and a mattress on the floor to our name. And now four years on...we’re here again, with another chapter to my unwritten autobiography. 

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October 2017 - my heroine, P!nk, announced her Beautiful Trauma Tour - the 14th time I would see her. With European dates still dwindling in the distance, he said “let’s do NYC”...and I didn’t wait to be asked twice. So, we saved and saved and treated ourselves to five nights in an art deco themed tower on Park Avenue, with a rooftop that overlooks the Empire State. 

Straight through to April...it was time. 

We arrived late, Saturday 31st March. Having barely slept for a full day, we crashed hard and awoke the next morning to patchy skies, overlooking the city like no other’ the city that never sleeps. Three wonderful days soon flew by, visiting the usual tourist hotspots and cooking up a storm of steps around the concrete jungle of 60 miles on foot. 

Wednesday, 11pm and we were walking home from Madison Square Garden - with me still singing ‘So What’ as he clutched the Starbucks crushed cake we’d forgotten from his pocket. 

“So, so what?! I’m still a rockstar! I got my rock moooooooves and I don’t neeeeeed you! And guess what? I’m having more fun, now that we’re done. I’m gonna show you, tonight...” my voice echoed quietly into the Subways that filled the ground. 

We were only six blocks away as we marched the path back to our hotel upon newly dried pavement, after a few days of undecided showers and a flurry of deep overnight snow. Blinded by the glare of Times Square and the flashing lights of the Big Apple cabs, stars above were completely invisible, but on such a perfectly clear night of perfectly wonderful happiness, I knew they were up there somewhere, looking down. 

Drunk on Pink, high on life, I was skipping all the way home. All of my favourite things in one place together - NYC, Matchmaker and a 5ft 4 superstar, who’s unknowingly been there, in my life, all along. 

We hurried through the glassed porch entrance of the hotel, greeted by the perfume of elegance that they pump into the lobby - something I’ll always remember; an essence that screams ‘we go the extra mile, don’t forget us’. 

Ten floors up, we were ‘home’. 

“Turn around, I’ve got a present for you” he said, as I ventured my way into the bathroom. “Hurry up then” I badgered, “I need a wee”. Knowing it would be the lemon drizzle he was speaking about less than a split second before, I span around and.....whaaaaaaat?! There he was, down on one knee, a sparkling diamond glistened in the tungsten light above the bed.

“Will you marry me?”

....”Are you serious?? Oh my god, I don’t understand! Do you mean it??”

I battled through the salty water that appeared in a single blink, blurring my vision. I stumbled to greet him on the carpeted cream coloured floor. Still spilling sweet nothings into the sweet smelling air, we landed in a soggy heap, me holding his crumpled shirt tightly, pulling back only to stare at him and cry more. 

“I wanted to do this last year. I knew when we walked onto Main St at Disney and you burst into tears, that ‘this’ was the moment I was meant to do it...but I didn’t know it ‘til then and I didn’t have a ring! I started searching for places in Florida and thinking of how to get you one. I panicked! I’m sorry it’s not as perfect as last summer, but I know how much you love Pink and this seemed like a good second. You’re my world, my best friend and I don’t ever want to be without you. I want to marry you...I’m presuming this is a yes, right...right?”

I was frantically nodding, still sobbing, still listening, still staring into those emerald eyes I’d fallen for four years ago, gleaming rocks in a box still clutched between my sweaty palms. 

“So when Pink announced this tour, I knew I’d do it in New York. But our first day here was April Fools Day...and you were complaining that your bum was hurting on the bike ride...and you were a total zombie with no sleep - so it couldn’t have been there. Then it snowed...and then it rained...and we fell out because you had wet feet! We’ve had such a good holiday, haven’t we? But there wasn’t a moment that stood out. I’m sorry it’s happened in a hotel room, I wanted to do it in Central Park, but it wasn’t right...” he waffled on. 

“Shut up you idiot! This is the most perfect day ever!” I screamed in his face, sliding the shimmering sparkles onto my left hand. My ears were still ringing with the sounds of Madison Square Garden and nobody was looking at me, but him. It was everything I’ve ever wanted. 

We were still intertwined on the floor, holding each other tightly, laughing through choked up tears about the fact he had been carrying the ring around for five whole days, waiting impatiently - narrowly avoiding the most inappropriate proposal ever, when security at the 9/11 memorial museum asked him to turn out his pockets on arrival. 

So, here you go. Here I am. Here ‘we’ are. 

Four years on and you were there from the start...that first blog about our first date and our more than coincidental meeting; all those moments of serendipity that brought us together. I’ve come home from America in the best kind of daze and can’t stop looking at it...at him, and squeezing my eyes so tightly shut with gratitude that I finally got it - someone who shares my happiness, who loves me through my faults and who supports me in everything that I do. I love him so very much. 

I love him and now, I’ll be his wife...Mrs Matchmaker. 

Ten things we should teach in schools: 

- Nutritional value: which foods contain fibre, fat, protein, iron etc. How counting calories isn’t basic maths, because a 100 calorie biscuit isn’t the same as a 100 calorie apple. Who’d guess that full fat is actually healthier than low fat, because the fat is replaced with sugar?! Projects reviewing sugar addiction, how much sugar is sneakily slipped into savoury foods like cooking sauces and cereal, plus the bureaucracy behind it. 

- Real cooking: how to prepare ten healthy meals, from scratch, on a low budget. School did nothing for my culinary skills. Thank God for the internet...that allowed me to find my kitchen genius boyfriend. 

- Waste and throwaway culture: basic sewing skills, how to change a lightbulb/fuse/tyre, reducing plastic usage, recycling and the environment. 

- Sex ed (or some variation of it) well BEFORE the age of 16: an introduction to gender, consent and puberty from primary school. Sexual harassment, sexual assault, STIs, STDs and contraception from high school, with an understanding of nudity and the arts. The difference between gender and sexual orientation - a transgender woman with a boyfriend is not gay. Prudish attitudes and lesser understandings of ‘taboo’ gets us nowhere. 

- Hate crime and the 6 strands: the history, philosophy and ethics of equal rights, with criminology case studies of system failure and extended prison sentences. Why we celebrate liberation e.g. Pride, Black History Month and feminism. The ironic correlation between Hitler = bad (because of his anti-semitic propaganda), and current government policies worldwide. How to safely challenge through bystander intervention and the concept of ‘mate hate’. 

- Politics: a unbiased history of each of the parties and what they stand for today, with current policies explained in detail. Involving recent news and healthy debate encouraged in class. How to identify fake news, bias reporting and the effects of sharing it as fact. How to vote and why we should. 

- Banking: how to open a bank account, an introduction to interest rates, what APR means, the dangers and necessities of credit cards and credit rating, loans, mortgages, pension schemes, insurance and when you need it. 

- Effects of social media and staying safe online: recognising grooming, bullying, narcissism and identity theft. Networking, buisness promotion, SEO and vlogging/blogging. Plus the reliability of clickbait and ‘going viral’. 

- Dental hygiene: after a recent discussion with a dentist, it was revealed that less than half of us brush twice a day and brushing properly is an acquired skill learned only from a handful of parents. 

- The arts: trips to FREE museums and galleries with child friendly tours, giving the subject some meaning. Colour theory, composition and concept. Mood boarding. Music, reading, writing, performance, production, design, poetry etc. An all mighty emphasis on the relation of mental health, self expression and salvation with the arts and their undeniable equality to traditional topics in school. 

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No amount of education or training is ever a waste, perhaps the 1815-1846 Corn Laws I spent years learning, will be relevant to my career choice one day. Yet, I cannot help feeling I’d have been far better prepared for LIFE, had I been taught some of the above at school. Respect handed to those teachers still sticking it out, hating teaching kids to pass exams instead of handing them life skills. 

Five miles of hallways and a room for every day of the year, in this maze of Walter’s Wardrobe, danced the decadent dolls... 

It was once a countryside regal retreat, but the grandeur soon faded after the Second World War, when coal was at an all time low. The glorious grounds were ripped up to ‘rebuild Britain’ and the house stood marooned on an island of monstrous mine pits. Even now, the effects of this necessity are evident...the house has clearly subsided, leaving cracks throughout the enormous plastered walls. In fact, evidence lies on a set of double doors; one handle four inches lower than the other. Every building Walter’s Wardrobe visits, is shrouded in a series of unfortunate events...and this one was no different from any other. 

It may seem impossible to stumble across the largest house in Europe, yet to most, it remains a hidden gem amongst white roses. So, when I snatched a rumours whiff that the house had just sold to a conservation trust, I knew that it was now or never to go back. You see, up to this point, I had never intended to return to a venue we had already used. I relish in the Narnia-like magic of the Wardrobe doors opening only in new locations - a mystery to all, where would be next. Yet, the more I toyed with the idea, the more I became willing to take a chance on a hunch that it'd be worth it; returning to a location that stole my heart. 

As we walked between the crumbling corridors last summer, I couldn't help but feel the venue deserved another vibe. Bathed in Baroque was perfect for the gold and ornate interior design encrusted on the walls...but, so could an ethereal look. So, one last time, we were going back and this time with additional new rooms to play in. 

The decision was made and planning began with a list of priorities:

Different models: the four dolliest, delectable models one can source...Ivory Flame, Ayla Rose, Jaye Yip, Rebecca Cordell - check. 

Different styling...grey, white, ragged, torn; as far from the baroque golds we had already embellished. Rosie Red Corsetry & Couture with her brand new whimsical collection ‘Wanderlust’ ideal - check. 

Alternative view...change the repeat of a preloved location in any way possible. Furniture sold, carpets ripped up, sets designed - check, check check.

The process of gathering a Pinterest board has become standard to any Walter’s Wardrobe event, and perhaps my most favourite of parts. Once we have a location, I can begin about the theme. Then, the theme can dictate the styling. Once we have styling, the models then follow, determined by the measurements available. Whimsical, ethereal and fanciful in feature, the theme became the style I live and breathe. 

Process: location --> theme --> styling --> moodboard --> model casting 

The Moodboards

Like a dusty moth to the Ivory Flame, a model draped in cobwebs, complete with antenna and complementary makeup. Aside from being an absolute sweetheart (who carries herself with such perfected poise, that I’ve wanted to meet her for many years), with a likeness to British supermodel Lily Cole, Ivory Flame was the first model I thought of for our family doll, with the following mini moodboard made for the design team. 

Dusty Moth: 

(Below) Photographer: Panikos Hajistilly:

(Below) Photographer: Paul InFocus 

(Below) BTS by Bentham Imaging

The second look was made for the vibrant Ayla Rose. Ayla joined Walter’s Wardrobe last year as a photographer, but this Duracell Bunny is no one trick pony, pulling shapes you can’t begin to imagine; modelling fitness to art nude like no other. Ayla’s ability to dance en pointe, leant itself to the depiction of elegance and purity - that of the whitest of white British birds. I later purchased a pot swan and real ostrich egg, to compliment the look. 

Swan Song: 

(Below) Photographer: Bob Pursley:

BTS by Bentham Imaging

Having seen Rosie Red’s fabulous new ‘Wanderlust’ collection, with elements of her ‘Wild Flowers’ series I so adored, I knew the style would look fabulous on Asian model, Jaye Yip. I had been trying to pin Jaye for many months and was always disappointed to learn she was travelling between Hong Kong and the UK when I needed her. I was ecstatic to finally have her representing the rag doll that I knew she would play so well. Kudos especially to Donna Graham, whose commissioned headpiece complimented the costuming so well. 

Rag Doll: 

(Below) Photographer: Simon Ng:

BTS by Bentham Imaging 

Finally but not least, my most favourite styling belonged to the delightful Rebecca Cordell. Auzzie born but Chorley bred, we had known of each other for some time, but never met. Ships in the night, our paths would now cross, having admired her Tilda Swinton face from afar and fabulous hair modelling in particular. She would represent the ocean waves from toe to tip. 

Boaty McBoatface:

(Below) Photographer: Ferhan Khan:

(Below) Photographer: Richard Wakefield 

BTS by Bentham Imaging 

An additional treat came in the form of meeting Rosie Red, whose work I have followed for so long. She travelled all the way from Oxford especially for our shoot, her dresses in tow with compliments. We also worked with freshly graduated fine art students, Tiffany and Rob, who designed the boat exactly as I envisioned...and Sarah of Pom Pom Studio, who created the incredible oversized paper flowers from scratch (one of which stands proudly in my front room, as a reminder of a fabulous event) - thank you to those who listened to my bizarre requests and created them with such perfection! 

What’s next within Walter’s Wardrobe? 

Walter invites you to dine with him...join 4 new faces, 3 loyal MUAs, 1 new costume designer and 1 set designer, Sunday 8th and/or Monday 9th in Staffordshire, £350 each. 

Places available from 8pm BST, this Wednesday (23/8/17). 

Please message me via Facebook or email via www.jenbrook.com with any questions and queries before Wednesday evening and I will answer all enquires before sales release begins. 

Join the Walter’s Wardrobe Facebook group to see more BTS images from previous shoots and to learn which models will join us this October!  

Hope to see you there! 

(Below) Photographer: Richard Wakefield 

Thank you SO much to each and every photographer who joined us this time and to the incredible team who work so tirelessly under pressure.

All credit to the outstanding team of Walter’s Wardrobe:

Models: Ivory Flame, Ayla Rose, Jaye Yip and Rebecca Cordell. 

MUAs: Olivia Morewood, Sophie Battersby and Abigail Pulleyn.

MUA Assistant: Rachel Doig.

Designer: Rosie Red Corsetry. 

Millinery and Styling Assistant: Donna Graham.

Giant Flower & Pom Pom Design: Pom Pom Studio UK 

Giant Boat Design: Tiffany Maksymow & Rob Kirby 

Behind the Scenes Photographer: Bentham Imaging. 

Behind the Scenes Cinematographer: Richard Wakefield.

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What is a best friend? Someone who makes you laugh, without trying? Cheers you up, when the rain is pouring? Shares food, without caring? Shows affection, without speaking? Is a best friend someone you feel so much love for, that every inch of pain, you feel together?

My furriest friend arrived in the form of a secondhand Syrian. His oversized ears and off-centre stripe, made his imperfections all the more perfect. As pen touched paper, certifying his adoption to the fam, we made a commitment to make his life the very best it could be, with an agreement to always try with a pinch of hope. We took a chance on a stranger with a nipper reputation...a defamation that couldn’t be more wrong. 

To my tiny best bud, I'm sorry you spent your first few weeks sharing an empty bath tub with a human and a dry toothbrush, being poked. I swear my intentions were only good. You were such an anxious, timid, little thing, but I knew there was a confidence hiding within you. I’m sorry your first owners were too lazy and missed that. 

Fast forward a few weeks and we’d turned a new corner - happy as a hammy in plain spaghetti. Climbing the wardrobes and throwing yourself from the top, or cuddled with your BFF’s; the Neals. How many people have a toilet trained ham? And not once, your entire 2.5 year life; never ever, ever, was I bitten. 

Being free range is the only kind of life for any kind of animal and I promised that you'd be no different. We’re still sliding out bare flat feet room to room tonight..just in case you pop up. 

You were free range for a reason but you gave me faith that you were happy at home; putting yourself to bed every morning. With your cage door shut at 8am, you knew it would reopen 8pm. I trusted you and you trusted us, right to the absolute end.

You may have cost me one pair of pants, one football shirt, one carpet, two Iphone chargers and three vet bills; but to have your teeny tiny life as a significant chapter in mine, was and always will be, priceless. 

We’re now five events into Walter’s Wardrobe, with the creaky doors opening in no less than one abandoned Victorian theatre, one gothic castle and three stately homes from various periods. But what really happens behind the wooden doors? As ‘Ruffles & Ready’ took the stage this April, I thought it was about time I explained what goes on within the Wardrobe... 

Who is this elusive Walter character and what’s with his Wardrobe? 

Walter is my big black tom. Hand reared from weeks old, but born to a farm cat stray, his questionable manners and anger management leave plenty to be desired. Yet there is something irresistible about him. He owns my heart, like my passion for fashion and no matter how much stress he causes, he has an innate ability of sucking me back in. Always. 

As for the wardrobe; the concept derives from the imagination of C.S. Lewis and his magical knotty pine that endorsed my childhood. As the wardrobe doors open, photographers are invited to step through the doors of reality, wade past the fur coats of normality and straight into a new kind of Narnia, shooting models in couture costume at alluring locations. 

How did Walter’s Wardrobe begin?

The thing with the Wardrobe, is that it was never meant to be. I’m a qualified writer turned model, now working in a 9-5 office occupation. Hosting fashion shoots for photographers, was never my original agenda. Yet, as I tried to leave, I found myself bathing in reluctance. 

I knew gorgeous models, great makeup artists, exquisite designers, fascinating locations...and a persistent desire to be involved. I don’t want to be a photographer, but I do want to make photographs. 

Walter’s Wardrobe represents a natural progression; from wannabe model, to wannabe stylist and event planner. Nothing more, nothing less. 

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Ruffles & Ready

After 2016′s autumn production, House of Two Halves, it was set to be a comfortable six month break for Christmas...or so it would seem. The final cracker had barely been pulled before location scouting began once again. Plans for April were imminent; Ruffles & Ready was coming. 

The venue needed to follow my strict criteria: an essence of opulence, a bit of baroque, ornate with an abundance of history. Locations with whispering walls are the places that call to me...and this one, most certainly did. 

Haunted by the ghosts of the past, once again I stumbled across this location through the tragic historical stories that consume my imagination. This time, entranced by the story of two nineteenth century female photographers, who twirled in front of a lit fireplace. I learned that their creole dresses accidentally caressed the naked flames in the library...and they burnt to death, where they’d danced with nobody watching. A harrowing tale of such heartbreaking coincidence, this story could not remain a secret from the photographers within Walter’s Wardrobe. 

Not only this, but the tale of Disraeli’s parrot was a key influence in the styling of the titled production ‘Ruffles & Ready’. The exotic bird was gifted to the Lady of the house by our former Tory Prime Minister of the 1870s. Presumed male, he was a finely feathered masculine beauty....until the day she laid 23 eggs in 24 days and promptly dropped dead in her cage. Although considered another tragic tale, the dark comedy of this story became me - yet another example of how life imitates art. I had to have this venue. 

You may have recognised her taxidermy body, as the ‘save the date’ notice: 

Her sorry story influenced the creation of the below image, captured by Richard Wakefield, featuring the 23 eggs that sorely killed her.  

So the hunt for yellow ruffles began - not a common colour inline with my usual themes, but one that undoubtedly had to pay homage to our 137 year old deceased feathered friend. 

With the tale of the two girls and the long perished parrot in my mind, inspiration and planning was freshly underway. So when I explained the story behind the search for yellow, to one of the hardest working designers I know, Mishi May kindly offered to create a brand new design especially for us. The addition of Mickey Mouse inspired ears to this outfit, was a cheeky nod to my upcoming birthday; a fortnight in DisneyWorld Orlando in no less than a dozen days from now; paid for entirely by the attendees of 5 Walter’s Wardrobe events, allowing me to reach a lifetime goal of 5 year old me. The Mickey ears remain one of my favourite looks for this reason - a commissioned product produced by Donna Graham. 

A loose rendition of 1950s/Wes Anderson bellboy inspiration, en pointe with makeup and hair by Sophie Battersby (left edit by Znapps): 

Nicky Mouse, better known as Nicky Phillips, working the Hollywood look: 

Image above by Richard Wakefield (MUA: Sophie Battersby). 

Nicky looked equally as fabulous on day one, sporting an oversized Sia homage head bow, designed by Donna Graham, with hair and makeup by Livvy Morewood. Short fashion film below by Laurent Baumann: 

Following hints of bird-like Nicky, the animal theme was continued by model number two, Jodi Lakin; loosely labelled our ‘Silver Fox’ for her natural beauty reminiscent of actress, Rachel Weisz, and the heavily embellished metallic design of her dress.

Likeness uncanny. Left image of Jodi, by photographer, Panikos Hajistilly:  

Like most of the looks featured in this production, this dress was a brand new addition to the latest Mishi May collection - made especially to meet our request dates, with an additional ruffled sleeve to fit the theme. I cannot express how hard Mishi May has worked on each and every stitch, ruffle and embellishment to create such jaw droppingly incredible designs at such short notice for us - designs that we were so lucky to shoot before anybody else. I highly recommended her on every level of talent and professionalism, plus genuine loveliness to top it off.

Basking in the light. Image by Znapps: 

Next, we had our ultimate ruffle wonder look, (nicknamed ‘Dirty Duck Egg’ due to its colour) worn by supertrooper, Victoria Coutts. Victoria is a full time model and actress who recently completed a three month job costumed in a gut constricting corset. Unfortunately, the traditional female attire left her ribs fractured at the sternum some weeks later. So what did we dress her in? Another corset! Fearless Victoria assured us she was ok to work, however regular top ups of painkillers behind the scenes depicts what absolute superstars Walter’s Wardrobe models are - dedicated to the moment without complaint, every time.  

Victoria’s look is inspired by the theme of the event ‘Ruffles & Ready’ and really was the showstopper of this production. £11.5k worth of layered tulle dripping from her tightly cinched waist, was without a doubt a wow moment, as it took 3 pairs of hands to transport this gown from set to set for the photographers. 

Victoria in the library with a book...image by Bentham Imaging: 

‘Dirty duck’ was accompanied by a further nod, this time to the current season. Sporting Easter bunny ears on day one, the look was accompanied by inspirations of gothic bride millinery; classic of Donna Graham’s unique sense of style, collaborated with the ethereal pale pastels that I adore, on day two. I don’t think I have a favourite between the two looks for the two days and that is why I love working with Donna!  

Silvery tones make a picture perfect palette, image created by Jo Rutherford: 

Finally, came the simplest, but my favourite look of all: our sugar plum puffball, Polish princess - Kamila.  

Puffball moodboard (fact of the day - I modelled at the location featured top left, by Tim Walker, for one of Brooke Shaden’s brilliant UK retreat events...yes, I did stroke the walls): 

Heavily inspired by works of the iconic Tim Walker, Kamila’s look leant itself to the surroundings of nature, with hints of the seasoned cherry blossom/magnolia trees, plus the available theme of extensive ruffles. Her long slender legs created an ideal of the look I was aiming for - complemented by pom poms situated on her toes. 

Height was everything for this look, wonderfully captured by Jo Rutherford, with china doll-like hair and makeup, by Abigail Pulleyn: 

One of my favourite things about the Wardrobe, is that it’s not a workshop - there is no teaching, so there’s no style to replicate and most importantly of all; no egos to please. Yes, the model/makeup/costuming/location is provided, but each photographer creates their own series, meaning everyone comes away with their own shots. 

A visionary treat; creative creation by photographer, Mark Legge: 

I’m not sure if I can claim the event to be a success just yet, I guess you’d have to ask the photographers about that. What I can say, is that the event went better than ever expected and I am extremely happy with the results. If that’s considered a success, then so be it! 

A huge thank you goes out to all those who stepped within the Wardrobe this time, making it another sell out event. If you would like to join the next production in July, join the Walter’s Wardrobe Facebook group for first access to information here. You can also follow the work of the photographers here. 

All credit to the outstanding team of Walter’s Wardrobe: 

Models: Nicky Phillips, Jodi Lakin, Victoria Coutts and Kamila Nowak.

MUAs: Olivia Morewood, Sophie Battersby and Abigail Pulleyn.

MUA Assistant: Rachel Doig. 

Designer: Mishi May.

Millinery and assistant stylist: Donna Graham.

Behind the Scenes Cinematographer: Richard Wakefield. 

BTS Video by the brilliant Richard Wakefield. 

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Artist statement on The Act project: click

HERE

Chloe and Ella, Slaves Dripping in steel chains that clang upon even the slightest of movements and a collar that connotes ownership, Chloe Davies and Ella Hughes appear bound by some aggressive force of unwillingness...yet the truth could not be further from it. Aged 23, Chloe met her partner Lisa in the ‘vanilla’ dating scene in 2012. However, soon discussions developed into the alternative lifestyle of BDSM; bondage, dominance, sadism and masochism, investigating the realms of discipline and submission. Whilst Lisa was quick to express her desire for the dominant lead, with an honest admittance for the often over-controlling role in past relationships, this confession of power lust did not deter Chloe. Instead, she was compelled to embrace it. Chloe is a lifestyle slave to her dominant. After several months of collar wearing and submissive behaviour, whereby she adopts a slave number instead of a name, the couple began talks of owning another girl between them. *Enter stage left….Ella*. Four years since her submissive rebirth, Chloe remains a lifestyle slave to her dominant. But more recently, she acts as sister slave to 20 year old Ella, first found through a fetish website. After a couple of months of contact with the pair, Ella decided she wasn’t dedicated enough to the BDSM community and went to university to study law. However, six months after refusing the offer, she regained contact with the lesbian duo, realising that the BDSM world and fetish modelling was her home. “Being a sex slave is about living how the dominant dictates.” Chloe says. “Nothing is set. We roll with how her mood is, as and when. That includes clothes, food; how we eat, when we eat...when we go to the bathroom...or not. The initiation process is bigger than a wedding in ways. We look at the collar like a marriage ring.” To most, the initiation process itself is truly mind blowing. To earn the collar, is what many would consider the most uncomfortable and bizarre part of sex slavery. Of course they vary slave to slave, based on the choices of the dominant. But for Chloe, it involved being boxed up with her head in the ground and just an air hole to breathe, where men were then able to do whatever they pleased to her. This unusual process is unique to say the least and although she describes the experience as traumatic at the time, she admits she felt “amazing” afterwards. Taking pleasure in pleasing her dominant, by giving her body to prove her devotion, allows the dominant to enjoy the mental anguish over the physical with her. The relationship between the trio is evidently more than just sexual desires and a need to feel owned and submissive. The more the pair open up to us, the more obvious it is that their entire connection is based on mutual understanding and trust; a bond far deeper than most ‘vanillas’. “Our dom knows our limits, so a safe word isn’t necessary any more. I describe myself as pan-sexual but I prefer women” says Chloe. “But my sexual orientation is determined by my dom. Yeah ok I’m not always in the mood for what she wants when she wants it, but I push through and I realise I love it more when I do. I would have missed out on that in a vanilla lifestyle. It’s not rape - it’s always safe, sane and consensual. I take a great deal of satisfaction by pleasing her.” Chloe is submissive to their joint dominant (Lisa), yet dominant to Ella as her sister slave. But says she loves them both very much in different ways. “It’s not as much about sex as you would think, more about the mentality and emotions. The sexual pleasure is an added bonus - it’s a lifestyle and you wouldn’t expect to have sex all the time in a vanilla relationship, so it’s no different here. The 50 Shades of Grey fad is more of a bedroom game, this is more how we live every day. The dominant has sex with both of us or we’ll do a performance for her if she wants. So for example, predicament bondage - where we’re tied together and rigged to the ceiling, putting stress on each other’s bodies. If either of us move, it can cause suffering to the other. So it’s about working together not to cause increased pain. I (Chloe) am naturally quite nurturing, so I try to take the discomfort where I can for Ella.” Of course the concept of the sex slave lifestyle is quite difficult for the vanilla mind to comprehend. Especially when even the sleeping arrangements are not open for debate and are determined only by that of the dominant. “Sometimes we’re all in the same bed, sometimes in a cage, sometimes on the floor. There’s no routine and that’s exactly how we like it” Ella says. “We don’t get paid. There is no shift end. We’re here because we want to be. There’s comfort in being owned and submissive. That’s all there is to it”. When it comes to general living, they pool all their money. But where it is spent is decided only by the dominant. Chloe has been mother to their children for last 4 years and maintains that role, whereas Ella is known as a ‘friend’ who lives with them. The pair make it clear that they don’t mix the privacy of their sex lives with the kids, preferring to promote alternative lifestyles as socially acceptable to them. So, although they don’t walk around gagged in chains, they make it known to the youngsters that there are deviations in life to be explored and not rejected with judgement. “You should always try to explore interests so you’re not missing out, it can be very fulfilling and liberating. I don’t feel like I have to act a certain way to society, yet ironically, I do to my dominant!” As the pair stand before us explaining their unusual and unique way of life, we realise that their choices really are a physical expression of devotion between three females. There is trust, understanding, real care and above all else - love. What may seem unusual to the vanilla in us all, is quite simply an education of the extraordinary in all variations to these girls. 

Writer: Jen Brook

Photographer: Julia Fullerton Batten

From the internationally published art series, The Act, 2016.  

Artist statement on The Act project: click

HERE

Jaye Rose: Webcam Girl Unlike most of the girls we interviewed, Jaye Rose has been right to the rim of the sex worker black hole and climbed back out of it again. What began as topless glamour modelling and advanced into nude, then open leg work, Jaye was struggling with her costly new life style in London. On the verge of becoming penniless, she began shooting top shelf magazine work, girl/girl eroticism, followed by hard-core porn. With an all too true story of what already sounds like the start of a porno, we asked Jaye what it means to be an adult sex worker living in the UK and why she has since given it up for new things. “What’s it like to have sex with a stranger? Just like a weekend night out really!” she titters whilst hiding a cheeky red face behind her hands. “No, no, that’s awful isn’t it! I shouldn’t say that, ha ha. What I mean is; when you’ve done it once, I don’t think it doesn’t make much difference to do it twice or more. You get to meet them beforehand and stuff. I dunno. I’ve never really thought about it that way. It’s fine really. You chat, you do stuff, then you shake your washed hands and go home”. But of course what the audience sees and what the participants experience are two separate spectrum stories of their own. “I very rarely achieve an orgasm on set. In fact, I’d go so far as to say barely ever. You do stuff that’s visually appealing for the camera rather than for yourself physically. So it isn’t really as pleasurable as it might seem.” In a parallel similarity to the lie we’re led to believe, it seems that not all of the world’s sex workers love their job. Female porn-stars are generally one of the few higher paid occupations in comparison to men, but Jaye tells us that her experience of the industry did not provide the sense of empowerment to which so many others claim to allude. “We get paid more than the men. But that depends on the level of professionalism, because there’s not really a big porn industry here in the UK. I mean, I’d go so far as to say that a lot of blokes are doing it for a day out and a free shag really. How is that empowering? In fact, some probably only get their travel paid. We [women] definitely get more, but it’s not as much as people think.” Upon discovering her daughter’s line of work, Jaye’s mum quickly offered to re-mortgage her house to ‘rescue’ her from the porno community - an offer that Jaye refused to accept and still claims is a “bit of a sore subject” within the family. “I was at a point in my life, a couple of years ago, when I needed the cash and although I’m pretty strong willed and level headed, I regret a lot of what I let myself get into...especially now that I have another life and spend a lot of time trying to cover up traces of my hidden past.” In later years it became apparent that ‘sex with strangers’ was no longer Jaye’s cup of tea, as she digressed into web-camming for a quick quid. However, even that spurred no great appeal or desire to continue, as she admits, her newfound laziness pointed only towards her future fading out of the industry. “I met a few people who got me into TV and then web-camming. Then not long after, I realised I could make better money without even leaving my house, so I started doing webcam work through a website that takes a percentage cut. I considered it as my full time job, but in reality it was a lot less hours than what most people would consider full time...and most times I barely got dressed. Men log onto the website, then when it shows you are online, they can click to dial you - then they’re charged to chat. Nine times out of ten they didn’t want to just talk, they want to see you strip or use toys or something like that. But because I’m a bit of a chatterbox and I realised I didn’t really enjoy the whole process anyway, I would be able to keep them talking for a while so people felt like they were getting more, without actually seeing that much. I was very lazy with it...doing it in my pyjamas, or whatever I was wearing at the time, because I couldn’t be bothered. I soon realised it didn’t make much difference what I was wearing or how much effort I made in my appearance, because they only wanted to see what was underneath anyway.” Financially, porn and web-camming became less lucrative for Jaye as time went on, without rhyme or reason. Perhaps the market has become oversaturated, or quite simply there is an abundance of online content available now, that unless there is a requirement for a unique fetish or niche interest, we simply don’t really need to look very far to view sex for free. “People aren’t going to pay a couple of quid a minute to speak to you, when they can watch you online for nothing.” Jaye says. So as the sex work fizzled out and Jaye’s interest became less and less, she ventured into the wide world in search of a career plan. “I always hated the term ‘career’ when doing porn because it was never my choice really. I got into it for all the wrong reasons. Ok, nobody forced me into it, but a career is a job you pursue and have an interest in progressing - sex work was never about that for me. It wasn’t empowering and I didn’t enjoy it, so I got out as soon as I could.” With the weird and wonderful desires of the general public, the experiences of Jaye Rose have at least provided her with a hilariously comic and eye- opening account of her life as ‘an almost porn star’ - memoirs that have allowed her to write a personal blog that continues to entertain a new captive audience today. She reels off bizarre fetishes like a shopping list, built up from encounters of her porn days; “shower caps, hair washing, rings...like, actual finger rings….oh, one man asked me to cook and eat a turkey once. Another one pretended he’d been run over by a car and another said he was a flower - I don’t know if it’s just me, but I have seen some very odd ones. Fetishes that you couldn’t even guess where they’d got it from. But apparently men can get off on just about anything.” As Jaye gently sways her hips from side to side, pondering each question we pose to her, we can’t help but dare to wonder what her feelings towards men have become - in the hope that her distaste from past work, has not clouded her judgement of an entire gender. “I think people expect you to come out of sex work very bitter towards men and hating them all, but I don’t. I obviously ended it with no appreciation for the ones who blatantly didn’t respect me, but the feeling is very mutual there. But on the whole I guess you can’t come out of that kind of life-style without a slightly warped view of men. I don’t hate them, I really don’t. But maybe I don’t really trust them either, because I know deep down they run on their base desires and basic instinct. But there again I’m not really one for dating or men in my life, so it’s not really been a huge hardship.” Unlike most of the sex workers we’ve encountered thus far, from strippers, erotic dancers, fellow porn-stars and escorts, Jaye is the first to have been through it all to the other side. She is not damaged, or desperate or jaded in any way and in fact is quite a character with strong will and wit. Her openness and honesty about her unique journey is one we won’t forget, as we continue to follow her progression as a new era approaches. A new chapter in the eye-opening open book of Jaye Rose – ‘The Almost Pornstar’. 

Writer: Jen Brook

Photographer: Julia Fullerton Batten

From the internationally published art series, The Act, 2016.  

Artist statement on The Act project: click HERE

Cathy Keen, Lapdancer

With seventeen years’ experience under her rhinestone bikini belt, Cathy Keen’s interpretation of female power leaves us questioning what society has taught us. The thirty-six year old began erotic dancing in order to pay university fees. However nearly two decades on and with regular clients forming lasting bonds (so much, that she has met a few of their wives), she says that the choice to work in the sex industry is what defines feminism; she is not a victim of force.

Cathy tells us of the underground world, that despite dipping in and out of for many years, has never truly left her. As a property developer for three years, boasting a bachelor's degree to her name, brains and drive are not something Ms Keen lacks. Yet the flexible hours, generous wage and supportive family-like environment of the strip club can never be quite matched by the unsatisfying normality of the 9-5 corporate world.

She recalls the beginnings of her dancing days derived from casual hostessing; “We drink with customers and take commission from their bill so they don’t feel like they’re paying for our company.” Whilst it sounds all champagne on ice and wild parties to us, Cathy explains the psyche of the club’s clients, the relationship with her regulars and the role she has acquired as an unqualified therapist.

“In between these four walls...” *points to the black paint between the glistening coloured spotlights of the dark club* “...I connect with people in a way I cannot beyond that steel door. I can slide underneath the exterior shell we build up in the ‘real’ world. You’re automatically unarmed inside here”.

The plot thickens.

“My job specification isn’t just dancing and stripping. I’m a listener; an agony aunt. I am a constant companion to those who feel alone. I’m not going anywhere or too bored to listen. I’m an outside ear who can provide support and comfort. As a dancer, it’s not like escorting because we can’t fulfill those who come here with sexual frustrations. We just tease and we help those who want to be heard. I actually prefer international rules, which means there can be physical, but not sexual contact. That way I can sit on the client and get close - and as long as they’re respectful of boundaries, you can connect on a deeper level that way; something that truly lends something else to the experience. It’s not graphic, more sensual actually.”

As an advocate for ‘international rules’, we feel obliged to ask the question if Cathy feels attracted to her clients, or indeed if she has ever met a boyfriend at work.

“I don’t have to be attracted or feel chemistry to feel some sort of connection. In fact some are just like mannequins to me. But I do try to ‘like’ all of my customers to make it a positive experience for them. I think that’s really important. I’ve been on two dates with clients. One was terrible and the other was much later in my career and I was deeply connected to that person. Men often try to ask for more - I’m probably propositioned most nights. They’re actually quite creative and eloquent with pushing their luck! I understand though, they want to feel like they got something more, as though I’m providing more than my job requires. I’ve been offered large sums of money for sex in the past, but I’ve never felt the need to go that far. I’m sometimes paid £600 per hour just to talk, so I wouldn’t be tempted by much. Plus I have a good lifestyle where a few grand isn’t going to change my life dramatically. It’s important to know that the girls who do ‘extras’ are tempted by proximity because they want to, not because they have to. Those girls don’t tend to last long as a dancer.”

On the topic of money, what Cathy earns is of course the elephant in the room topic we want to delve into. In the company of such an honest and open character, we waste no time in asking her to expand on the subject.

“There are two types of girl in the stripclub - 'good time' girls and girls who want to earn as much money as possible for doing as little as they can. In my experience, strippers are more like the latter - divas! With regards to wages, on a really quiet night if nobody shows up, you can end up in debt to the club. This hasn’t happened to me in a long time, but it can. However, some girls will earn £20,000 in one night if they’re with a customer who is in love with them and willing to part with that kind of cash. I once made £7000 in one night from a regular who didn’t even buy a private dance. Instead I spent time in the VIP suite keeping him company, hoarding his attention all night.”

Since we’ve covered sex and money, our conversation progresses onto drugs. The industry is presumed rife with recreational drug use, supposedly to ‘zone out’ of the infliction of ‘horrors’ from the sex trade. Yet every woman we have encountered thus far, has not once described themselves in need of escapism.

“Drugs play a part in my recreational life. But if we’re only talking work, then no. Even on a separate level to professionalism, drugs shut me down emotionally so I can’t take them at work for that reason. When I’m on a night out, I don’t have to watch my P’s and Q’s or take money from people - I can relax on drugs, but not at at the stripclub. It pays to be focused in the work environment. I can’t imagine that’s exclusive to my job.”

Although there have been times when Cathy has felt like she has no other options, where her lack of professional skills have almost strangled her, she goes on to tell us how much freedom she has had in her life built from dancing; the liberations of independence and self-sufficiency.

“I’m a wife, a mother and trained property developer now, but I look back over the last decade and I remember all the places I’ve been, the cars I have driven and the people I have met. I know it all sounds very materialistic, but it’s more about life experiences to me. I cannot express how intense the comradery is here; the sisterhood amongst the dancers is like no other. We know each other and recognise fragile states and we work through them together. We’re family.”

As a wife and a mother, we had to ask Cathy about her own family. Having already touched upon the pro’s of flexible working hours, we are curious to know if her controversial occupation has ever been an issue to those closest to her. “I was already dancing when I met my partner, so it’s never been a problem because it’s always been a part of me. He knew who I was from the start. Strangely enough, when I had my son, it made me think I was only living for him. But dancing allows me to do something for me and recognise my femininity. I am proud to be independent, but does that make me a feminist?”

“I don’t like to label myself as a feminist because it socially represents the women who have fought to end my line of work - but taking my clothes off for money empowers me. I’m not a victim of anything or anyone. I feel empowered by everything I do. Men enjoy how I look, like I enjoy how other women look, but I’m not sexually attracted to them. Feminists tend to think dancing goes against the equality that women have fought for, but when I can choose to do a job that I enjoy and still earn a substantial wage from doing it - can taking my clothes off really be anti-feminist? There is a kind of ethereal quality to femininity that you are encouraged to promote in a strip club; a type that women aren't allowed to display in a normal workplace. I enjoy being able to project my gender openly without being judged for it and being supported by not only men, but also the women around me.”

“People find me sexually attractive for my body and sexuality is a great power, not a terrible weakness. I don’t necessarily want to be considered a feminist because I find the inequality between men and women very beautiful. Men have strengths as well as weaknesses, as do women, both in very different ways (with exceptions to the rule). If you try to fight a man in a man’s way, you won’t win...because he’s a man. In the same way a man can’t fight a woman in a woman’s way...because she’s a woman. To me, feminism isn’t about a small group of women deciding what they think is best for womankind as a whole, it’s about being able to make a choice - and stripping is something I want to do. Surely that’s the definition of pro-feminism.”

Standing before us in a red lace bodice, her naturally small breasts and admirable fitness physique already contradicts our misconceptions before she speaks. When she opens her mouth, Cathy is an educated graduate, a mother and a monogamous lover with wisdom beyond her youth-full years. With a captivating understanding of true femininity, culture, society and equality beyond many politician’s capability, clever Cathy is all woman. 

Writer: Jen Brook

Photographer: Julia Fullerton Batten

From the internationally published art series, The Act, 2016.

Catch Julia talking about her work and The Act, at The Photography Show, on Tuesday 21st March. 

Above: ***NSFW***

I struggle to define the moment, that I first discovered the work of fine art photographer, Julia Fullerton-Batten. Her use of the little versus the large, in Teenage Stories, published 2005, seems prominent in my mind through later years. Although her contemporary art series Unadorned and In Service are most certainly my favourites. Needless to say, I’ve been frivolously watching in eager anticipation of each project, for half a decade. 

When I saw Julia advertising for a freelance writer in late Spring of last year, my interest was instantly awakened, knowing her subjects bear a distinguishable weight in concept. The call did not disclose too much information, but touched upon women, feminism and the sex industry’s workers. With such strong feelings towards the definition of feminism - of what it is and what it most certainly is not, along with the fluidity of gender, sexual oppression, subservience, strength and acceptance of social restraint, I took my chances and applied. 

Within a week, Julia’s hard drive had arrived on my doorstep. 

Sixteen interviews with sixteen sex workers for fifteen images, soon equated to fourteen thousand final words, plus reworks and shortened texts for the new art book. Hire-by-night escorts, sexual surrogates, pornstars, sex slaves, a webcam performer, a peep show act, a burlesque dancer, an aerial artiste, a stripper, a lapdancer, a pole dancer, a dominatrix, and a circus performer who specialises in rope work...each one a tale to tell.  

Hours upon hours spent transcribing every interview, listening to each subject speak, rewinding, listening again; adopting their personalities as if they were my own and then writing in their words from the heart. Writing, re-writing and converging bullet points into chronological static sentences, I came to know these unmet strangers as immortal best friends; their unusual lives captivating my every waking hour with a new understanding of what it means to be a female worker in this underworld. 

Some interviews were as much of a performance as ‘The Act’ alone, no different to the staged photograph (not so coincidentally; framed on a stage) that portrays them. However, others were less...characterised and it was these that I enjoyed studying the most - these that utterly consumed me; talking to anyone who would listen, about these uniquely wonderful women and their uniquely extrovert life choices. 

For sheer gob-smacking fascination, in a way Channel 4 loves to document, the daily occurrences depicted by sex slaves, Ella and Chloe, were ones I will never forget. A free spirited woman myself, with a self confessed attitude and sensitive temperament, the thought of spending each day at the demand of a dominant, is something most alien to me. Plus the trauma and the deliberate deliverance of torture through the initiation process of ‘earning the collar’, is something to this day, I cannot fathom. Yet, to understand is not something that these girls ask. There is no need to comprehend the judgement of the whys or why nots. Through this project, I have simply learned how to listen. 

Above: Cathy Keen...my favourite subject. This lapdancing model speaks with such educated poise, that there is absolutely no doubt that this wholesome woman has her sh*t together. Julia was kind enough to send Cathy my details, having read my interpretation of her story and asked for my name. I received the email below from Cathy herself: 

The girls: Sasha Flexy, so much strength, both mentally and physically and spoke a quote I absolutely loved; “sex is easy to get, but love is much harder to find”. Mouse and her “BA-DOING!” impression had me in stitches! And yet, through it all, having discovered so many fiercely independent women in control of their lives and their psyche...I came to Shadait. 

Julia was sure to brief me on ‘The Act’, as it were; to depict each model’s story in a positive light. This came as no struggle, as each one offered the enjoyment they shared for their jobs; often claiming “I would not do this if I didn’t want to”. 

Yet, Shadait, first lover of fashion, second mother of two that become one, third escort to lonely men...bore a sadness to her story I still can’t seem to shrug off. Shadait is the only one of all sixteen women, that worried me. As she remains as much of an unmet stranger, as she was to me yesterday, I can only hope that she read my final paragraph to her story, as proof that someone believes that ‘she can’. 

Through quite frank and personal narratives, I entered into the lives of these unique strangers. Women, who have chosen a career path to suit their needs; be it money, passion, performance or extroverted force, their stories have now become a part of who I am. I fell in love with their tenacious tenacity, now, I invite you to become part of The Act... 

*** I will be sharing each girl’s story on my blog day by day - stay tuned (warning NSFW). Thank you to Julia for trusting my judgement and writing abilities, and for allowing me to become a first time hardback published author, of a project that challenges preconceptions in collaboration with fine art ***

Catch Julia at The Photography Show, talking about The Act, on Tuesday 21st March 2017. 

Have you ever heard a story that sounds somewhat familiar? A story that could easily be your own? A few weeks ago, I read Kirsty Mitchell’s recent blog; a chapter of history repetition, in a way that couldn’t be made up. From the healing journey of grief, that we’ve followed throughout Wonderland, to the unexpected tale of breast cancer coming for her too. 

I read her story with wide eyes and a dry mouth. Not three weeks earlier, I’d discovered a breast lump all of my own. 

At a regular pill check previous to this, I’d mentioned the unusual mass to the doctor in passing. “Worry not, hen” reassuringly she had said “tethered lumps are nay to be concerned aboot”. As I very much reside in the headspace that there’s ‘nowt worth worrying for, unless there’s reason’, I saw myself out, feeling satisfied. 

As I read Kirsty’s story, top to bottom and back to the top over again, I commented about my own lumpy friend. “Go back” said Kirsty. “They told me that and I’ve had cancer. Go back and make them check it again”. 

Still convinced they’d give me the same spiel, I hurried not, back to the surgery. However, January 4th finally came near; the closest date I’d been able to get an appointment. I removed my coat, my top and my bra...one of the few winter days I was only 3 layers thick. I lay on the cold plastic covering of the consultation bed protected by a sliver of ripped paper I’d torn. She raised my arm above my head and pushed her hard palm against me in all positions. 

“Well, I know what you mean. I can certainly feel it. Who was the person who told you to leave it?” The grape sized ball that had made its home in my boob, was standing proud and present as I’d told her. She agreed to leave it a week in case it went. However I was a little confused as to why my previous mentioning had not even been noted. 

One week later: she rang me. “Hello Jennifer, is the lump still there?”. I was at work and hadn’t really thought about it. In the office toilets with my hand up my top, I searched for the pesky rogue of my problems. Yep. Still there. Still proud and present. “I’m going to give it one more week...it could very well be a hormonal swelling and we have to acknowledge all possibilities before forwarding this on. You understand that, don’t you?” Not wanting to question the authority of a person in the know, I marked one week in my calendar for a repeat conversation. 

Four days passed...five days passed. I’d admit it was starting to play on my mind. I wasn’t worried and certainly not held back, as I continued to work all day and plan Walter’s Wardrobe by night, setting up venue visits each weekend. Six days passed. 

Wednesday 2:40pm...*ring ring* 

Damn. I was caught in a meeting.

3pm: meeting ended. Voicemail left. 

“Hello Jennifer, this is Dr Anyan. I tried to contact you today to follow up our discussion as agreed. Unfortunately the surgery is now closed. However, I will call you back first thing tomorrow morning.”

I couldn’t believe I missed the call, having sat and stared at the damn phone all morning. Oh well, one more sleep isn’t going to grow it any bigger...is it? 

Thursday 19th January 2017, 8:31am, the phone rang. The lump was still there and the word had been given. Within two hours, the NHS referral line rang with my appointment for the following Wednesday. All systems a go, the wheels were in motion. It was happening. 

Fast forward to Wednesday (25/1/17), where I mentally began this blog from another cold plastic bed and another paper cover that I’d torn. I was at Manchester Hospital, having parked in the only space for miles around and been handed a parking ticket by a kind soul with two hours left on the meter. “That was lucky” I thought, “I’m feeling lucky”. 

Five professionals, three examinations, an ultrasound, a Brucey bonus additional lump discovered and one needle aspiration later, I was on my way home feeling slightly thrown by the unexpected need to take a cell sample. But I arrived back at my car with one minute left to spare...it was definitely a lucky kind of day. 

I was told that I would recieve word of the results within a week and suddenly I was feeling lesser levelled, as I once was before. I was snappy and grumpy and frustrated with life. There was no point in the gym, if i was going to die anyway. It sounds so dramatic, but these are the thoughts that passed through my head - more erratic, less tolerant, unnerved. 

Thursday passed. Friday passed. Saturday I sobbed into my boyfriends bobbly brown jumper for the first time, as a Disney advert interrupted our tea - asking him if I’d make it to our booked and paid for summer holiday, or if I’d be bald at home, clinging on. There was nothing he could say to console me as I remembered the woman sat next to me in the waiting room with yellow skin, black eyes and a headscarf. He was scared, as much as I was. 

I spent seven hours on the road for Walter’s Wardrobe this weekend. Through all of the stress and denial that I could possibly be ill, I’d continued to work on my passion. The next venue was a necessity for the upcoming event. Perhaps, subconsciously, my brain knew I’d be ok. I travelled to three locations, in search of the perfect place with just the radio to keep my mind company. 

Today: Monday morning. I checked our external mailbox three times or more. There was no sign of the postie coming for me. So I rang the surgery. Forty eight hours longer was too much of a wait. I’d rather go to the gym tomorrow feeling healthy. 

The receptionist informed me that the results had arrived. “The doctor will ring shortly Miss Brook, he’ll discuss it all with you then. It’s important that you keep your phone with you. Ok?” 

“F*CK” I thought. I was really in bollocks valley now. What results needed to be discussed over the phone that can’t wait for the post? This was exactly what Kirsty’s story had said! With her blog entitled ‘In my Mother’s Shoes’...I was tip toeing dangerously close to her clogs. 

12pm passed, 2pm passed...even 4:40pm had passed when I cracked. I rang back to say I’d been waiting for 7 hours and I needed to know. I just needed to know if I had cancer! Having waited all day for the call to come, at 6:25pm, twenty five long minutes after closing time, the phone finally rang. 

After an initial outburst in response to his “can I help you?”, I said I was told he had results for me. Despite being originally unaware of exactly what he was calling for, it turned out he had access to the hospital’s notes. “I’m pleased to tell you it’s a fibroadenoma. From the sample they’ve taken, it’s a non-cancerous....” - I’d heard all I needed to. Philomena. It’s a Philomena. Thank the sodding Lord for bloody benign Philomena!!!! 

So there we have it. My story isn’t someone else’s; it doesn’t have to be. MY story has concluded with an alternate ending...and I’m ok. I have to go back to the hospital in six months time, but until then, there’s nothing more left for me to do. I have so much empathy tonight, for those who aren’t so lucky, because my goodness, I SO want to live. 

Who’d have thought these tiny tata’s that barely fill an A-cup, would have the power to cause such drama. A lesson to be learned for the future and a whole lorra thankfulness to follow...THANK YOU life, for letting me be a lucky one. 

“Jen Brook, I keep wanting to send you this message, so while I think of it, I will. You don't have to reply to this or anything by the way, and I promise you I'm not a weirdo.

 I just wanted to say that you keep on impressing me more and more. You've totally got your shit together, you give great advice, you really know how to treat people, and your creative vision is right up there. 

You've got the sharpness of mind or some such quality that enables you to pull off what many try and fail to do. I'm not impressed by many people really, I'm quite a secret critic really, not that anything qualifies me to be. 

 If I had big bucks and I needed someone for some hypothetical big creative job, you would be a person I would trust. So yeah I often see your Facebook posts and just think, Jen Brook is bloody brilliant. She'll go far. 

 So I just wanted to tell you.”

************

A message sent to me by an incredible designer, that now hangs pride of place on my pinboard. 

Finally, I got my sh*t together. #yesIhave 

Tongue-tied: the darker side of working for the world as your boss. 

January 2016. The very first month I didn’t blog...then only again twice more all year. 

I guess it’s no secret that my need, want, incessant desire to share writing has been on the decline for some time. From viral do’s and viral dont’s, to the break up and recovery of my self-concerned swollen heart. This sacred Tumblr place has been my sanctuary...my soup for the soul - and for that I will always cherish thy blog-eth. 

So what cat got my tongue, which theif stole my words, what perplexity ended the verbal diarrhea? In all honesty, it all comes down to just one excuse: the strain of responsibility is too much. Now I’m back at my computer, encouraged to write, so I’ll tell you a true story unspoken... 

Once upon a time, in a land of ‘normality’ and ‘typical’ life, an internet model became a forced therapist. 

You see, being a model isn’t just posing for the camera by learning a trade, marketing oneself and traveling far. Being a model means saying “no thank you” when all other occupations would gasp in pure horror and report the asshole to authorities. Being a model means sweet talking, eyelid fluttering and stroking all egos for work. It means being exposed, both inside and out, as a person that people think they know. People who demand more than you want to give, to be invited into the ‘inner circle’. 

How do you become a model? How do you find work? Where do you get your outfits? How d’ya build your sets? Do you like my pictures? What do you eat? Where do you live? What are you up to? Can you help me? 

Note to self: being active online, does not make oneself public property. 

During one spell of relentless desperation, I blogged and never pressed the post button to be seen. That was the last day I wrote for the world and these are the words I had written...

“I am one ordinary person on one average wage, with a slightly extra-ordinary creativity. I’m no more special than anyone I know. Any knowledge I’ve gained, has simply been learned. I’ve had access to as much as everyone. I don’t make the rules, so please, just stop. Don’t ask me to be your untrained therapist. 

Don’t text me, don’t phone me or find me ‘off call’. Sat in my pj’s, with my boyfriend by my side - I’m not working. It’s my time. 

Don’t Whatsapp me, don’t Snapchat me, don’t search for me in places I don’t want to be found...and don’t hit ‘like’ on those photos to say “I’ve found you”. I don’t want to meet for coffee, I don’t want to meet for cake. I don’t want to feel forced to be polite. Please leave me alone, I want to stay home - that safe place I don’t want to share on a model release form.”

Dramatic. She’s being dramatic! No not this time, I promise. I can’t tell you how much it affected me. Still don’t believe me? Well, I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you about a time I’d had enough. A time when a ‘follower’ constantly followed. 

She was extra kind of kind and extra kind of friendly and easy to respond to with pleasantries. But she wanted my devout time and persistent attention and as the months went by, her emails grew more manic. 

Then, one day, her tone changed. 

It started with her thigh, that later her bicep. Each cut made cried ‘hello’. The details became more and then a silent photo came. I felt sad for her and I tried to understand. I didn’t want her to ever feel alone. I repeatedly replied; demands that were quite simply for friendship. The strain of responsibility was more than I could take and I put myself to bed for a week. That was the end of 2014 and with the strength of another, I finally stopped looking. My internet ‘friend’ met the BLOCK button. 

My obsession to answer every email was curbed and my need to support others was unfairly tainted. I still don’t know what became of that woman. She’s not the reason I stopped writing. 

So, please, as you look at me as a model or whatever, remember me first as a human. Everything that you do and everything that you say, affects me as much as it affects you. 

I’m not a free therapist; just forced into one. 

Iphone imagery above by Devin Schiro. 

9 unforgettable moments of 2016:

The return to Oz. In April, I sat on a plane for near on 23 hours, returning to the city I once loved. Forever friend and photographer, Brooke Shaden, flew me home to Melbourne; the place I lived, worked and fell for 8 years ago. Emotions were high as I landed under the cover of darkness, greeted by familiar sounds, smells and places all warped like a strange dream. Familiar, but not correct, I realised that stepping back in one time zone, is not back in time. The same is not the same as it was. My missing jigsaw piece came home on the plane. My jigsawed heart; complete again. :) 

A model never forgets how to model. Chilling at my desk with legs baring their 'winter coat’ and already 5 custard creams deep into the afternoon, model, Amber Tutton called me; “Can you be at the studio by 6pm? There’s too many dresses left to shoot and we’ve got to get it done for tonight!”. Eight months out of the model game had my nerves replying “no thanks”, but the words that fell out said; “what address?”. I donned my nudie undies like Wonder Woman wears her cape and with heels in tow, I made my way back to the camera. *Click....click*....fears aside, by frame 3 I found myself falling effortlessly from pose to pose, working each style with ease. I felt comfortable. I felt capable. I felt home. A model never forgets how to model.

a) Bonjour Pierre le Rouge. It was a fond farewell to Wilson the ageing Clio - my first real asset and notable purchase. Having saved the £2200 I needed (on minimum wage at the time) and driven over the 100,000 mile milestone, I ran him into the ground from shoot to shoot. But this year welcomed a new four wheeled friend; a red Yaris that nips like a roller-skate, boasting 5 doors for ease with Wardrobe antics. b) Raising Walter's Wardrobe into full fruition. If 2015 was its birth year, then 2016 has been its growth. From castle, to mansion and privately stately home, Walter has produced a grand total of 62 FPI's at 5 events (30 of which occurred from this year's 3). We've hired 13 models, 4 designers, 3 MUAs and 2 cinematographers. For a fierce black cat with a cupboard to new Narnia's…it's really not been a bad start! 

Shifting direction in print. My modelling career began with publication in blogs and magazines and has since grown into books and galleries - exactly the way I had hoped. This year saw Lauri Laukkanen present much of my Dreamcatcher Project (and more) in his first hardback publication. Also not forgetting my noggin appear in Damian Lovegrove's latest e-book collection, on a couple of covers and my face for sale via Brooke Shaden's name, hosted at various international galleries and in charcoaled talent by Steven P Smith. I also spent my summer writing 14,000 words for Julia Fullerton-Batten’s art project ‘The Act’, soon to make me a published author - something I have dreamed of forever. 

Travel. This year I've seen Bruges, Barcelona, Melbourne, Arizona and Cologne. Brooke, again, for some unknown reason, sees worth in flying me to some of the most beautiful places...and in June, I was invited to Arizona with 14 of the most caring kind of people I know. I've never been more grateful to know this motley bunch as we drove pink jeeps into the canyons, climbed cliff tops and mountain faces, ate s'mores over a campfire and listened to coyotes howl at the moon. It seemed the perfect end to my modelling adventures. Little did I know that 2016 had more planned for me.

May 8th, 8:30pm. I received the call I naively, did not expect. The family matriarch, the glue, the mother hen; my 81 year old Grandma, had died. I miss her greatly, more so at this time more than ever. But I know she loved her 6 grandchildren more than life itself and although we carry on without her, she continues to be our constant in conversation. 

a) I quit my job. Three months into the year, I hung up my studio shoes, having realised I'd become bored of the monotony and chase. I needed a job with a reliable income, a steady wage and an opportunity to keep on growing. It was a risk. A bloody big risk. Last time I was full time with a manager and a team, I fell in a deep puddle and struggled to keep my head above the surface...I’d never been so low in my life. But, as Brook-luck would have it, I've fit right in. I've a fantastic boss who trusts and understands, a BFF desk buddy as barmy as a bat, yet as loveable as another little sister. b) Enter stage left, Sophie; a gift in the form of a girl - a present from 2016. We started work in the same week with the same hair, same college background and similar faces. We sit side by side, live across the road from one another and now travel to work together each day. In fact there's barely an office moment we're apart. On day 19 of my new job, I arrived at work on my birthday, having known my colleagues for less than a month. As I shyly entered the office, I saw the blonde I'd grown fond of by my chair covered with badges, banners, cake and cards, shouting 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY!' unashamedly and proudly - so much effort for a stranger she barely knew and I'll never forget how that felt. You only need one best work buddy and I certainly found mine by my desk.

Dirty thirty. Despite telling most photographic contacts I'm 23 years young, this year I reached the 3-0. I spent it on a spa break with 7 of my favourites, giggling long into wine and rainbow cake. One thing I learned, is that 30 is only a number. I don't look 30, I don't feel 30...but talking to several 19 year olds and their likes/dislikes, most certainly confirms that I am. 

Photokina. Ohhhhh Photokina. The closest thing to stir crazy possible, whilst on display in a 20x6 ft box plinth for 6 days. September saw me head to toe in bridal lace, representing the face of Black Magic Design. The company is fantastic, the staff are even better and the care of their clients is perfecto. Yet, Photokina, the largest European photography show on earth, attracting 191,000 visitors….I have never quite experienced life like it. The 6 stages of madness. Day 1, happy believing it's the easiest money I’ve ever made. Day 2, fun times had, but cabin fever imminent. Day 3, the struggle was real and escape near impossible. Day 4, tears, tantrums and "everyone's a tosser" attitude deep set. Day 5, get a grip, do your job. Music saves the day. Day 6, the closest thing to a happy cabbage since being drugged on morphine for appendicitis.       

So as you can see, for a year ‘out’ of modelling…it's been quite the 12 months and I'm not at all in a hurry to see it go. For a year that has proven I can achieve what I want at a reasonable pace, it has ended with the best Christmas I've had in a long time and so many high hopes for the future. 

Yet, as I sit here contemplating all the memorable things that have happened to me, I also remember the 2 year anniversary of Matt's death. This night 24 months ago, a friend decided to end his life. It was all a bit hush hush at the time, as nobody dared say the 'S' word. But having learned that this year, male suicide has dropped by 5.6%, I can’t help but wonder if all the awareness campaigns and sponsorships his friends have done, have gone on to save others for the future....and that can’t be a bad thought to end the year on. 

Happy New Year to all those listening, may 2017 be everything you chase! 

:)

The first blog of the year comes with a breath of bittersweet; my five year relationship with the art of the pose has come to a mutual end. Lovers to friends; my fade away from the model-world has begun. 

At the start of the year I decided my life needed more security, realising that although I earn a sustainable living from my four current jobs; writing, modelling, event planning and retail; it’s not enough to guarantee the future I plan for. I am a proactive person and when the wind in my sails move direction, I tend to act fast - sometimes too fast. I hate sudden change, yet time after time, the ‘curiosity tap’ is turned and most times I manage to make it work. 

So, I began to apply for new jobs and a fortnight ago I was invited to an interview. As further luck would have it, I discovered I had been chosen - the end of one era and the start of another, in a position I honestly think I’ll enjoy. Now in the same month that I celebrate 5 years of model-me, I hang up my studio heels for workwear flats. 

However, this isn’t goodbye in its entirety. I plan to continue shooting on the occasional weekend and take annual leave for the irresistible adventures I acquire. I am a creative person and the lust to express artistic passion still runs in my blood; I need life in my soul to keep living. But all in all, I will not be working as I have been, having observed a noticeable decline in the industry and my tolerance for the intolerance within it. From here on, I will only be working for the professionals I trust, the creatives I adore and the people I consider as friends. 

No more smiling through gritted teeth at derogatory comments, bitchiness and attention seeking galore. No more biting my glossed lip at vulgar forum threads or the over opinionated online abuse from keyboard kings. No more freezing my boney backside in cold slimey ponds, or spending a deplorable amount on clothes/props unable to be used again. No more social anxiety from awkward requests; re. the ones who want to ‘meet up’, but won’t book me. No more texts to my personal phone months after that one time we shot. No more chasing unpaid promises; TF agreements and invoices ‘lost’, or calling for a cease and desist on blatant theft. No more ‘creatives’ proclaiming there’s only one way to light, or those who use presets on everything. No emails requesting foot fetish films, naked selfies or unquestionable porn. No more accepting misogyny in the workplace as the norm...no more tears from the worst part of it all - causing a rift with once friends by trying to exist in an industry that thinks they own you.  

No, there are some things I will never ever miss. 

But for every dislike of the industry as a whole, there are a billion more positives tenfold. Who gets to be the first and only model (to date) to shoot in the library of an Austrian Monastery and fed yoghurt at midnight by a monk? To go to work wearing the same dress as Helena Bonham Carter and the same coat as Tilda Swinton from Narnia? To pose on an Icelandic iceberg then a Fijian tropical beach...in front of the Eiffel Tower, amongst moss coated prehistoric lava and in an abandoned asylum secreting stories? On top of a Montreal cityscape rooftop in the warm morning sun of Canadian summer? On the slippery wing of a frozen plane wreckage, or on top of 2000 year old ancient [Hadrian's] Wall? In a pumpkin patch, a floating rowing boat and an exquisite French chateau? In the same house as used by Tim Walker, the same building as used by Kate Moss, the same beach as featured in Atonement? Overground, underground, underwater, with fire...and even with an octopus on one's face. 

Who gets to make work colleagues...their forever friends? 

So please read this with zilch pity for me - “she gave up and succumbed to that life”. I know, I always said 9-5 wasn’t for me and I’ve been evolving for the last 5 years more than ever. But I cannot stress enough that I’m prepared for pastures new, reflecting on my short time with great thanks and ineffable gratitude to the most supportive network who saved me, who allowed me to grow bolder every day. 

This new road isn’t a fight I have lost, just a battle that changed its priority. I’m two months short of the big 3 0 and unexpectedly ready for steady; a pension scheme, maternity leave, sick pay, holiday...my desire to develop within a company has matured. I’ve had the party of my life as a self employed graduate, living life to the max in my gap year decade. Ten years of learning the real meaning of motivation and perseverance, doing good jobs and bad jobs, whilst gallivanting around the globe being paid. Now I’ve grown as much as I’m willing to alone and I want to transfer those learned skills to a set wage.

**(Watch this space for CV guidance for models moving on, as well as my personal modelling ‘kit’ sale including a wedding dress)**

Modelling was always a temporary fix and one I have adored like a best friend. I’ve sucked every life force I can out of its shrivelling veins and I’ve tried to give back as much as I’ve taken. I’ve written self-help blogs that spread like a viral disease; sharing my self proclaimed wisdom (from my short term experience), for free. I’ve proven that a model without an agency isn’t weak or unhirable, becoming the face of numerous brands and publications worldwide. I’ve conquered personal fears of solo travel and insecurity; starting with the spiderweb tube maps of London, leading to flights around the globe for 40+ hours. And with a lecture given at the first ever [The] Photography Show NEC, I’ve shown that a model can be heard, as well as seen. 

From Paris to Montreal, Toronto to Reykjavik, Los Angeles to Temecula, Saalfeld to Admont, Nice to Marseille, Tempura to Helsinki, Belgium to Fiji, Melbourne, Arizona and Cologne - it’s been a whirlwind romance I won’t forget; a relationship that blossomed like the first season’s rose. I’ll always recall my first international adventure, clapping my eyes on the twinkling Eiffel Tower (with photographer and friend Andrew Appleton) for the first time. Sat in the car, singing to “Proud Mary”, thinking “how did this average, agency unsigned girl from Preston, honestly get this lucky?” 

Brooke Shaden, Benjamin Von Wong, Miss Aniela, Joel Robison, Rosie Hardy, Alex Stoddard, Adrian Sommeling, Damien Lovegrove, Damian McGillicuddy, Brett Harkness, Lauri Laukkanen, Rebecca Bathory - there has barely been an online artist so admired I have missed. Even Trevor and Faye Yerbury, who predominantly shoot nudes, I had the pleasure of being photographed by last year. My only great regret left to date is from the 2014 snow that never fell - a shoot I was supposed to assist for the end of Wonderland; a soul nourishing series by Kirsty Mitchell. 

Making business contacts who became business friends; Three legged Thing, The Print Space, Black Magic Design Cinema Cameras, Stephen James Hair, The Flash Centre, DIY Photography, RAW Exchange, Train to Create, FaceOn Magazine, FStoppers, Creative Live, Think Tank, F Stop Lounge, In My Bag, Enlight Photo, SLR Lounge, PetaPixel, The Photography Show - huge companies who spent both their time and money to support my endeavours, I thank them for trusting my name. To the development of Walters Wardrobe, that I’ll continue to pursue - providing photographers the chance to create something special. The only thing left now, is the book I want to write - and I’m absolutely sure that will happen because there is nothing I don’t work for that I want. 

It was always the plan to keep going until I’d had enough; to be here for a good time, not a long time. I love a full circle and that, it has most certainly has been - as the 20th February marked the 5 year anniversary from my very first shoot with long time support, Gary Hill. We’re now at the tip of that sphere with achievements I couldn’t be more proud of and every mistake truly learnt from. 

So I’m sat here now with swelling salty eyes, writing this as one droplet escapes down my cold cheek. It has been the most indescribable, incredible rollercoaster, half-a-decade Dreamcatcher...and one I won’t ever forget. I will never stop looking at the world with childlike curiosity, with eyes that continue to see magic beyond reality. Please stick with me for the next part of the adventure, getting back into life-blogging for the win. 

To every single person who ever supported my journey back into normality, thank you for saving my life; I didn’t know I was a seed in the dark ‘til I grew. 

Jen Brook 

xxx 

www.jenbrook.com 

Above: BTS of Dreamcatcher 1: “Any Bed for a Weary Head” by Lauri Laukkanen

Towel on my head, toothbrush in my mouth, foamy white paste forming a firm crusty crud on my chin. It was pushing 10pm when I caught a glimpse of my barefaced skin between the patches of cloudy steam collecting on the dampened mirror. At twenty something (despite not yet sporting a single grey hair, nor wretched wrinkle on my maturing mush), my roller coaster affair with the camera, is undeniably, almost over. 

It’s been said the camera loves me and oh how I love thee...but the need for my presence will become lesser. 

                                                          *************************

The next day I woke up realising my desire to grow fat and old disgracefully was more important to my life goals than first presumed. And that is how my imagination tumbled to the sounds of Danny Elfman, how the creaking doors opened for the first time...and how Walter’s Wardrobe began. 

With five years experience now under my belt, it ain’t been no secret that my aims were more than to model. Posing for a living was not my first aspiration and although I am ineffably grateful for the opportunities I’ve had - it was never the life I intended. So now, with my feet under a table of knowing where I fit, it is growing increasingly necessary for me to ‘sow some seeds’, ‘hatch more eggs’ and then store those ‘eggs in several baskets’...(and all of the other phrases I’ve obliterated). 

Thus it was decided: I would use my developing network and past experiences (having styled, hosted, location scouted and sourced teams before - most notably for a Hollywood workshop with Gary Hill, a talk at the NEC for The Photography Show and a couple of self written, two day, creative space sessions with Lauri Laukkanen), to create a unique yet affordable event. Participants would step inside a Narnia-like world of wardrobe wonder, with doors that open up in a new location every time. 

Mission seemingly impossible:  

1. Source a suitable scene for photography i.e. imperfect, spacious and inspiring, yet enchanting, extraordinary and exclusive. 

2. Barter said location for a reasonable price, preferably on a Saturday and Sunday, competing with weekend wedding budgets that regularly run into the thousands.

3. Race the season! The colder it is, the less workable a location becomes. Plus with the impending Christmas holidays, money becomes tight for most.

4. Find a dependable team. Professionalism, reliability and experience essential. 

5. Make it affordable - a main priority in selling up to 12 places per day and assumingly unattainable for the cost of a private location, 4 top models, 2 professional MUA’s and an entire collection of designer dresses to budget for...plus trying to make a profit for myself. 

To put it politely, I worked my boney butt off to pull it together, ticking off each problem (after a minor flap) with a practical solution. I’ve been told event management is about putting fires out and I’m pleased to say all disconcerting flames were most certainly extinguished full throttle. Because with the wardrobe set to open up in a Victorian theatre, there simply was no alternative...The Show Must Go On! 

A small sample of the images collected for the mood board featuring colour, makeup style, costume and theme: 

Having had my eye on the venue for almost three years, it was just six very short weeks between start and finish - booking the weekend, sourcing the team, securing the costumes, planning the accommodation, receiving the shipping and the event going live for attendance purchase. 

The theme was set; a Parisian theatre from the early 1900′s, with the colour of Moulin Rouge meeting the mystery of Phantom of the Opera, inspired by the modern day work of Annie Leibovitz. As I hovered the mouse above the ‘post now’ button, equipped with my Pinterest moodboard of styling, I bit my lip and prayed to the roof............and the first day sold out in an hour. 

On with the show!

Before we knew it, it was November 13th - the models were delivered to their hotel, the dresses were all prepped, all contracts were signed and my poor old car was bursting at the seams, packed tightly with muffins, mince pies, tea and coffee! 

By sunset the following day, I’d know by the reflective faces of a dozen photographers, if Walter’s Wardrobe was a success. 

Saturday 14th and Sunday 15th November 2015 - Behind the Scenes in Walter’s Wardrobe: 

And what became of the final edits?! Well, in a sea of red and black....click here for the collection thus far (including 3 FPI’s on PurplePort already), proceeding a handful of behind the scenes images. 

Walter’s Wardrobe, the Theatre Collection:  https://www.pinterest.com/jenbrookmodel/walters-wardrobe-theatre-collection/ - a triumphant effort by all!  

With massive thanks to the entire team who worked tirelessly on the 2 day event: Olivia Morewood, Jenna Hacking, Abigail Pulleyn, Raphaella Withlove, Colleen Deary, Ella McNeil, Laura Stanford, Mishi May, plus Gary Hill and my Dad, Jon for their assistance on set during the day. But of course mostly to every single photographer who came and all those who have supported the event in some shape or form. 

My favourite behind the scenes snapshot with Jitan, Colleen and Weng, captured by Damian Hall: 

Until next time, the doors remain closed over Christmas. But don’t stray too far from the wardrobe...you never know where it’s going to open up next... 

For exclusive access to all the goings-on inside Walter's Wardrobe; from the first 'save the date' notices and inspirational mood boards, to entry into some of the most unique UK locations, working amongst creative models dressed specifically in designer costume for each themed event, please join the Facebook group by clicking here:  https://www.facebook.com/groups/walterswardrobe/?fref=ts or contact me directly via my website. 

BTS video edited by Devin Schiro.