I was booked on a shoot last Saturday. The shoot had been arranged ten days beforehand. Warning bells rang when, last Friday afternoon, I got an email from the client, a designer, saying the photographer wanted a long, straight, white wig. The photographer was insistent apparently. I told the client I didn’t have one, that as I was working and couldn’t do anything about it at such late notice that the client would have to sort it out, but as there are lots of hair shops where his studio is based that it wouldn’t be difficult for him to get hold of one. Okay, the call time wasn’t until 2pm and I could maybe have run around on Saturday morning but…well, let’s just say I’ve been there… Anyway, at 1pm, just when I was about to leave home, the client messaged me to say he was meant to meet the photographer at midday but the photographer hadn’t shown up and neither had he telephoned and nor was his mobile on. The client asked me to sit tight. ‘No problem,’ I said. At 2.15 I got a message saying the shoot is off, and when am I available? ‘Any day except Wednesday or Thursday,’ I said. Two hours later I got another message from the client saying the shoot would be rescheduled for either Sunday or Monday and that he’d get back to me and tell me what happened then. At 9pm on Saturday night I get a fourth message saying the shoot wouldn’t happen on Sunday. ‘No problem,’ I said. So, the fifth message is to tell me that the shoot is happening on Wednesday as that is the only day the model is free and can I recommend another make-up artist – which, against my better judgment but wanting to help out I did. I get a sixth message saying this make-up artist can’t do it. I didn’t bother replying. Now I don’t know who the hell the photographer is, but in twenty seven years of working I have NEVER known a photographer not show up, even the ones who used to party all night every night. Hell, I used to party all night every night and NEVER missed a day’s work! Unless you die suddenly, not turning up to work is unforgiveable in my eyes and displays unprofessionalism and selfishness to the nth degree. And this photographer clearly didn’t die; he obviously has an ego the size of Russia if he thinks he can mess the client, the model and me around. NOBODY is more important than anyone else on a shoot, even if the photographer is Mario bloody Testino. It’s probably a blessing I won’t have to tolerate this photographer; but most of all, I’m glad I didn’t run around looking for a long, straight, white wig and shell out for it out of my own money, because the chances I’d have been reimbursed for it are nil. I might have lost out on a job, but the £150 I should’ve earned is chickenfeed compared to the priceless knowledge that my gut instinct is ALWAYS right.