Hustler Hollywood Holiday Gift Guide 2009

Last week, under a serious short-term deadline, I produced another digital catalog for St. Louis retail store Hustler Hollywood, in conjunction with a promotion on 105.7 the Point. You can view the Flash catalog here (pretty SFW, unless your workplace is really prudish).

This was definitely a “so many irons” project – I contacted models, arranged the shoot, did all the photography, performed all post-production on the photos, designed the catalog and set up the Flash interface.

Because of the aggressive schedule from client sign-off to launch deadline, I wasn’t able to give this one the high-gloss look on the models that I used in earlier digi-catalogs (Holiday 2008, Valentine’s 2009). Instead, I went for a more natural feel, closer to some of the stuff I’ve seen in magazines like Nylon. The local HH store manager really wanted the models in this catalog to have a girl-next-door approachable vibe, as opposed to the adult stars that usually populate their print catalogs. I think we pulled that off.

The paneled backgrounds were inspired by the DVD box set packaging for Batman: The Animated Series.

The Point models here are Meagan Adamo, Sheila Shafie and Danielle Stewart. They were all a lot of fun to work with and very accommodating given the short notice.

Remember these? Yuck.

While out shopping with a female friend, we stop to examine a kiosk selling trendy purses and belts made entirely of big, dangly sequins in bold, fluorescent colors. I fear someone has accosted a figure skater and stolen their outfit for raw materials.

“I should get one of those,” my friend says, her face a canvas for disco-ball refractions cast by sparkling handbags. I raise an eyebrow. This young woman, characterized by her classy, subdued taste, must be in thrall, mesmerized by the magnificent gaudiness.

“Why?” I’m genuinely curious, and a little concerned.

“They’re so hot right now,” she replies. Her gaze doesn’t leave the display. “Everybody has one.”

“So? They’re popular, so what? You don’t even like pink. Or magenta. Or whatever that is,” I say, pointing to a belt roughly the shade of Liberace’s soul.

She finally looks at me, and her expression is blank. Yet, is it my imagination, or can I see hot pink sequins dancing in her irises? “They’re so hot right now,” she says again, flat, atonal.

“But you hate trend-driven consumerism!” I cry. “You oppose Paris Hilton and all she stands for. Why give in to this?”

She stares at me and points at my wrist, adorned with three thick, mono-hued rubber ringlets sporting unrelated slogans. I haven’t worn a bracelet since junior high. Why did I start again now? I’m struck by the realization that no one else has worn these things in months. Why am I?

Her finger raises to indicate my pseudo-vintage, process faded graphic T-shirt. It depicts a questionably-named business establishment that has likely never existed, in a state I’ve never visited.

The accusatory finger aims higher to my short cropped hair, cut in imitation of Lost star Matthew Fox.

I am overcome by my hypocrisy. My will to fight the system evaporates. I look from my friend’s face to the gleaming, serpentine scales of yellow, aqua and copper satchels. I revel in their gaudy hipness. They are to me as jewels in a treasure chest of fashion.
My friend buys one. I applaud her on how the fuschia complements her pea coat and brings out her hazel eyes. “You’re so in,” I tell her.

A week later, I’m at the mall with my wife. I’m drawn to a display of enormous belt-buckles, some with sharp, protruding edges, others with bright red LED lights scrolling popular catch phrases and rap lyrics. I have never liked such unnecessary belt attire. I imagine how stylishly ironic it would be to wear one now.

I gesture to a buckle resembling a hubcap, a dollar sign spinning in its center. “I like that one,” I hear myself say.

“You’re kidding, right?” my wife asks, incredulous. When I shake my head, her eyes go wide. “Seriously? Why?”

I stare at the spinning buckle bling and mentally compare it to a shiny, sequined pocketbook.

“They’re so hot right now.”