Swit-zer-land.
Mountains. Trains. Cold. Pretty scenery.
And most importantly, my shoot!
I have to tell you, I have been in shoots before. Most of the time, they think I am an unpaid intern who is supposed to fetch coffee. But this time, I was there in the midst, surrounded by a bevy of busy people.
It was super fun.
Here are the highlights.
1. Vittoria looked absolutely beautiful in the campaign- she had a fierce, warrior goddess aura which I am sure would test super well with our focus groups
2. Prashant insisted on taking me for skiing- fell flat on my face, he posted it on social media and gained record engagement on my expense (that jerk)
3. We drank a buttload of wine after each day (very fun)
4. We ran into a group of Indian trekkers here and Prashant hit it off with their group leader (super cute)
5. Our director, Marcus Incitti was a strict man who worked his set like a military camp, but had an artistic vision beyond normal human comprehension. So the ads looked aesthetic, aspirational and irresistible- exactly how I wanted (shoutout to Marcus)
On the whole, every aspect of this trip was proving to be an utter and jubilant success and no one was as thrilled about it as me.
The elder Mr. Razdan probably should be; I am using all his millions to make this campaign.
Anyway, during the penultimate night of my stay here, I was in a picturesque store, contemplating between different choices of chocolate. The plan to woo my parents into apologizing to me was still on and I knew for a fact that a few pristine swiss chocolates will bring the 'Sorry' to the tip of their stubborn tongues.
My phone buzzed with a message.
Ma: Listen.
Ma: Listen no
Ma: I said listen!
Rolling my eyes, I hastened to reply.
Me: What?
Ma: I have been thinking.
Me: Why?
Ma: I owe you an apology.
I stared at the message with suspicion. Something was going on.
Me: You do?
Ma: Yes. Geeta really gave it to me. She said you probably felt attacked.
I think Geeta aunty should just come live with us.
Me: I wonder where she got that from.
Ma: So Papa and I are sorry.
Me: You're sorry. Papa can apologize if he wants. What is this collective noun?
Ma: Arey you know how he gets, he also feels bad.
Me: Ma if he feels bad let him come talk
Ma: Okay Chalo, I don't want to fight. How is the shoot going?
That message made me grin.
YOU ARE READING
Not Likely
RomanceHe was seated at the head of the table, his laptop open in front of him, no doubt already prepared to ask us a bunch of invasive questions. But he wasn't looking at the screen. He was looking at me. Stopping in my tracks, I looked back, wondering...
