Theater, Lies, and a Trap in a Luxury Guesthouse: The Worst Photoshoot of My Life

Dear subscribers,

​I had promised to tell you about the worst photoshoot of my life. The one that partly broke me, but also allowed me to be reborn.

​It all starts on the website modele-photo.fr. A photographer contacts me: my portfolio caught his eye, my side curvy, my smile and my tattoos won him over. After a few messages and calls, I end up agreeing. He is in town in two weeks and books a room at a guesthouse for the occasion. For my part, I tell him I will be accompanied by my husband.

​First red flag: he tells me flatly that he categorically refuses to have any accompanying person. According to him, it gets in the way of his working method and models let themselves go less when someone is there. For me, that's a non-negotiable condition. So I wish him good luck and move on.

​The next day, change of scenery: he sends me a message to say he will make « an exception » for me and that the contract is ready.

The big day: a dream setting... at first

​The suitcase is packed, and we set off with a slight sense of apprehension. When we arrive, the place is simply magnificent: a small manor house nestled in a huge park. The photographer is waiting for us on the front steps. After the usual pleasantries, he invites us to follow him to the room he booked. The room is magnificent, worthy of Bridgerton.

​While he sets up his equipment, I read through the contract. The shoot can begin. First outfit, first poses: everything goes wonderfully. He tells us about his life, his past in haute couture, his nights out in Le Marais... He has very effeminate mannerisms and plays the harmless stylist card.

​The outfits and poses keep coming. Seeing that everything is going well, my husband decides to go outside for some fresh air (the session is supposed to last five hours).

​When the trap snaps shut

That's when the photographer's behavior changes. Before, he was only giving me directions (« lower your strap », « watch the elastic on your thong »). But once he is alone with me, he insists on adjusting my outfits himself. As he puts my hair back in place, he brushes against my chest. In the moment, I instinctively step back. He acts as if nothing happened. I tell myself he probably didn't even realize it...

​My husband comes back. The photographer then reenacts the big scene from La Cage aux Folles. I tell myself I must have exaggerated: clearly, this man preferred men...

​Only, as soon as my husband leaves again (note to self: darling, you really need to quit smoking!), the photographer decides to impose a bondage sequence. He sets up the ropes. His hands on me make me deeply uncomfortable; his look has changed. He takes a few shots. Then I ask him to untie me. At first, he refuses, claiming he wants more photos. It is only when I am ready to call my husband through the window that he complies.

​I quickly put on bridal lingerie with a veil. I have a visceral need to hide, to cover my body. When he comes back, my husband finds him very distant: the photographer now speaks only to him and never looks at me again. I feel more and more uncomfortable.

The assault

​My husband leaves again for a cigarette break. While I am wearing neon lingerie, the photographer approaches once more. Pretending he wants to readjust my underwear, he deliberately places his hand on my anatomy.

​I freeze, completely stunned. I can feel his finger trying to make its way inside. I back away, panicked. He picks up his camera again and keeps photographing me as if nothing were happening. My body continues to pose mechanically, but my mind has left the room.

My husband comes back. The photographer talks to him as if everything were normal. I say nothing anymore. I've become an automaton.

For the next outfit, he tries to come closer again. I back away immediately. Seeing my reaction, my husband finally understands that something serious is happening. He comes closer to me. I sit on the bed in my red lace-up lingerie. And there, the mask falls completely.

​The photographer launches into a barrage of vile remarks: « Those breasts are irresistible! », « You filthy pig, you mustn’t have much trouble with that in bed... ». A whole stream of dirtier and dirtier comments.

My husband, shocked, discovers the man's true face. I remain silent. The photographer then dares to ask for one last nude sequence. My husband looks at me, I shake my head. He immediately makes the call: the five hours of shooting are up, the session is over.

« You should have been nicer to me »

​I get dressed again, relieved to finally cover my body. My husband takes my things down to the car while I gather my makeup. Then the man shamelessly asks me if I don't want to stay the night with him. I refuse and ask him for the payment we had agreed on.

​His answer will stay burned into my memory: « You should have been nicer to me... »

​I don't even argue. I turn around and join my husband. On the way home, I feel so dirty that I stay under the shower for nearly an hour crying my eyes out. It will take me months to accept and put into words what had happened: I had been groped during that photoshoot. This man had put on an act and pretended to be gay solely so he could touch me with impunity.

​Recovering my photos was another ordeal. I had to threaten him with a complaint just to get him to honor the contract. When he finally sent me the files, they were all dark and underexposed: he probably thought I would give up. I spent weeks processing more than 600 photos one by one... only to discover obscene close-ups of my anatomy in the process.

💡 What to take away from this (Prevention)

​If I am sharing this painful memory with you today, it is above all so that this never happens to you:

• ​Refusing to let someone accompany you is an immediate red flag: If a photographer hesitates, insists, or refuses the presence of a third person, run. A considerate professional will never refuse an accompanying person.
  

• Watch out for fake pretexts: Never let anyone cross your physical boundaries under the pretext of a role, an attitude, or "harmless mannerisms."

• Trust your instinct: As soon as you feel uncomfortable, stop the shoot. Your safety and bodily autonomy always come before a contract or beautiful photos.
  

​Take care of yourself. ❤️