Iris DeMent | photographer

Over the next couple of hours, I tried on different shirts and posed in front of screens with descriptions like “leaf” (green) and “spice” (brown). Music played in the background. Iris DeMent. Wilco. Beach Boys, circa Pet Sounds. Cool stuff. Stuff you expect to be played at a photo shoot in a hip studio.

All the while, the photographer fussed with the light, as photographers are wont to do. At one point, he set up a shoot on a red (“sienna”?) couch that looked fine to me, but required that shades be removed from windows and a white (“snow”?) panel be held just so. As he shot, he made funny quips that caused me to laugh and, eventually, to relax.

I even began feeling a little like myself.

Not too much, though.

The magazine cannot have a guy on its back page looking like he actually looks, especially if that guy looks like me.