Spray Painted Bananas

Chapter 23

            The studio is above an Indian restaurant in Brick Lane. The smell of spicy curry wafts in through the huge window and makes me feel nauseous. I was too nervous to eat breakfast this morning and the second coffee has made me feel light headed and jittery. Matt is running late and I’m in the hands of the photographer, Alessandro, who hasn’t got off the phone since I’ve arrived. He’s yelling at someone in Italian and waving his arm about like he’s trying to swat flies.

            I haven’t got my clothes off and I already feel naked. I wish there was a friendly female face instead of this fiery, macho Mediterranean who sounds like he’s used to having his own way. I’ve brought a backpack full of bananas but I don’t know how we’re going to attach them to me or where we’re going to do it. The studio is open plan with a long desk running down one side of the wall and no visible curtained off area which might serve as a dressing room.

            The angry phone call ends unexpectedly in hysterics and I wonder if I’ve mistaken rage for affection. He whips around and shoots me a wide–eyed smile which makes him look a little crazed.

            ‘Donna delle banane!’

            ‘Hi...’

            He puts a hand under his chin and examines me from head to toe.

            ‘Okay, we begin, yes?’ he says.

            ‘How? Where is everyone? Someone has to sort out how we’re putting the bananas on me, don’t they?’

            He stares at me blankly. ‘What?’

            ‘Well, I thought there’d be a makeup artist and maybe a costume designer...’

            There’s a twitch of confusion between his eyebrows. ‘Okay.’

            ‘You don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?’

            ‘No.’

            ‘I need to wear the bananas!’

            ‘Yes, yes, you nuda con le banane, very sexy...’

            I feel the panic rising fast. ‘No, not sexy, it’s got to be artistic....’

            He waves his hand dismissively at me. ‘You trust me, yes?’

            ‘No, not really.’

            He laughs. ‘Everything is okay!’

            No, nothing is okay. Where is Matt? He was the one who organised it, who assured me everything would be professional and done in good taste.