SNAP: The World Unfolds

CHAPTER FOUR

I flew to Rio before my clothes arrived from the movers.

“Don’t worry, you’re only going to be there one night,” Mira told me.  “Pack two changes, make-up and prescriptions.  The office there will have everything else.”

She neglected to mention that the flights, which went through Miami, would also be overnights.  Didn’t have to change my clothes, though.

It was good to have face time with the Brazilian staff.  During their winter the workload slowed a little so they relied on freelancers and paparazzi to send stuff from the South American ski resorts   All in all, a very competent operation that supplied occasional digital video for the nightly TV show.

In L.A., I thought Mira looked like the girl from Ipanema.  I was discovering that a lot of Brazilian women looked like the girl.  They gave the SoCal girls a tight race, and with even less clothes.  Mira wasn’t just beauty; she was brains and well regarded.  She was from inland; started her career in Sao Paulo.  It was a bigger market but lower on the international scene scale.  Rio had the cachet; it was gossip central.

Anywhere was everywhere.  This trip cemented that the world was becoming one global marketplace.  American and European brands—from Levis to Hermes—were on display in the stores and on the streets and much of the merchandise was made in Asia.

SNAP thrived on this globalization.  Celebs in Paris, London, LA and Rio wore the same brands of jeans, sported the same hairdos and covered their faces with the same huge dark glasses. 

“You know, Mira, we could just store hundreds of digital images, photoshop them into different backgrounds and use them for all our issues,” I mentioned over dinner.  The travel and time changes were getting to me.

“I’ve thought about that,” she laughed.  “It would sure cut our costs for freelancers.  But then, how could we rationalize our own travel.  Truthfully, that’s a big part of why I work here.”

“It’s a ginormous perk,” I agreed.  “Not many people get travel, great food, hanging with celebs.”

“I don’t get much hang time here.” Mira looked pensive.  “Mostly I’m in the office dealing with freelancers who are here; arranging for buys of shots or info.  There are a few times, though; during Carnival with the Samba clubs is an assignment I always take.”

At a trendy restaurant near the bay we sat at an outdoor table and watched some of Rio’s Beautiful People stroll by.  I ordered a salad and a chicken dish, but Mira went for what looked like a small cow.

“Is that all you’re eating?”

She pushed some of the bloody flesh around on her plate.  “It’s from being around some of the people we cover.  They all like South American beef, bloody rare, so I’ve sort of picked up the habit.  Lots of protein, no carbs.”

Maybe that was the secret to the Ipanema girls.  After that, dessert was out of the question.

I spent a couple of hours at the office the next day, going over future issue plans and running through a list of the South American freelancers Mira used.  A few were very good and showed a lot of hustle—hanging around Galeao airport, camping out on the streets that wound through the hills, staking a place by the shoe store Constanca Basto and other shops and malls  in Copacabana.

“A few of these could make it anywhere.” I waved at the shots   “Do any of them want to move?”

“I doubt it.” Mira shook her head.  “For the good ones, it’s a good life.  They sell to us but they sell to South American magazines and TV shows, too.  I know there are a couple who make more than $100,000 a year.  A living salary, beautiful people to hang around, living in a gorgeous city with great weather and even better parties...what more could they want?

“The others, well, you probably wouldn’t want them.”

Going home was jet lag all the way.  Rio was fabulous but not a trip I’d want to make often.  I took a pill and dreamed about small cows.