The Case of the Unseen Lady
I found the place I was looking for. It was a studio over a pawnshop beside a tire warehouse. Not the classiest spot on the map.
I went up the narrow outdoor stairs and knocked. After no one answered I tried the handle and found it unlocked. I went in. It was dark compared to the outside so my eyes had to adjust but my ears told me that most of the second floor was open space. As I walked into the makeshift studio it became evident that all the people were at the far end. But when I saw them I froze in place.
A photographer was facing four invisible women standing in front of a tall black curtain. Each of the shapely women was wearing a different style of undergarments and different styles of gloves. The only common factor was that all the apparel was pure white.
“A lovely sight isn’t it?”
The speaker who had walked up beside me was a thin gentleman, easily in his late 50s, in a stylish gray suit. He had a professional demeanor but a genuine smile.
“You’re lucky you choose today for your interview. These are my finest models. Wonderful ladies, all of them.” He looked at the models with pride.
“Mister Growley, I presume.” I said. “I’m Nathan Drake. We spoke on the telephone.”
“Certainly, Mister Drake.” He embraced my hand with a friendly shake. “I’m glad to hear that your magazine is interested in our work here. You said it was an art magazine based in Pittsburgh?”
“Yes, that’s right.” I had picked a distant location since he would mostly likely recognize most of the west coast names associated with the business.
“Well,” he said, “let’s meet the ladies shall we?”
As we walked closer to the set I realized that the models were not invisible but were wearing black bodysuits that blended into the background under the selective lighting. They even wore black coverings over their heads that they removed when Mister Growley called for a break.
He introduced each model by name with obvious pride and respect. He then introduced the photographer and two assistants.
After this he led me to his office so that we could talk. He gave me a cup of coffee and invited me to look though some portfolios. The common theme to all the pictures was invisible women.
“This is quite an impressive collection,” I said, “Are these all the same models?”
“No, we’ve had a number of different ladies over the years. Some are just starting out in the business and before they can get attached to a big agency, like Glamorous Images or one of the others, they work freelance. Many models don’t stay too long, they’re anxious to have the public see their face but we’ve had a few who’ve stayed on longer. They enjoy the work.”
“And they don’t mind posing in undergarments?” I asked.
“Well, actually they are much more covered on the set here than, say, a woman in a sun dress walking down the street.”
“And I suppose they’re less embarrassed by anything because they get to hide their faces.”
“Oh, no,” he said, “I’d never ask one of the ladies to do anything that would embarrass them anyway.”
I continued to look at the portfolios. He had amassed a great many pictures over the years.
“I can understand the undergarments. It makes them more acceptable to polite society by not showing an unclothed woman. But you have a few others here, fully clothed women but without a head. What does that mean?”
“Well, you see, that not only grabs the viewer’s attention but it’s rather symbolic.” He explained. By not showing any particular woman in the ad, the customer can imagine any face they choose. A woman can more easily imaging it’s she who is in the ad. Or perhaps a man will imagine his sweetheart.”
I stopped on a particular photo. The unseen model wore a brassier and slip but what really caught my attention was the inside of these garments. Most of the pictures should blocked-out areas where the models bodies really were. But this one seemed to show through the body to the inside of the garments.
“This one is exceedingly real looking,” I said.
He looked. “Oh yes, that’s a good one. We occasionally have an artist draw in the back sides of the garments to enhance the illusion.”
“That’s impressive,” I said.
“We also experiment with methods that do not require artistic retouching. Let me show you.”
He picked up another of the books and turned several pages. “Yes, here it is.” I looked to see a corset loosely opened and a pair of gloves set on the hips in a sultry pose. I was amazed at the detail within the corset.
“An artist didn’t draw this did he?”
“No,” Growley said, “that one was a lot of fun. The corset was held in place with wires sewn into it. But to make the image seem more authentic we had a live model stand immediately behind the corset and place her hands on its hips. Let me tell you, as impressive as this photo is it can’t compare to seeing that session live. It looked very genuine.”
I decided to get to the heart of the matter.
“So how did you get started in this particular art form? Invisible women?”
He looked off as if recalling a splendid dream.
“My muse.” He said wistfully. “I was greatly inspired by a vision of loveliness.”
“A woman?”
“Oh, so much more than a mere woman, Mister Drake. Imagine meeting the most mysterious woman you’d ever met. And you realize that her beauty is so profound that mere mortal eyes cannot even look upon her. You’re so overwhelmed that you don’t know how to relate to her. It’s shocking, like a slap in the face, yet refreshing because it’s unlike any experience you’d ever had. It makes you feel young and alive.”
But then his mood became very somber. “But it was fleeting. I never found her again. Everything I’ve done since, I’ve done for her.”
I was touched by this man’s profound sentiment. He was truly heartbroken. He worked with beautiful woman everyday but they all fell short of his ideal woman.
Then he suddenly brightened. “Sorry to be so glum, Mister Drake. The bight side is that my business continues to grow. In addition to doing ad work for newspapers and magazines we have private collectors who purchase the photos.”
Surprised, I asked, “There’s that many people who appreciate this particular art form?”
“Oh yes,” he said, “Now if only Hollywood would take a hint I think they could do some really interesting things. They could do things that you couldn’t normally do in a movie.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “so long as society remains prim and proper there will always be a market for your work, Mister Growley.”
“Oh, I think we’re safe there,” he laughed, “I don’t think they’ll be putting undressed models in magazines any time soon. Not in my lifetime, anyway.”
I thanked Mister Growley for his time and briefly spoke with one of the models on my way out. She said that Mister Growley treated all of the girls respectfully and always had impeccable manners.
I left the studio convinced that he did not have access to the invisibility formula. If he had, I’m sure that he would be using it. It seemed that the truly invisible woman was only a distant memory to him now.
As I left, I felt that I’d like to stay in touch with this kind and gentle man.
But I also vowed to never let him within a mile of Natalie.
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