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Big Brother Skateboarding
March 2003
THE MAKING OF THE BOBBY TRENDY PHOTO SHOOT
By Andrew Vontz
Like children on Christmas morning waiting to spring from bed and rush downstairs to see what delights the jolly fat man has desposited on the floor, we huddled around Rick’s photo equipment in eager anticipation of Trendy’s arrival. As we waited, we needed to rearrange some of the luxurious and sumptuous pieces of furniture in the store to accommodate lighting tripods. Rick suggested that we stack them on top of a luxurious white leather couch, but the uber-efficient Chris quickly sorted the situation.
Moments after strutting in the door, Trendy had stripped down to a pair of compression shorts with mesh panels in the rear that displayed his wares. As Trendy stared us down with what we would all later agree was a lusty stare (or, as Tyler would so delicately put it, ‘did you feel like he was giving you fuck me eyes?’), Rick commanded Trendy onto the Victorian set of a red velvet couch, pillows, and drapery and taunted the Latino wunderkind to “make love to the camera.” Bobby, no stranger to the luxurious and probing glare of a Hasselblad, responded in kind, his fire stoked, no doubt, by the large box of porn that Tyler had brought along as a gift. In short order, Trendy, like a rocket red glare streaking across the sky towards its explosive telos, rollicked about, swapping in and out of accoutrements both luxurious and sumptuous until he was almost totally exposed save for a pubic swathe draped in a D&G mink fur.
“I like real fur,” Bobby cooed towards Tyler as he rubbed the mink on himself provocatively. “It’s a living memorial.”
Tyler, for his part, appeared entranced. “You could definitely have a show,” he said, his gaze fixed on Bobby. “Go large. HBO, the Spice Channel. . .keep it raw. . . Daddy and I have a secret.”
Truer words were never spoken. Although I’m not sure what secret Tyler spoke of.
It is between him and daddy, I suppose.
Next we moved to the alley where Tyler refused to remove his shirt for his shot holding the allegedly 130-pound Trendy. “Come on you fucking pussy,” Rick and I said, but Tyler would have none of it. This from a man who had paused to reflect moments earlier on Trendy’s devastating design prowess, saying, “If I only had an ounce of that talent in me. . .”
As Rick, Tyler, and I very well knew, Tyler could have had more than an ounce of Bobby’s talent within him in a matter of seconds. If that was what he really wanted. Which it was not.
And soon then, our Christmas morning was over and we stepped away from the phosphorescent effervescence of Trendy and into Kosick’s Volkswagen sleigh, our recording devices loaded now with gifts to share with skateboarders across the land like so many candy sprinkles atop a glazed donut. |
