38-TV SERIALS, SANDY THOMAS ADVERTISING "B"

"We got it. All set," Issac said suddenly after the last burst of flashes.

Cindy pushed the tray away and threw off her covers. I was surprised to see she had old cutoff jean shorts on under the elegant chiffon jacket and bra-top. I guess it didn't matter, since it didn't show, but Cindy was usually so coordinated. She saw me look at the torn, faded shorts and she laughed as I picked up the tray for real to take it to the kitchen.

"I wear any old thing when it doesn't show, Cissie. But I have to concentrate on the clothes that do show. Everybody does it different, but you have to present the clothes without looking too obvious about it," she said as the make-up girl took her away for a touch-up.

The next shot was in the den. I was dressed in a charcoal gray day uniform and a full-bib, ruffled cotton apron. Cindy sat at her desk like she was going through her bills or something. She had on a light gray linen suit. It wasn't a business suit, though. It was more a suit you'd go shopping in or wear on a Saturday lunch date. The jacket was easy and unconstructed and the skirt was trim, but not really tight. A bright rose cotton camisole with a touch of lace edging at the bodice peeked out at the lapel of the jacket. Her make-up had been changed. Everything was toned way down and natural except her lips, which were wet and glossy in a rose shade that matched her camisole and nail polish.

She looked cute at the desk wearing her wire-rimmed reading glasses. She even bit her lip a little like she was trying to concentrate. A stack of papers and bills were in front of her and she was working herself into an exasperated look. (But it was a particularly pretty exasperated look, of course.)

The camera was set near her and just above her so it could look over her a little. I was standing fifteen feet behind Cindy with the upright vacuum.

"Can we put gloves on the maid, please . . . like maybe some kind of housework gloves," the photographer said. "She's pretty much out of focus and I have to make sure she looks really domestic, or Cindy will look like she's working harder than the maid."

I told the make-up girl, who had sort of become my friend, where to find my rubber work gloves in the kitchen.

"You don't have to turn it on, but I want to see you push the vacuum back and forth lean into it a little posture has to show the effort."

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MAID IN FORM "B" -39

"Bap" "Bap" The flashes started going off rapidly. I was already sensing the rhythm when Cindy and I were doing things well, the flashes "bapped" rapidly if we weren't doing so hot, the beat slowed down. (In a way, it was kind of like sex, I suddenly thought.)

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The shot was designed to show the rich model going over her bills after she's gone shopping. She's beautiful and, more important, beautifully dressed. Who cares whether she's the best accountant around?

In the background her maid, all uniformed, aproned and gloved, and looking very domestic, does the vacuuming. The message was clear. The pretty, perplexed young woman might pay her bills (or at least look at them) but she didn't do housework. She was too busy just . . . well, just being pretty. The fact that her maid performed all the more domestic tasks was completely assumed, as if any other arrangement would be ludicrous.

The next one we did was more fun. In the laundry room I wore the same uniform and stood at the ironing board with an elegant dinner dress. The dress wouldn't ever really be pressed at home, even by a maid, but I guess a touch-up with a cool iron wasn't too unrealistic. (What was I now, the technical advisor?)

Cindy was dressed in acid green washed silk capri pants and a hot pink blouse knotted up to show her midriff. She had her hair up in curlers, but her make-up was perfect. She looked like some 1959 prom queen or something. I thought she'd actually start blowing bubbles and popping her gum next!

Cindy leaned up against the wall with a phone to her ear, the cord wrapping down around her as if she'd twisted herself into it. She laughed and "talked" while I ironed. The camera peered through the space between my arm and body with the dress and ironing board at the bottom. They said I was out of focus since I was so close. And the space framed Cindy as she talked and laughed in her fifties retro getup.

This time the photographer actually set the scene for us. "Cindy's going out on a date later and she's talking to her girlfriend on the phone maybe about the guy, I guess. Lots of giggles and laughing and stuff. Her maid is busy ironing the dress she's going to probably wear, but maybe she'll change her mind and have her press something else for her. Anyway, Cindy's watching her maid iron her dress while she's on the phone.'

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