my_fi_st_glimpse_of_jean_sh_impton_was [HiveMind]

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My first glimpse of Jean Shrimpton was when I poked my head round the door of my mate Brian Duffy's photographic studio.
She'd been sent by a model agency and was posing for a Kellogg's ad.
Duffy was using a sky-blue background, and you could see the sky behind her eyes, as if you could see through her head.
I just fell in love with her eyes — the first thing I noticed — and said: 'Who's that girl?' Duffy said: 'Forget it, Bailey, she's too posh for you.'
      (Image: [[|]])   My first glimpse of Jean Shrimpton was when I poked my head round the door of my mate Brian Duffy's photographic studio.

She'd been sent by a model agency and was posing for a Kellogg's ad
I think we fell in love with each other straight away, although I was an odd choice for Jean. She'd been used to people who drove MGs and were called Ponsonby or something, and suddenly she'd met this East End bloke with a Morgan who couldn't even spell Ponsonby.
Her father was a very successful builder who also had quite a big farm, 200 acres in Buckinghamshire — but Jean was definitely posh.

I'm called Bailey because of her. I got lumbered with that because she used to go out with public schoolboys, who were all called by their surname.
When I took the first pictures of Jean, she was all arms and legs,  To find out more in regards to [[https://lapakbrebes.com/|lapak brebes]] look at the webpage. like Bambi on the ice, but I realised her arms always went in the right place, her hands were always in the right place and she always knew where the light was.
She was an exceptional model.

It's something you can't put your finger on. I suppose it's a kind of visual intelligence. I didn't explain anything to her; she had instinct, she knew how to move.
      (Image: [[|]])   David Bailey, pictured, provides an amazing insight into his wonderful career
<div class="art-ins mol-factbox news floatRHS" data-version="2" id="mol-f43b2c30-100d-11eb-925e-69372044c960" website BAILEY&apos;S rollicking memoir tells roguish tales