Not so merry Terry

A few months ago, a screenshot of a Facebook message was thrown into the world. “If you fuck me, I’ll book you a shoot in Vogue USA.” The sender? Terry Richardson. In any case, someone who operated a Facebook account under this name.

The world on fire

I think it buzzed in model land three minutes later. The famous photographer who is certainly not averse to a bit of porn on the left and a touch of sensuality on the right was in the eye of the storm. Shame! cried one. It's time this comes to light, said the other. I too pushed my pen into the sour ink. For men like Terry, there was the door's gap.

Correction, please

Not long ago, I came across the magazine of the New York Times. Terry was on the cover with a portrait. Then you know immediately; he contributed to the story. From line three, I was ashamed. Destroyed by public bullying. How a man with a thirty-year career is chopped up like this, hats off, by social media.

What a b*llshit

“I don’t even have a Facebook account. And I haven’t worked for Vogue in four years.” Spoke a defeated Terry in his studio. “What a f*cking b*llshit this is.” After that alleged Facebook message and the tweeted screenshot, the gentlemen journalists got to work.

Terry in the corner

Oh, oh, oh how diligent they were. All of Terry's clients, former clients, or potential clients. Louis Vuitton, H&M, they were all neatly called off. Just until the whole list was finished. “Would you, assuming the story of Terry Richardson's sexual harassment is true, still work with him?” “Of course not!” said the brands. Afraid to appear politically incorrect. Today's topic of conversation. That tomorrow the fish is in and Terry is in a corner? Who cares.

Fooling around with Vogue USA

I too was swept up in the maelstrom of people-with-an-opinion. Dirty man, that Terry. Time for this kind of type to be dealt with. But now I also saw that the phenomenon of hearing both sides seems to have been completely wiped out in the age of social media. That costs a career. And let's be honest. Aside from the fact that I find Terry an extremely unattractive little man, photographers of his stature (with a daily rate of a staggering $160,000 per day) are always assured of the company of drafty models. He really doesn’t need a disgusting and life-threatening Facebook message and fooling around with a magazine he doesn’t even work for.

For my own inner stability, this piece had to be written. I say it loud and clear. Terry for president. Amen.