Maybe 6 is a lucky number, maybe that's why the Husband gave in. Either way. It was pretty much my favorite thing about Jackson Hole. We were wondering around trying to decide what to do, we just kind of drove up on a whim. I saw a picture in one of the shops, pointed to it and could think of nothing else.
To get dressed is quite an ordeal. First, they shove you towards a closet and "Have your boyfriend (Husband) pick out something' real nice for you, he'll choose real good." Second, they put you in a cereal box sized "dressing room" with a curtain. Then hand you, ahem, severely padded bras, which I assure you, I don't need padded bras. Then rip open the curtain to tie up your corset in front of a family who is luckily already dressed. Next, the Husband. He's been able to hide out for a minute, until the Armenian girl gets to him. She throws some clothes at him then puts on some chaps and ties them real tight, showing off his manly figure. Then top it off with a hat and multiple guns.
I mean really, they are fast and brutal. I started covering up my padded bras with my boa, but the photographer say "oh no darlin, you're covering up the good stuff." Then he hikes up my skirt, pull up the garder and places the cards there.
You know, I should have felt pretty violated, but for some reason, it didn't phase me.
Maybe because as soon as you are done, they immediately have you start stripping off your accessories, untie your corset (in front of yet another cute little family getting a western photo done in the Rockies instead of the Saloon.) and untie your skirt, while I am trying to keep everything together before entering into my cereal box dressing room. All in a days work, except they probably do it 20 times a day.
Either way, it was totally worth it to get this picture right?
Yes, it was.
And in case you are wondering about the lady in the background, I assure you, she was also probably wearing a severely padded bra. I could be wrong.