My career thus far has had some amazing highlights. I have also endured some seriously unusual… I won’t say regrettable… jobs. There was the time I had to dress as a keg and walk around Parramatta serving beer to people (ok maybe there are a few moments that could be described as regrettable), and yesterday I did some filming with another girl for a tickling fetish website (yes, they exist) whereby we were tied up (fully clothed) and took it in turns to tickle each others feet.

Let’s face it; the highlights never make for the best stories.

On my first week in Paris I was booked on a two hour shoot to film ten “mini stripteases” for a French website. I was collected from my studio and driven by the photographer out into the suburbs of Paris . The shooting took place in an old fashioned Parisian mansion and was going really well until he seemed to run out of indoor locations (to be fair, there are only so many ways you can work the same couch) and he suggested we film some of my clips outside.

Ok, just how unobservant can a photographer be? Paris in the autumn is hardly outdoors weather, let alone naked and outdoors weather. Desperate for an excuse not to go outside, I gestured to my wardrobe selection (black, satin, lace) and said that perhaps such attire was more suited to an indoor setting. He indicated he had some alternatives in the car, returning with a cheap Halloween costume in a packet (for those of you who would like to know, it was a witch – complete with pointy hat).

My mind reeled: How many ways can I say “non”?!?! I think he got the message from the vehement shaking of my head.

I then pointed to my high heels and explained that the grass covered backyard would be inappropriate for such footwear. He responded by pointing toward the front yard which had a paved area on which I could dance without sinking.

I resigned myself to dancing naked in someone’s front yard, separated from the street by a fence made of twigs. It was a bitter 8 degrees, so I entertained myself by screaming “Argh! – Il fait froid” (“Argh! – It is cold”) every time my face was turned away from the camera (I assume they will dub this before it goes online).

In the middle of one set the owner of the house wandered in the front gate. I got no word of warning or explanation from the photographer, so stopped still, stark naked and said “hi” with a weak smile.

She seemed unfazed by the presence of a naked Australian girl in her front yard and merely observed:

“Il fait froid”

Nothing gets past these French people.