
The portrait studio section of an unknown Sears.
My sister and I cannot smile.
Okay, that’s not entirely true–we have the muscle function that is necessary to smile, but if you ask us to sit for a picture and smile for the camera, it’s likely you won’t get a genuine smile out of either of us. Instead, you’ll get what we refer to as “The Panarese Smile.”
A smile that is not so much an expression of happiness or delight as it is a grimace of discomfort or pain, The Panarese Smile has been a constant presence in family pictures since around the time the two of us were teenagers. Any time we got together with our extended family–usually a holiday like Christmas or Easter–all of the cousins would be corralled into one area of the house and have to sit for pictures. And when those pictures came out, you’d see that nancy and I looked like having our pictures taken was the absolutely last thing we wanted to do. In fact, in some of the pictures taken when I was in high school or college, I not only look like I’m in pain but my expression is downright hostile, as if I were saying, “You dragged my ass all the way out here and now you want me to pose for a picture? How dare you!”
I have no explanation as to why I was such a bitchy teenager. My life wasn’t hard and I had no reason to truly rebel. But I was just moody and bitchy half the time, and it would be especially so among my family during picture time. More than likely, I was annoyed that taking pictures meant that I had to put my book down or that I had to stop watching whatever game or movie I’d parked myself in front of to endure what seemed like endless torture at the hands of my mother and aunts.
Until I had to endure the portrait sessions of weddings, I had no idea how painful a photography session could be, but at fifteen or sixteen I wasn’t there yet so there was nothing more annoying than being asked to sit on the front porch of my grandmother’s house with the sun shining directly in my eyes while people with cameras yelled “Over here! Tommy! Look over here! Now over here!”
Actually, that’s a lie. There was one thing worse than several of those sessions put together. The Sears Portrait Studio. (more…)