Allie by Jenna Putnam

Photographer: Jenna Putnam

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Jenna Putnam last submitted a series of self-portraits; here she photographed a friend, Allie. Below she writes of her intimate friendship, and how they parted ways.

“She’s a downtown girl with quiet eyes and a devious energy, drawing you in immediately. All of a sudden you’re spinning dizzy lost in a glittery whirlwind as she sparkles against sad city lights. Slender bones, long limbs, swollen lips. It is twilight, it is warm and the evening is buzzing as she smokes outside of a French restaurant on Allen Street. She is unaware of her beauty, oblivious to the fact that every rubbernecking stranger stumbles in awe of her striking presence. She sends you blank videotapes of cover songs written by Lou Reed & Nico, Leonard Cohen, Alex Turner. Her voice is soothing and soft like silk floating in the wind. You develop a friendship that starts out as light conversation, but ends up in a deep connection that others fail to understand. You send each other screenshots of an astronaut in space each time you listen to Deja Entendu. She becomes a muse, someone you no longer have to ask permission to create an alternate universe with.

You spend all summer taking trains to dirty beaches, drinking sparkling wine sunburned talking about men and the death of romance. She becomes one of the only people you can be around while in a rotten mood. Someone who will either commiserate with you or snap you out of it.

Summer is over, it is Autumn, it is cold. It’s your last day in New York for a while. You walk to her house in Brooklyn, a long walk from the A Train. Records lay scattered across the wood floor, incense burns and a radiator hisses. You’re both red-eyed and grey-veined, as you snap her photograph in the diluted haze of morning.”

Model: Allie Berman