You know ... the more I look at these colors the more fun I think they are. Just look at 'em. Starting from the front we've got ...
- Riot Gear Noir: obviously this is the most durable finish and will be best suited for protecting yourself from zombies, Parisian rioters, and traffic stops in America. To be hung from one's neck over the heart at all times, Riot Gear Noir also features protection from ballistics - perfect for today's dangerous streets or in your microcar after being late to pick up your future Italian mother-in-law, and surviving those deep night exploits at ill-chosen URBEX destinations by your love's youngest brother who insists that you're family now after asking you to look after a package for a few days. As a bonus, you have an instant passport to the International parts of Texas if you can source a weapon of some kind with a matching texture.
- Swiss Banker Grey: the perfect choice for refining those afternoon-sun compositions from your 3rd story office window overlooking Lac de Lucerne just before short meetings with panicking clients, or on those slow days when you need to take a moment to impress Beatrise, the new intern observing you in contemptuous stony silence. On the way home, do take a moment to slip out of your Porsche Cayenne Turbo, en grisé also, of course, to snap those verdant mountain valleys with the biggest Z mount zoom available, and then scoot on back to use those 8 stops of VR to take evening shots of your all-new stainless steel kitchen vunderland to submit for a spread in next month's L’Architecture d’Aujourd’hu. Friends, I'm telling you right now, don't sleep on the grey because this color can do it all!
- Bordeaux Rouge: queue the accordéon because, as we've already established, this is certainly the color I will take. Upon arrival I will promptly start referring to my camera by its new name, MAGNUM, which will imbue me with the confidence I so desperately need in my late-middle age years to learn how to flirt with my spouse again. Genuine Bordeaux being a luxury of the past after using our life savings to purchase this engineering marvel, I promise that only the finest 3 euro Cahors will be spilt across its rich patina, sent flying off the table, landing softly with cinematic perfection on the linoleum whilst filming in 4K, and flung without worry due to its indestructible Nikon reputation before embracing my loving wife in explosive fits of passion after having shared the most beautiful macro shots of bugs and flowers from the lush green thickets found right here near our home in Overdose Valley.
- Apéro Orange: sure to be a hit with the young urban female demographic that Nikon promised investors they'll undoubtedly reach this time, and just like the flourish of Charlotte Gainsbourg's fashionably out-of-control dress on the Red Carpet at the celebrity and Royalty stocked Versailles dinner party last week, Apéro Orange will take your photography and your life to new heights and easily forgotten lows incurred by petits lapses in good judgement, all fueled by the paparazzi worthy aesthetics of your new kit and a fresh matching outfit. You will be the talk of the town at nighttime decadent rooftop bars adorned with billowing tablecloths and clinking champagne filled crystal flutes that create perfectly vignetted shots when used as a lens to frame up the Eiffel tower, then you'll spend your days rubbing elbows with Peter Turnley at Café de Flore to jot down quips of priceless advice for snapping endless streams of chic B&W and impossibly microcontrast heavy shots of beautiful and fashionable strangers. Rolling in the money you saved from the no-hopes possibility of ever owning your own flat, you'll soon find yourself headed for the beautiful Côte d'Azur with a new mission to deftly chase, capture, and preserve all of life's scrumptious highlights as you can, sliding across the wet retina destroying sun bleached decks of probably-not-oligarch owned yachts taking concerning amounts of time to find a slip assignment in exotic ports of call, tens of kilometers away from the safety of either a TGV station back home or the false comfort of perennially unconcerned Mediterranean police, too busy ignoring growing stacks of reports between aromatic slices of saucisson and the occasional shouting on the phone at callers to re-dial the 15 if they want to reach the SAMU for a medical emergency.
*sips on a Nespresso* next up!
- Birken-Rave Brown: built to withstand the harshest conditions of storm drenched and secondary-high drug laced fields, you won't remember Frauke but she will certainly have remembered the way she felt while you took those photographs you're now reviewing days later with one eye closed, still finding new bits of grit behind the finish and wondering about the frightening rash and bruising that mysteriously appeared just on your hips. For years you will be doomed to suffer the kind of sadness that only old ravers can know, haunted by jagged bobbed haircuts bouncing in the laser lit chaos, piercing visions of blue eyes and ripped neon leotards in wee hours of the night, and the whispers of fever dream promises of dark Berlin clubs that never. shut. down. Like so many splinters in your mind you won't be able to shake those lurid visions, the stench of humid tents, or decode the blurry modular-synth fueled JPEGS that look like a disjointed Hieronymus Bosch panorama juxtaposed against the tawdriest of amateur boudoir galleries. A decade later just remind yourself: you chose this path, and yes - she's still out there. Probably working full-time now in finance, and still heartbroken that you lost her email address while she robotically makes diaper changes on the children she's a mother to now, married off to her 2nd cousin's least-best friend that she met at a wedding. "If only he'd look at me like that Nikon guy did on my big holiday trip back in the day." You putz.
Vert von Greta: whether documenting the horrors of intensive grasshopper farming or video recording your comrades being dragged away from a rush hour traffic circle by angered commuters, the deepest of earth tone greens is here to align your outrage chakras and prepare you for the very serious work of avoiding permanent employment. Able to mask the occasional drop into the olive bar on those secret escapades with a trust fund lover, Vert von Greta is your unflinching companion while fighting back the Gaia oppressors in their death machines, recording the hushed accounts of crimes committed against the earth, and kicking off your new media-blog on Substack while trying to keep rent paid by taking product photos of hand knit babywear from your auntie Ellanore's side-hustle on Etsy. On the plus side, you will develop a mastery of the new Pixel Shift modes that no one else could possibly hope to top, skills that will eventually be incalculably precious when you go on to crack the next Monsanto.
Politburo Bleu: last but not least, we have the choice for hard working bureaucrats, autocrats, and technocrats everywhere from Seville to Stockholm. This camera blends in just as effortlessly with 18th century mahogony and your mistress' pearls as it does pretending to step out for a run to instead disappear for afternoon street photography sessions, punctuated by your normal stop-off at the sidewalk cafe to leverage the retro shutter release cable to snap close-ups of your subjects while the camera hides underneath a newspaper filled with heart crushing headlines and desperately needed insights into a range of topics and matters that you just can't be bothered with right now. Steeling yourself for an evening on talk television filled with merciless attacks by political opponents wearing round glasses and spitting what might turn-out to be facts, take the opportunity to first steal away behind the scenes for a few selfies with the producers, the guests, and the hosts, and be comforted by the security and peace-of-mind that the Zf's flippy screen and manual controls are there to keep your hands focused on not making tomorrow's headlines. Don't worry because you got this. Besides, holidays are always around the corner.
~ to Nikonistas with love, la fin~
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