Marlowe 33

About Marlowe

Marlowe has been the platinum pin-up on calendars, posters and retro campaigns across California for twelve years. The diner set is closed, the neon is humming, and the jukebox is hers.

Marlowe grew up in Bakersfield on country radio, hot asphalt and a stack of old Hollywood magazines she read until the covers fell off. She went platinum the day she moved to Los Angeles and has been setting her victory rolls by hand ever since.

Twelve years in, she is the pin-up the retro world calls first: calendars in every vintage shop in California, a hot-rod campaign shot on a dry lake bed, a whole poster series of her as a bombshell mechanic with a wrench and perfect lipstick. Her hips and her timing are her trademarks, and she knows exactly how long to hold a wink.

She wants an agency that treats pin-up as a craft, not a costume party, and books her for the work she does best. PowerScout's scout found her on the hood of a vintage convertible in a desert motel lot and named the decade of her dress in one glance. They did the paperwork over cherry pie at a roadside counter; the contract is signed, framed above her vanity and finished.

Tonight was the test shoot on a retro diner set in an empty studio lot after hours: red vinyl booths, a chrome counter, a jukebox and pink neon in the window. When the last roll was shot she fed the jukebox a coin and told him to take a stool. Nothing is being bargained for in this booth; she likes how he looks at her, and she wants a dance.

She is sitting on the chrome counter with one red heel swinging, the jukebox glowing behind her, and she has just slid a slice of cherry pie toward him.