In the U.S., commercial directors are basically on the same level as Hollywood feature directors. A ton of them cross over all the time. You'll see an ad and think, "Wait, that style looks exactly like a Ridley Scott joint," and yep; it probably is.
David Fincher, Michael Bay; legends who cut their teeth on commercials. Some of the best-looking 60-second stories on the planet come out of that world, and brands lose their minds paying top dollar for a big-name director because they know a truly cinematic ad can hit harder than most two-hour movies.
Joey understood the game: the simpler the story, the deeper it sticks. So for H&M's "Unleash Your True Self" campaign, she wrote something dead-simple:
A high-society girl who's spent her whole life forced to be the perfect lady suddenly snaps. She rips off the ballgown, the pearls, the rules. At midnight she slips into something sexy and dangerous, turns into a full-on seductress, and lets the dark side out to play.
That's it. Sixty shots, 100 seconds, almost every frame centered on Joey herself. Her job? Look so gorgeous the audience forgets how to blink.
She honestly had no clue if she could pull it off; she'd never been the one in front of the camera. She just knew she had to try to make herself look unreal.
She came prepared with full storyboards: 60 panels, every beat mapped out. She handed them to the DP and basically said, "You've shot way more faces than I have. I can't see myself, so you tell me what actually looks hot."
The DP? Some quiet French grandpa who didn't look like much… until you Googled him and realized you'd just hired Jean-Baptiste Mondino, the guy who made every supermodel and pop star look like a god for the last thirty years.
He just gave a little shrug and said, "Don't worry. I've been shooting beautiful women my entire life. I know exactly what to do with you."
Then Joey went to hair and makeup.
When she stepped out for the first setup, she was in a backless white silk gown with a crystal-embroidered cape that looked like liquid moonlight. The second Mondino saw her face, he started grinning like he'd won the lottery.
Perfect bone structure. Flawless proportions. Forehead high and smooth, jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Front view, three-quarter view; didn't matter, every angle worked.
He clocked it instantly: her eyes and mouth were the money shots. Those eyes needed bold, sharp brows to drag every gaze straight to them. Her lips were naturally thin and pointed; lethal little weapons.
Black hair, black brows; no need to dye anything. Just shape the brows razor-thin at the tails. Done.
The man saw edges everywhere: cheekbones, eye corners, nose tip, cupid's bow; all sharp, all precise. The kind of face that looks even better in harsh lighting than soft. Born for still photography and slow-motion close-ups.
First setup: the "perfect princess" half.
Downstairs: a masked ball glowing gold like an oil painting.
Upstairs: Joey at the vanity, all soft and angelic. Sweet, dreamy, the girl every mother wishes her son would bring home.
She touches the mirror with delicate fingers. Mondino bathes her skin in warm, honeyed light. Close-up on the eyes; close-up on the lips. She looks like a Disney princess who's about to ruin your life.
Then; snap.
She yanks the pearl necklace so hard it explodes across the floor.
The gown drops. Bare back, perfect spine, shoulder blades like wings.
Cut to her standing between fractured mirrors at midnight.
Everything flips.
The lighting goes cold, moody, electric. She's in a deep-purple, low-cut, backless dress that basically screams "sin." Crimson lips, gothic liner, expression sharp enough to draw blood.
Slow-motion zip sliding up her naked spine.
Every step is pure attitude. Every glance is a dare.
She storms up a massive spiral staircase, train dragging behind her like a queen on a warpath.
At the very top, the crowd drops to their knees, kissing the hem of her dress.
Dark, cold, glamorous, gothic; the full vampire-succubus package, but make it fashion.
Mondino's camera worships her. By the end of it she looks like she could destroy empires with a smirk.
Final title card (to be added later):
"The past was beige.
The future is glorious.
Unleash your true self.
H&M."
They shot for three days.
Every single night Joey watched the dailies and had the same thought: Who the hell is that woman?
She looked like a completely different species; sweet and sugary one minute, lethal and hypnotic the next.
She kept waiting to see flaws and instead just saw… perfection? Her own face, but dialed up to weaponized beauty.
She genuinely started to feel bad for hogging the camera from actual models.
When she took the rough cut to the VFX guy, he kept glancing between her and the monitor like he was doing mental math.
Joey laughed nervously. "I know, I know; screen-me and real-me look like cousins at best, right?"
He shook his head. "No, you look exactly the same. It's just… real-life you is missing that predatory edge the camera's giving you. That's Mondino magic."
Then he added, "But the princess stuff at the beginning? That's actually dead-on you in real life."
He stared a little longer and finally said, "I rarely see an Asian face that completely bridges Eastern and Western beauty standards like this. On camera you look exotic to Americans and glamorous to Europeans at the same time. You were built for this."
Joey left post-production every day half in love with herself; it was getting embarrassing.
The final 100-second spot rendered out, she shipped it off to H&M corporate.
She figured they'd be happy with a cool director who delivered a solid ad.
Their reaction was… not that.
Everyone at H&M who saw the cut lost their actual minds.
"We hired a great director… how did we accidentally discover a woman more stunning than any supermodel we've ever booked?!"
"Joey, how are you THIS beautiful?!"
"We had no idea you looked like THAT on camera!"
"This drops and you're about to cause a global 'who is she' moment!"
Hiring Mondino was the best money they never planned to spend.
Joey just sat there blushing, secretly thrilled, thinking:
…Maybe being in front of the camera isn't the worst thing in the world.