6: 34(240): Im 5ish mins away! : )
6:45 (703): Wait we r meeting in the entrance[...] right? Lol!
Okay, so in theory I was actually twenty minutes away. But still. Usually a casting would have the models filter in at the start time(7). If you're more than at least 15 minutes early, then you have no life. Seriously. Nevertheless, I arrived ten minutes early to find that surprisingly the masses had already congregated. I spotted a few familiar faces and exchanged long lost greetings halfheartedly as I located the registration table. A few things ran through my mind: Am I dressed appropriately? Did I arrive on time? Is my food showing? The dining hall dash can do wonders for my small frame.
WHAT? Ok. So I had to sign a consent form and fill out my measurements. I am grateful that they didn't take my measurements themselves so I fudged them a bit. So sue me? I gave myself an inch less in my waist and hips and a couple for my bust. Ha, ha.
"Okay models, line up by number." I was 21, 22...my friend was 23. The remaining models numbered through thirty something filed behind me. I've been in pageants, and fashion shows since I was 4, but in that one instant, in line with my peers, I lost every shred of confidence I had mustered in the interim between my face- to-face mirror pep talk and the change into my suede Guess pumps moments ago. Pumps... should I be pumped up? But I digress.
"Remember, be fierce!" the director shouted . Channel Christian Siriano. Easier said than done! A friend of mine cut both Siriano's hair and mine at one point, but that's a story for another time. Number 22, a chiseled, medium height, brown haired male filed in behind me.
"Are you nervous?" He asked. Like you read my mind! Ha!
"Omigosh yes I am! I didn't think I would be!" I gushed, somewhat uncertain. Would my verbal admission confirm my inner disbelief? Yes, this was actually happening. I was at another model call. Last time I'd been to a casting, I was declared, at 5 feet tall and 6.5 inches, hopelessly too short for runway. I could only be made use of in print ads. The ultimate curse word to my ears: print ads. Print ads. Print ads, print ads,
PRINT ADS!
Print ads, the words echoed in my head even as I stood 21st in line. My mind snapped back to the present. Number 10 had gone.
"Could we have someone who's done it before show everyone how it's done? So y'all can get the tempo? Hey '______' come over here and show everyone what we're expecting!" A waif-like figure in black stovepipe jeans, a close-fitting white tee and a paisley metallic blue vest sauntered up to the firing line. Our line then became a cluster. I was at that moment, as I tried to peer over all those shoulders, aware that maybe I really am that short. A staggering admission.
I readily looked on. There are different types of the alleged "Model walk". None are ever "bad" per se, just different. Usually the designer will give you some sort of direction as to how they want their line represented. It's the ability to capture the magic behind getting paid to wear clothes and making them look wearable, which gives you mastery of the runway. How alluring!
Twenty was walking down the atrium's "runway". I was seconds away from walking as the entire expanse stretched out before me like a narrow dead end hallway in a horror film.
My turn. T Channel, left, right, left, right. Opposite shoulder with opposite leg. Shoulders back, suck in your gut. Display an apathetically fierce and neutral face. What should my lips be doing? Crap. Don't trip. Step to the left of the runway, pause, look at the audience then walk to the right. Do I return to center? Geez I think I butchered it!
"Okay, I want to see fierce! FIERCE! I want to see confidence! And this time you all will walk two at a time!" Okay director, okay. Number 22 was my partner. Excellent.
One of my fellow models, seen below, commented before I snapped this photo:
"Your second walk was much better!"
"You think?" I said. I have a terrible habit of wrinkling my nose to punctuate my statements.
"Yeah! I think everyone was more nervous the first time. I know I was! But the second time we both said, man she's got it down this time!"
"Really? Had it been another casting though then--"
"Right. Omigosh I know!" We both nodded vigorously in agreement. If it had been another casting, you're lucky if you get one shot. In some cases, you're sized up and shipped out the moment you walk through the door. No walking for you!
By the time I had photographed some of the fashionable individuals and made my way home, the numbers were posted. I scrolled down and there it was, 21. What a lucky number!
First fitting on Monday. I know what I'm not eating this weekend. See you all on Monday! This model/ fashion critic has to post this week's fashion sightings! : )
Here are some of the models from the casting:
Love, love LOVE her outfit! : )
Much love,
<3 SF
<3 SF
