katwalk
Well, spank my ass and call me Sally. Apparently I AM enough to impress the judges.

My friend(?) Cole called me randomly last Tuesday to share the news that the Eugene Ballet Company is hosting a fashion show/fundraiser party and had scheduled a Saturday audition for models. As usual, I stored the tidbit in the back of my mind and didn't think much of it till I saw Cole at the gym on Friday. On a whim, I gave the EBC a call, found out I needed ten bucks (railroading models is a favorite scheme) and a casual photo to audition, but no portfolio or resume.

Last night, I printed this photo out before going to see Sin City and this morning threw on some clothes and makeup after four hours restless sleep (for other reasons) to bike to the Hult center for the open call. Silly me, I'm such an amateur that I didn't realize an "open call" meant "come any time during the scheduled duration," not "be there from 9 to 12." I was in and out in fifteen minutes and found myself sitting at home at 9:30AM on a Saturday morning, fully awake and showered with not a clue what to do.

The audition consisted of me blindly stumbling into line with fifty or so high school girls who had been escorted by their mothers. I think I was the only one who wasn't in dress heels (I wore heeled leather boots, a sweater and jeans) and I'm certain I'm the only one who biked to the audition. I filled out a form with my name, phone number, height, dress/suit size, address, and past experience. For past experience (where/what) I wrote "Japan, minor fashion show, bank merchandise catalogue." I don't know why I felt the need to write "Japan" because I didn't do any REAL modeling to speak of when I lived there, but I do credit myself with the experience of registering with an agency and auditioning, even if I wasn't paid for anything. Saying I modeled in Japan just sounds so... prestigious.

Anyways, what happened next took all of seven minutes. One to hand my $10 check to the cashier while she checked that I had a photo in order, five to stand in line, thirty seconds to talk to the judges, fifteen seconds to walk and fifteen to say goodbye. Apparently "Japan" did sound prestigious because one judge asked me about it and all I could think to stumblingly reply was "it was really minor." I think she still assumes I was sent over there rather than that I studied there and attempted modeling to eke out a living. Oh well.

I saw that everyone else had done the same lame down and back walk with a rare bout of flair, so I slung my coat over my shoulder and postured a bit, praying that I didn't look like an idiot. Afterwards, of course, I thought I did, and picked apart everything I'd said even though I knew I'd be doing that no matter what my responses had been. The fact is, even though I vested no real energy, self worth, time, or money into the event, I had thought it would be fun, and spent the better part of the morning preparing myself to be disappointed. The follow-up session for selectees is on Wednesday the 6th, so at least I knew I'd find out soon.

They called me at 8:30PM to tell me they wanted me. Me! For a fashion show! I keep thinking I'm the exception to the rule and that I'll stand out as the 22-year-old "all sizes" model among 35 of those underage waifs, or that I'll show up on Wednesday and get a look like "what are YOU doing here?" Regardless of what I look like, I honestly think I've never FELT enough like any kind of model to BE one. Now that I have the chance, I feel like I'm about to be found out for an impostor.

But I'm also really, REALLY excited. It'll be so much FUN to be primped and pampered and strut like a sexy lady. 'Twill add to my stress level for the next two weeks, as the show is on the 13th, but whatever. The less seriously I take it, the better I'll look.

First things first. I get a free cut and color from London Hair, a chintzy salon. Then I get fitted for clothes from Prose Dress, a boutique that sells high-end New York fashion and is conveniently located about 6 blocks from my house. Wednesday, I go back to Studio One at the Hult Center for "professional" training, then I walk on the 13th. I have a feeling there's more involved than that but the only other detail I have on record at the moment is that I get free ballet tickets-- for the upcoming show or for the season I'm not sure. Either way, hurrah!

I also don't know if I get to keep the clothing, should it be tailored to me. That would be FAN-tastic, but I don't expect it. I will be needing a pant suit or two soon for interviews and a "real" job, and I ought to look swank for Justin's grandpa's 90th b-day at the Four Seasons in Jackson Hole at the end of June... but pish posh, I'm sure something will come my way.

And that's a wrap for the time being. I promise I won't come out a redheaded waif, just maybe slightly more primped and princessy. Tickets to the "Cocktails and Coiture" fashion show are $25 or $35 runway-side-- Wednesday April 13th, "entertainment" included, cocktails probably not.

I just... can't believe it. *headdesk*