So I was intrigued when a friend I’d met when I first moved up here asked if I would help model for a photoshoot in Brooklyn. She knew someone who owned a small clothing company, mostly specializing in religious scarfs, belts, totes, etc.
I weighed the pros and cons in my head and based my decision off one thing: it’s an experience. “You’ve never done it and you’ll probably never do it again,” I told myself.
Plus I could blog about it.
“Yeah. Sure, I’ll help out,” I replay via Facebook. The plans were constructed throughout the next week. Where to meet, what to bring, my sizes… everything was slowly being pieced together. Before long it was Saturday night, and I had less than 12 hours before I needed to be headed towards Brooklyn.
But of course it wasn’t that easy. The weekend was busy, and collectively between Friday and Saturday I’d gotten about 11 hours of sleep – which honestly, isn’t that bad for me, but I was beginning to stress about the looming bags under my eyes and the amount of chocolate I’d consumed throughout Valentine’s Day week.
How shamefully “girly.”
Never the less, I woke up Sunday at 8am and showered after chugging a huge glass of water. I stayed away from coffee because it can give me the jitters, and picked at an apple and some bread.
Eck. I was nervous.
I made it to Brooklyn easily enough and found the row of warehouses that people rent out for events like this. I only got lost once, accidently walking into a factory where a bunch of workers were making wires. “Whoops. Sorry. Not for photos,” I say, heading a block over to the correct warehouse. I mean… they all look the same.
Enthusiastically I was thrown into a whirlwind of hair and makeup. For nearly an hour and a half I was brushed, flat-ironed, curled, primed, and painted. The girls attacking my hair and face were nothing short of fabulous – they gave me doll-like vintage red lips and cheeks with wavy ringlets I could only dream of creating. The transformation from tired mess to a vintage success was certainly a noteworthy accomplishment for them.
Canvases were being moved here and there to catch the correct lighting, and I was changing in and out of clothing, heels, and accessories. There were two male models, and three of us girls. We were all freezing, and perpetually throwing on the scarves that were not being used during the photoshoot. You see, rentable warehouses do not have heating – so wearing a little skirt and thin cotton shirt was not ideal.
But it was a “model moment!” I could almost hear Tyra Banks screaming, “Look fierce girls!” as we all smiled and fought through freezing fingers. My sister’s and I had practiced for this moment many a time, striking laughable poses… and now it was real!
I tottered in high heels, almost got stuck in a small pencil skirt, was freezing, hungry, told I looked great, told I looked not-so-great, and positioned a zillion different ways… but it was fun for a few hours! The shoot was like playing a part, or acting out the role of “model,” which is so different from reality that I found the afternoon to be hilariously enjoyable. I really loved the photographer, who made the posing easy, and I’d say we all had quite an experience, which was exactly what I was looking for.
But the best part of my day?
The huge everything bagel I rewarded myself with after the shoot ;)
1 comment:
LOVE THIS BLOG!!!!! The way you described it, I felt I was there watching the photo shoot!! How exciting the whole experience must have been. You are turning into such a New Yorker!! Love your pic!!!! :) :) :)
Post a Comment