Every night before I drift off to sleep, I either voluntarily or involuntarily participate in what I call my pre-slumber worryfest. It’s very simple; instead of sleeping, I worry about shit. Shit I deign to get out of bed and do instead of just continuing to worry about it. It’s like what those hyper-religious folk do with the flogging, except I’m making myself go crazy. I’ll lay awake worrying about how I need to write this article, or I need to publish that wedding, or I need to address this crippling state of depression that befalls me every time I remember I’ll be doing the physical birthing of our baby, or I need to pick up that dog food, etc. — you know the drill. (If you actually know the drill then you know the list goes on forever and involves things like simple 3-minute tasks I simply refuse to cross off the list by doing, and emails I’ve put off for so long that at this point if I write back they’ll see how long it’s been since they wrote me and realize I’m a TERRIBLE person, blah blah blah etc.)
Fortunately for you today’s post is not about every little thing that keeps me up at night. That’s next week.
Today I talk about the dresses – and particularly, the models – in the photos you’re about to see, which are from when I hopped backstage at The Ritz-Carlton with Romona Keveza‘s team about an hour before the first runway show was set to start (for her evening wear collection – Fall 2013 Romona Keveza RTW). These photos make my worry list almost every night. Why? Mostly because I’ve been meaning to show you them forever and I’ve been putting them off, to write “a meaningful post” about “how models are real people,” or some shit. So we’ll see how this goes…
ME TRYING TO WRITE A MEANINGFUL POST ABOUT MODELS
When the long and lean walk the runway, I can’t help but look up to them. I literally can’t help it they’re the only ones standing in the room (also the catwalk is typically raised above eye level). But it goes past awe and admiration. Jealousy of the bodies and faces I’ve been taught to see as superior to my body and face kicks in a bit each time, and when I’m least expecting it. It’s neat, actually- we live in a society where only certain bodies and faces are worthy of veneration, even if only for the fact that these bodies and faces are super unique, and have eluded the rest of us. Oh, how we punish ourselves.
So what do you do when you’re met with a conundrum like this? Well I think the natural next step, at least for me, is to try and cope; to write them off as sterile emotionless bitch robots, is one way. There’s also the feigning of pity for them and their diets, when we talk with our friends. But my personal fave is to tell myself I’m cool with it. That I don’t have a desire to be simultaneously pretty and physically perfect. ROTFL. But no matter which one you go with, the outcome is generally to not like models.
So the playfulness in these candid photos we shot is something I love, and have been really looking forward to showing you. (In other words, I’m doing a “Stars, They’re Just Like Us!” piece here, except it’s models and they’re wearing the fucking prettiest dresses in the world.)
The impeccable Casey Fatchett was with me to capture it all, I think he did a GREAT job.
Little side story: when I first arrived at this show I was guided into a hair and makeup room where models were in chairs getting their hair did. So I walk in the room and do my thing which is to sort of awkwardly stand still in the corner and take it all in, and then try to pinpoint the person most likely not to outright reject having a conversation with me. Because remember I’m crazy. Anyway so I’m doing this thing, and one of the stylists goes “WHO ARE YOU” out of nowhere, so in my least confident most question-marky sounding insecure voice I go, “Oh, I’m um, a blogger?” and she goes:
“Oh- I’m an alcoholic! It’s nice to meet you.”
Let me just say here that I hate introducing myself as a blogger. No one wants to hear that shit, I get it! What the F am I supposed to call myself though. Please don’t say “writer” because that feels even more self-important than blogger. Best option I think is to simply not go out and meet people. Alright! That’s settled.
And now, these lovely dresses.
~ LIST TIME: 15 WAYS MODELS ARE JUST LIKE US ~
If you’re digging this hair, btw– I spoke with Kérastase’s lead stylist Nina Dimachki about the look and she considers it “uptown/modern cool girl” who digs listening to Adele and Amy Winehouse, may she rest in peace. Sorry it got weird just now.
1. They get anxious.
2. They get bored. And this sometimes leads to BRF (bitchy resting face).
I am a longtime sufferer of BRF, or what I like to call “not worrying that my face’s comfort-pose makes me look like I want to have you killed.” Because COMFORT. POSE.
3. They get silly and do “snaps.”
4. And then check themselves before they wreck themselves (aka, they make sure nothing popped out).
5. If they see a mirror, they see a flaw that needs fixing.
6. They drink water! (It’s not just Diet Coke and cigarettes, as I had been led to believe.)
7. They check themselves out doing every day things, like drinking water.
8. They spin their dresses. (I don’t always wear dresses, but when I do… I DEF twirl them.)
9. They give side eye.
10. They shield their bellies with their arms.
11. They blink when they have their picture taken.
12. They are constantly fussing with their outfits, to make sure they look just so.
13. They do The Fishing Pole.
14. They get embarrassed when they’re caught.
15. They know practice makes perfect, and are literally the opposite of cocky when it comes to their jobs…
Models. They’re almost exactly like us (except for the looking amazing at all times part).