Wednesday, March 23, 2011

America's Next Top Model... oooor not.

Last week my hair guy, Ian, called me up out of the blue and said that they were doing a photoshoot for the salon on Monday and asked if I would come in and model for them since he had recently cut my hair. Even though my modeling experience is limited to a single runway show for JC Penney's when I was 8 (that I believe took place at a zoo), I thought it sounded like a fun, girly adventure, so I agreed.

I was told to show up at the salon at noon with clean, dry hair and bring something to wear that was strapless and not black or white. Easy enough.

I walk in and they have camera stuff strewn everywhere and Matthew Tully, the salon namesake, is working on giving a petite platinum blonde a very vogue-esque mohawk. Upon further inspection I note that she is wearing a black leather bustier, black leggings, and thigh high black leather boots and had this crazy glittery eyeshadow going on. I look over at another girl with fire engine red hair and she is wearing a black satin cocktail dress. I had brought a floor length, flowy coral maxi dress that was purchased on the beach in Hawaii.  Hmm.....

Note to self: if one ever finds oneself in further modeling situations, bring more options. More scantily clad options.

So Ian does my hair (seriously, why does it always look 1,000 times better when someone else does it?!?) and the make-up artist dolls me up with airbrush foundation, false lashes, liquid liner, the works.

Sidenote: can you imagine being a guy and not having access to all these sneaky vehicles of trickery? Sad.


Afterwards, I was told to grab a chair and wait (hence the self portrait- I was bored), as they were currently shooting the petite blonde mohawk'ed dominatrix*.

*She did have a name and she was very nice, but I just don't remember what it was. That's so rude of me, but unfortunately in this post she will have to be referred to as The Mohawk'ed Dominatrix.

I settle back to watch the shoot and start to get a little nervous when I realize that The Mohawk'ed Dominatrix is a regular Derek Zoolander. I mean, she was standing on top of furniture, "rawr-ing" for the camera, the whole nine yards. I'll give anything the old college try, but I had to think that I might look a little silly making animal noises in flowy silk beachwear.

The Mohawk'ed Dominatrix wraps up setting the model-posing-bar far out of my stiletto'd barefoot reach and pops back into the chair for a hairstyle change when Ian tells me I'm up. So just before I head over to get my Gisele on, Matthew Tully turns and looks at me and tells Ian that he better do something with my hair because "it's going to look really boring on camera". In Ian's defense, it looked cute, but Matthew was right- compared to the previous model I may as well have had it tucked into a bun under an Amish Bonnet.

So Ian grabs a tease comb and a bottle of hairspray and starts going to town. At one point he had me shaking my head upside down while he sprayed what was likely half a can of pricey hairspray into my hair. The end result was very big and made me feel ten times more "Vogue" à la The Mohawk'ed Dominatrix. Game on!

The photographer had me perch on the edge of a banquette while the he told me in his heavy foreign accent to flirt with the camera (seriously, that actually happened) and kept yelling to breathe through my mouth, not my nose. (Not sure why? Perhaps it's a nostril flaring issue?) Ian stood close by ready to repoof and adjust how the ends fell around my shoulders as-needed. Thankfully, the adjustments usually also involved covering up that fatty underarm area that my elastic-top, strapless dress had a tendency to squish. Win-win! (And seriously, bring more options...)

My part of the shoot only lasted about 15 minutes. Leading me to believe that I'm either a damn good model and they got what they needed very quickly OR the foreign dude realized early on that I wasn't going to "rawr" for him and I should expect a call from Ian later this week gently letting me know they won't be using my photos. (I'm thinking the latter) Either way, it really was a lot of fun!


While walking to my car, I caught a glimpse of myself in a store window and had to laugh. The make-up looked fabulous there, but when I put my normal Monday business attire back on and headed out into the real world I determined that I kind of looked like a prostitute, transvestite, or a Kardashian (or a mix of all three). I decided to test this theory and send a picture to my favorite gay bf:


Tranny jokes aside, I should say that I was very impressed with the make-up artist. She was really good, but I think doing make-up for photos is obviously much different (and more heavy-handed) than for everyday life. I would recommend her in a heartbeat for weddings, etc. if I could only remember her name. And for all you Dallas girls, I can't stress enough how talented Ian Flannigan is... go see him if you need a great hair guy!

So there you have it- my little modeling adventure! I'll post pictures next week when I get them!

3 comments:

Maggie said...

Ahhh, I am cringing through your modeling descriptions! You have a much better attitude about this stuff than I do. At our wedding our photographer was terrified about my utter inability to pose. So embarrassing. You, on the other hand, look fantastic!

melissa said...

You make one hot tranny! JK! You're gorgeous and I can totally see why they'd ask you to model! And I love that you were so gung ho about the whole thing. I would have run crying from the salon when the Mohawked Dominatrix started purring. If you get your hands on any of the pictures I hope you'll share them with us!

missris said...

Wow I'm not sure what I would have done in this situation! Sounds like you were a better sport than I would have been able to be. The makeup looks great! Although I agree, I probably wouldn't wear that much in everyday life.