Modeling in Aspen

0
150

Modeling in Aspen

When I worked in film production I convinced Baddy to model for a few of our film and catalogue shoots to make some extra money on the side.

He reluctantly dressed in sweaters with animals leaping across the front and smiled for the photographers. I also got the boys to agree to model for free ski clothes.

Aspen is such a small town and going to cast calls is much more tolerable than it is in a large city, one doesn’t have to wait for hours in a room filled with desperate moms trying to make stars out of their children.

Having worked in the fashion industry as a Merchandising Editor for Seventeen Magazine, I am well attuned to the snobby, bitchy and catty people that think fabric and design are more important than friendships, but out here in the mountains, I figured things would be different.

Walking into the surprisingly empty casting room with my boys we waited for the bored, young, gum chewing woman to direct us on what to do. Rolling her eyes she threw clothes our way and continued to ignore us.

When a young handsome man came in behind us to also get his picture taken, I told the girl that I didn’t realize they were also casting adults and that the boys’ father was very good looking and had modeled for me when I worked in Casting. Her reply was an uninterested, “oh, really?” I wanted to tell her that I had mentioned it to her not just for small talk but in the event that they were keeping photos of entire families on file. Unable to resist the urge I mentioned that I too have been in various magazines and if they wanted to keep our whole family on file, maybe I should also get my photo taken. She bluntly said, “Well.we are not really taking photos of adults”. “Wait.so you’re actually NOT taking photos of adults after all?” I dubiously inquired. “Well, we are….but we’re not,” she said. “okaaaaay, so you don’t want to take a photo of me?” I replied, at this point I was pushing the envelope more for entertainment than anything else. Her reply? “Ahhhh, no.”

Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror I saw my hair was doing some strange fountain thing from the clip on the top of my head, like some bad 70’s style (or were they all bad?) and I made a note to myself to throw all of my clips away when I got home.

When I returned with the boys for the actual fashion show, things did not go much better. The time came for Hootie-Hoo to strut his cute little stuff down the runway, but he was absorbed in his borrowed Leapfrog and had no interest in cooperating, “Come on Hootie-Hoo, in the name of fashion please behave,” I pleaded as I peeled him off the scratchy carpet. I volunteered to hold his hand and go with him and literally dragged him down the runway holding the Leapfrog in front of his nose.

When we returned the next day, they immediately whisked Hootie-Hoo away from me stating that today he would be able to do the runway without his mommy. Watch out for the sharks I whispered as they tore his hand out of mine. I wanted to tell them that I worked for Seventeen Magazine and organized fashion shoots for international catalogues and that their piddly fashion show of amateur children walking up and down a plank to show snotty, poorly dressed merchants the winter designs, did not give them proper merit to be bitchy.

I mentioned to my friend that I couldn’t believe how wicked they all were. I left the back room to watch my adorable Hootie-Hoo slowly walk down the runway with his secret smile on his face. My friend came in and sat next to me and whispered into my ear, They are not being nice to you because you wore a Spider sweater yesterday. Shut the Front Door! I guess this was my bad after all.

Good thing I don’t work in this industry anymore – I’d be eaten alive!

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here


By submitting this form, you are consenting to receive marketing emails from: Aspen Real Life, 705 Hearthstone Drive, Basalt, CO, 81621, http://www.aspenreallife.com. You can revoke your consent to receive emails at any time by using the SafeUnsubscribe® link, found at the bottom of every email. Emails are serviced by Constant Contact