slithering heights
Should I write about my Modeling Experience? I’m sure everyone is sick of me. I already gave an interview to Vogue about how the hell I ended up there. When I arrived at the Proenza backstage and asked where to go the producer looked confused and said “for what?” And I said “modeling, I know, I’m just as shocked by it as you are.”
Anyway, I’m bewildered by the amount of press 5 minutes of walking in a straight line received. Maybe more than for writing a whole book? 1 I am extremely happy to be allowed to be ugly again, and ugly I am, as I have an extreme cold and keep sneezing into my hair. My main takeaway is: I would like a professional makeup artist to do my makeup every day for the rest of my life, and it’s crazy how gorgeous models are. Obviously these are not earth-shattering revelations.
I know the ANTM docuseries just came out but someone needs to protect the models right now. The girl standing behind me in the above picture was in New York for the first time for fashion week and was just deposited in some random apartment found for her by the agency on a spare room app. Two adult men were staying in the apartment who the agency had never met before!! She suspected one of them was trying to watch her!! She is now off to Europe but what the fuck? I’m glad she’s ok but I hope this isn’t the rule. I thought the “model apartments” were just unsafe shitholes with models packed in like sardines…
One more modeling tidbit. I have been to a few fashion shows in my time, and not one of them has started on time. Everyone is busy milling about with their friends and hugging acquaintances from the internet. Something I didn’t realize is the models are all ready backstage freezing their tiny asses off in a line next to their name written on a long piece of tape. As we went to line up I asked if I could quickly pee but was told by an incredibly apologetic stylist assistant that they’d have to resteam the dress and there wasn’t time. So I stood for a full 45 minutes waiting for the show to start with two bottles of Fiji water knocking around in my bladder and cotton mouth from anxiety that would rival a teenage stoner. If you see grit and determination in my face as I was doing the model walk, perhaps its because I was so busy trying to not piss my pants.
While I was “backstage” I enjoyed reading some Cynthia Ozick short stories. Actors was the one I was reading, which is about a struggling actor who gets a break playing King Lear as reinterpreted by a Yiddish theater actor’s daughter. The actor’s wife is a crossword constructor and Ozick threads words and facts you’d only find in crosswords throughout the story in such a genius way. Highly recommend.
My favorite in the collection is Envy, or Yiddish in America which is about writerly jealousy. A bitter Yiddish poet is furious that this Yiddish writer contemporary (an Isaac Bashevis Singer stand in) is the only one translated and widely known in English. He thinks he should be better known in English and complains endlessly to his friends, and eventually begs a young American Jew to translate his poems. Will told me to read it and he was right.
On to other things;
For Valentine’s day I made Will a handmade card with watercolors and my calligraphy set… I think they should sell them at John Derian.
I also got him some tea from Alice’s teacup and I couldn’t help but buy the Michelle Obama FLOTUS blend even though I then found out it’s rose blueberry flavored….
I bought some Japanese bath salts to help with my cold. I got the “Sleeping Aroma” but there was another called “Jewelry Rose.”
Will got me a Trudon candle for Valentines day and I feel like a spoiled brat (happy.)
I went to the Grey’s showroom and now I want to be wrapped in silk chenille. It’s funny this Vogue article called it an “essentials brand” but I guess it is essential that I get a floor-length cashmere knit coat.
Not to be so Gwenyth, but the makeup artist backstage said the best splurgeworthy foundation is Chantecaille. I don’t yet own foundation so I am tempted, but it says that 1 ounce costs 95 dollars. One ounce.
W Magazine listed me as a “Surprising Celebrity Model”, Harpers Bazaar and the New York Times both called me and the other models New York Global women or something?