After yesterday’s gushy, romantic tale, I thought today would be a good time to amuse you with tales of my amazing modeling career. That’s right, my runway career wasn’t a lie. It was, however many, many years ago and very, very brief.
The scoop about my brief foray into the modeling world happened when I was six. My elementary school was trying to encourage parents to purchase non-mandatory school uniforms for their children. Since no one looks good in red, green, and brown plaid, the pinafores and kilts weren’t exactly flying off the shelves.
In an effort to boost sales, the store that sold these fabulous outfits decided to host a fashion show at the local church. I’m not exactly certain why my incredibly adorable self was selected to walk down the runway, but when the big night finally arrived I was one of many children lining up to receive a brief lesson in how to strut the catwalk like a professional.
This is exactly what I remember being told: Walk to the end of the stage, stop, turn slowly, pose, and smile. Then, look for your mummy or daddy out in the audience, smile, and turn around and walk back. In my defense, what happened next was really the fault of the person who gave me those instructions.
When my turn arrived, I smiled and walked to the center of the stage. I made my way to the end of the catwalk, turned, and smiled. I was on fire and the audience loved me! Then I tried to find my mother in the audience. I looked and I looked but I couldn’t find her anywhere!
I honestly have no idea how long I was out there but eventually MaryKat, a girl in my brother’s class, walked out to come and get me. “But I can’t find my mummy!” I distinctly recall the audience laughing at me in a “that child is so cute but I’m glad she’s not mine” kind of way. My mother finally figured out what was going on and waved her arms so I could see her.
Happy to be able to fulfill my duties properly, I waved back, took MaryKat’s hand and walked backstage knowing that I was the best model in the whole world.
So ends the tale of Typ0’s first and last modeling adventure. Just think -- if my mother had been in the front of the audience that evening I might have been the next Linda Evangelista instead of a world traveling blogger.
Don’t forget to return tomorrow for the even sadder and more shameful tale of how I haven’t worked for all three of Toronto’s major daily newspapers.
The scoop about my brief foray into the modeling world happened when I was six. My elementary school was trying to encourage parents to purchase non-mandatory school uniforms for their children. Since no one looks good in red, green, and brown plaid, the pinafores and kilts weren’t exactly flying off the shelves.
In an effort to boost sales, the store that sold these fabulous outfits decided to host a fashion show at the local church. I’m not exactly certain why my incredibly adorable self was selected to walk down the runway, but when the big night finally arrived I was one of many children lining up to receive a brief lesson in how to strut the catwalk like a professional.
This is exactly what I remember being told: Walk to the end of the stage, stop, turn slowly, pose, and smile. Then, look for your mummy or daddy out in the audience, smile, and turn around and walk back. In my defense, what happened next was really the fault of the person who gave me those instructions.When my turn arrived, I smiled and walked to the center of the stage. I made my way to the end of the catwalk, turned, and smiled. I was on fire and the audience loved me! Then I tried to find my mother in the audience. I looked and I looked but I couldn’t find her anywhere!
I honestly have no idea how long I was out there but eventually MaryKat, a girl in my brother’s class, walked out to come and get me. “But I can’t find my mummy!” I distinctly recall the audience laughing at me in a “that child is so cute but I’m glad she’s not mine” kind of way. My mother finally figured out what was going on and waved her arms so I could see her.Happy to be able to fulfill my duties properly, I waved back, took MaryKat’s hand and walked backstage knowing that I was the best model in the whole world.
So ends the tale of Typ0’s first and last modeling adventure. Just think -- if my mother had been in the front of the audience that evening I might have been the next Linda Evangelista instead of a world traveling blogger.
Don’t forget to return tomorrow for the even sadder and more shameful tale of how I haven’t worked for all three of Toronto’s major daily newspapers.
19 comments:
I must say, you looked so trendy in your plaid skirt and mustard shirt. ;) You were obviously too sexy for your catwalk.
Hahaha! Such dishy clothes! Nice~! :)
Well, I for once am very happy that you became a world traveling blogger, or I would have never heard this amusing and wonderful story!;) Ha, I knew number 1 was right.;)))
Does this mean that your number 3 statement was false?;)
Hilarious! And that means I guessed correctly which statement was a lie...
I bet you looked a doll in all that colour and plaid! ;-)
I think it was the natty yellow bows on your braids/plaits that did it!
merthyrmum
I was in a beauty pageant once, back when I was like 5 or 6. I am SO glad my parents didn't become stage parents.
OMG, I remember having to wear almost the same uniform and hated it. Can't wait for tomorrow's post.
I'm glad that you weren't the next Linda Evangelista! I would much rather have the world traveling blogger friend... It's much more fun to live vicariously through you!
LOL - ohh who wouldn't want to hear those outfits. They are so trendy.
oops- typo - I meant wear not hear
Ok, I was wrong. But I´m sure you looked adorable!
Can´t wait for tomorrow´s explanation of the "lie"... :)
It obviously didn't work out due to the aversion to photography :-)
The interview has a typo. It should have said like. Roald Dahl, Madeline L' Engle and Bruce Coville are my favorite writers!
Oh so cute. i can picture you standing out there looking for your mum.
Hah, I got it right - I am sooo good :)!
Cute story and those uniforms are, uhm, very, uhm, pretty indeed ;)!
Would you call that shade of mustard "spicy" or "dijon?" ;)
Oh that is so cute! I would have been proud if you were my daughter :)
Hated.hated.hated having to wear uniforms........
Until my kids were in school, then as a parent I loved them!!!!
Fun story! While we lived in Virginia for several years, I read an article in the newspaper saying that parents in another county were considering school uniforms to get rid of their kids'obsessing about the "right" clothes. I suggested to my daughter that maybe I should start a campaign for uniforms in our school district, expecting her to go ballistic at the very idea. Instead, she heaved a heavy, heavy sigh. "Oh, Mom, that would be so much easier!" she said. I was stunned. Apparently getting dressed was a heavy burden! Poor kid!
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