So when modeling is slow catering takes over, I think any struggling model or model with slow work can relate. Tonight I worked an event at Bloomingdales where we served a few dishes, tastings rather with samples of various wines. There was a crew of 5 with one captain and each of the non captains were assigned 2 tables.
The evening was slowly paced and very manageable. At the conclusion of the sampling each guest was presented with a gift bag. The head chef who was answering questions with the owner of the wine company who provided the wine for sampling had provided $50 gift cards to his restaurant. Each guest received their bag and there was a plethora of surplus so we were given the OK to take a bag for ourselves.
Once we had cleaned up the entire area and put everything in its designated place and departed the desolate store. Three of us posted up outside and an additional two came out. A few lit their cigarettes and I waited patiently as the idea of using our gift cards to purchase drinks was presented. It was brilliant.
A classy, dimly lit, italian establishment cautiously allowed us entrance. We walked in and my two fellow employees allowed me to break the ice and see if the bartender would allow the gift card to permit us a few beverages. We were granted the privilege and proceeded to order the most expensive cocktails we could look up on the menu. Our fellow on the right had to depart due to an obligation to report to the lower east side for a DJ gig and had his cocktail and left us with a $10 bill for our tip. Myself and the other "partner" had two cocktails and conversed for about an hour.
Apparently I was working with a private military weapons trainer who learned his knife fighting skills in taiwan and turned that into a career training military personnel here in the states. He was also from the south where his ex navy seal father showed him a thing or two on weapons. We chatted mainly on fitness and I picked up some great new perspective to achieving my fitness goal. Balance Protein, Carbs, and good fats. Also when attempting to lose fat deduct your age from 220 and that is where you will burn the most fat. He said its not easy but even doing it for 10-15 seconds will get your body zapped in the right direction. Lastly, I ask him how to get the highly desired V. He said to hang from a pull up bar, lift your legs parallel to the ground, and do your pull ups.
I start my new training tomorrow before I attempt my most unique acting feat yet, more to come.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Brutal
I haven't seen the inside of the lincoln center mercedes benz fashion week tents yet. I consider this season an absolute failure. The number of castings I went to was between 15 and 25. My days before this week were busy and anxiety stricken. Now I know I was not selected so a new wave of anxious worries drifts into place.
I walked in one show and had a bad day so I missed my second booked show. The third show I was confirmed for, I called the day before the show to confirm timing and they said I was too euro/skinny/high fashion AKA they fucked up at the casting and when the designer saw me at his fitting he said no. These weeks have passed and I feel that I've given my heart to a goal which in the present has gotten me no where. Feelings of failure, disappointment, and fatigue have set in.
I have realized the significance of energies and patterns. A few days ago I was hustled into a -$20 bank balance. I was walking past two guys early in the morning. They went to both of my sides rather than pairing up while passing me. As they passed, the man to my right hit my shoulder and a conflict was the outcome to this impact.
As we made contact he dropped the bag that was in his hand. I looked back merely because I heard a loud noise: my head phones were on at full volume so you can tell I was unable to hear noises beyond the headphones. The man runs up to me and says "Yo you broke my bottle of whiskey". I told him that I was sorry but he bumped into me and dropped his shit.
I could smell the booze on his breath and he was swaying back and forth so I knew he was already drunk and there was no chance to reason with him. I took out my wallet and showed him that I only had two dollars and said that I was broke. He went on some rant how he was not playing games and that if I didn't pay him wed settle this here. He put his hands up and got in my face like someone getting ready to fight and his partner was slowly walking towards me.
First thing I thought was that I could definitely smash him in the face and out run him. But then I thought responsibly and said to myself no. This is a block from where I live and I cannot start a war. I bit the bullet and with his recommendation/command we went to the atm and I withdrew $20. It was a really shitty situation.
With my lack of shows and this bad energy around me I'm worried that these are signs. Perhaps it is a test to see if I will quit. The truth is always out of sight it seems. To make things worse I now have a cold and haven't been able to sleep which prevents me from looking presentable. What to do? What to do?!
Carry on...tomorrow is another day.
I walked in one show and had a bad day so I missed my second booked show. The third show I was confirmed for, I called the day before the show to confirm timing and they said I was too euro/skinny/high fashion AKA they fucked up at the casting and when the designer saw me at his fitting he said no. These weeks have passed and I feel that I've given my heart to a goal which in the present has gotten me no where. Feelings of failure, disappointment, and fatigue have set in.
I have realized the significance of energies and patterns. A few days ago I was hustled into a -$20 bank balance. I was walking past two guys early in the morning. They went to both of my sides rather than pairing up while passing me. As they passed, the man to my right hit my shoulder and a conflict was the outcome to this impact.
As we made contact he dropped the bag that was in his hand. I looked back merely because I heard a loud noise: my head phones were on at full volume so you can tell I was unable to hear noises beyond the headphones. The man runs up to me and says "Yo you broke my bottle of whiskey". I told him that I was sorry but he bumped into me and dropped his shit.
I could smell the booze on his breath and he was swaying back and forth so I knew he was already drunk and there was no chance to reason with him. I took out my wallet and showed him that I only had two dollars and said that I was broke. He went on some rant how he was not playing games and that if I didn't pay him wed settle this here. He put his hands up and got in my face like someone getting ready to fight and his partner was slowly walking towards me.
First thing I thought was that I could definitely smash him in the face and out run him. But then I thought responsibly and said to myself no. This is a block from where I live and I cannot start a war. I bit the bullet and with his recommendation/command we went to the atm and I withdrew $20. It was a really shitty situation.
With my lack of shows and this bad energy around me I'm worried that these are signs. Perhaps it is a test to see if I will quit. The truth is always out of sight it seems. To make things worse I now have a cold and haven't been able to sleep which prevents me from looking presentable. What to do? What to do?!
Carry on...tomorrow is another day.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
September 6th
The Monday before fashion week and I've only got one casting, compliments of the agency. Something is really fucked up with that. I woke up late and had a leisurely morning. The casting was from 10 am to 4 pm where I could arrive anytime in between and I got there at about 2pm. After waiting 45 minutes and battling the urge to urinate all over my fellow models due to the large water and shot of vodka I had consumed on the train ride to the casting I was finally seen.
As I've said before, when the casting directors don't like what they see the models get an automatic "Thank you". Perhaps I've been fortunate enough to have been spared the embarrassment of being laughed at or cruelly turned down but today I saw Michael Bastian. When I entered the doorway I could see some models walk with clothes and some in underwear...I quickly learned that if you were walking in underwear then the designer and casting team approved your clothed walk and wanted to see more.
I entered the studio and warmly shook all the hands that I could as I introduced myself. They reviewed my book and asked me to walk. I did my walk and when I returned the designer had a look on his face with raised eye brows which I could not interpret. He asked me to pull my hair back and said to his colleagues something in regards to my look having army or military qualities. I was then asked to strip down to my underwear and walk. I did as I was told and they continued the selection process where they photographed me a few times and allowed me to go.
I left feeling a bit content and somewhat cocky. Shit, I probably won't get the show but I felt as if through the designers reaction I already acquired the confidence one would get after walking such a notorious show. Perhaps this is the answer...Do work and see the results and you will be happy. Perhaps happiness is easy to come upon for others and challenging as fuck for myself. It is what it is and so I move on.
The pretty girl that I call my own texted me the information of a casting that she had gone to earlier where both male and female models were present. I headed to the location after my first casting of the day. My routine is to go to any casting with my BOSS book as well as with my neutral black book to house my modeling photos. Though boss had not sent me to this casting, I decided to use the book in hopes that the name could be used to my advantage.
I used a photo that was not necessary for my book and wrote all the relevant information that a casting director would need on the back. When I arrived I signed in and awaited my name to be called. I was called and the casting crew looked at my book and kept staring at me. They took my makeshift comp card and said thank you. THE DEADLY "THANK YOU" was burdened upon my ears though they confirmed that it was ok for them to take my comp card. A truly confusing and hard to interpret response to viewing me as their model. So I thanked them kindly and departed from the tension filled room.
About a week or two ago I had shot with the bamboo t shirt designer and had not signed a model release. He had emailed me requesting that I join him at a bbq to sign the model release and consume a burger, hot dog, or alcoholic beverage. Since I was not obligated to any significant events in my schedule I opted to take him up on the offer and traveled north to West 105th Street.
We met in the streets and he was with one of his gay friends. We walked to the townhouse where the barbecue was being hosted at and entered the residence. In the back there was a small area outside where the lesbian host had tables and chairs along with a barbecue. The snacks consisted of hummus and crackers, sun chips, and garlic bagel chips with some sort of garlic and spinach dip-WOW.
I thought that shit was good enough and then we were treated with burgers, hot dogs, AND grilled veggies. This was a true delight; lounging in the upper west side, BBQing, and drinking with complete strangers. I love modeling in the sense that I am always subjected to unpredictable extravagant ventures such as this. The funny thing is that I was summoned to this event merely to sign a model release and on exchange I was wined and dined. Lovely.
As I've said before, when the casting directors don't like what they see the models get an automatic "Thank you". Perhaps I've been fortunate enough to have been spared the embarrassment of being laughed at or cruelly turned down but today I saw Michael Bastian. When I entered the doorway I could see some models walk with clothes and some in underwear...I quickly learned that if you were walking in underwear then the designer and casting team approved your clothed walk and wanted to see more.
I entered the studio and warmly shook all the hands that I could as I introduced myself. They reviewed my book and asked me to walk. I did my walk and when I returned the designer had a look on his face with raised eye brows which I could not interpret. He asked me to pull my hair back and said to his colleagues something in regards to my look having army or military qualities. I was then asked to strip down to my underwear and walk. I did as I was told and they continued the selection process where they photographed me a few times and allowed me to go.
I left feeling a bit content and somewhat cocky. Shit, I probably won't get the show but I felt as if through the designers reaction I already acquired the confidence one would get after walking such a notorious show. Perhaps this is the answer...Do work and see the results and you will be happy. Perhaps happiness is easy to come upon for others and challenging as fuck for myself. It is what it is and so I move on.
The pretty girl that I call my own texted me the information of a casting that she had gone to earlier where both male and female models were present. I headed to the location after my first casting of the day. My routine is to go to any casting with my BOSS book as well as with my neutral black book to house my modeling photos. Though boss had not sent me to this casting, I decided to use the book in hopes that the name could be used to my advantage.
I used a photo that was not necessary for my book and wrote all the relevant information that a casting director would need on the back. When I arrived I signed in and awaited my name to be called. I was called and the casting crew looked at my book and kept staring at me. They took my makeshift comp card and said thank you. THE DEADLY "THANK YOU" was burdened upon my ears though they confirmed that it was ok for them to take my comp card. A truly confusing and hard to interpret response to viewing me as their model. So I thanked them kindly and departed from the tension filled room.
About a week or two ago I had shot with the bamboo t shirt designer and had not signed a model release. He had emailed me requesting that I join him at a bbq to sign the model release and consume a burger, hot dog, or alcoholic beverage. Since I was not obligated to any significant events in my schedule I opted to take him up on the offer and traveled north to West 105th Street.
We met in the streets and he was with one of his gay friends. We walked to the townhouse where the barbecue was being hosted at and entered the residence. In the back there was a small area outside where the lesbian host had tables and chairs along with a barbecue. The snacks consisted of hummus and crackers, sun chips, and garlic bagel chips with some sort of garlic and spinach dip-WOW.
I thought that shit was good enough and then we were treated with burgers, hot dogs, AND grilled veggies. This was a true delight; lounging in the upper west side, BBQing, and drinking with complete strangers. I love modeling in the sense that I am always subjected to unpredictable extravagant ventures such as this. The funny thing is that I was summoned to this event merely to sign a model release and on exchange I was wined and dined. Lovely.
FW Castings
Castings for fashion week shows have been sporadically happening over the past few days. Before this week I had thought that it was difficult to plan work around my few castings but now I see how that was merely a watered down preview for fashion week. I've had to cancel numerous paid jobs for "big" castings and its a challenge because I've got to survive in the moment through catering and promotional work but the more shows I do, I am in a better position for success in the long run. Baa Hum Bug.
The castings have been going well so far minus waiting in the long lines to be seen. I try to study the other guys when they walk and see who the casting persons are sending away before even being allowed to walk due to their look so I can figure out what the designer wants before I strut my stuff. I've yet to be turned down before walking and have received positive feedback from the casting directors though no definite bookings as of now but one and it isn't even a menswear show.
I continue to struggle with accepting my agency. There were numerous designers that I was not sent the casting info for and the agency's reasoning, my book is not strong enough. I am still a newbie to the NY scene, yes but with the castings having hundreds of models why can't they just add me to the mix in hopes of catching someone's attention?! Perhaps there's is much to learn, perhaps I need a new agency?
My main struggle is with patience and determining the point when impatience is logical. How long do I allow my agency to hold onto me while I am discontent with their efforts? How long do I give modeling before I determine whether or not it is destined to be? How long before I get so tired of NY I simply pick up my belongings and move on?
I was walking in the lower east side this morning and acknowledged that the newness of the city which instigated awe and the feeling of being content in this city has worn off. I've acquired my geographical fix and now that I've adapted am stuck to face my personal issues of what will bring me happiness. I saw someone driving a younger VW Golf and it reminded me of my care free days of when I had my own 2002 GTI.
I could party well after the sun had risen, blow off work to chill all day, and travel where ever I had desired with whomever I chose and yet always thought of what life would be like in tibet, costa rica, or the military. I had achieved a scenario where money was no worry and I had the people I thought I had wanted around me present and yet always sought more. Is that my American Culture and I'm just being greedy or is it my human nature to bypass the fake or materialistic amenities of life and search for depth and true happiness?
No matter where the solution to my worries may lay, I must push on and endure the constant temptation to fuck it all. I am dabbling with a field in modeling I never would have fathomed being part of and am constantly venturing into unknown territory. When I was younger I could turn to others for guidance or advice and now I feel as if I must be the one to answer the questions even when my optimism fades and negativity takes hold. The key to my success is being able to acknowledge this, remove my thoughts from the present moment, and hit a refresh button. Perhaps that is what this so called blog is for.
The castings have been going well so far minus waiting in the long lines to be seen. I try to study the other guys when they walk and see who the casting persons are sending away before even being allowed to walk due to their look so I can figure out what the designer wants before I strut my stuff. I've yet to be turned down before walking and have received positive feedback from the casting directors though no definite bookings as of now but one and it isn't even a menswear show.
I continue to struggle with accepting my agency. There were numerous designers that I was not sent the casting info for and the agency's reasoning, my book is not strong enough. I am still a newbie to the NY scene, yes but with the castings having hundreds of models why can't they just add me to the mix in hopes of catching someone's attention?! Perhaps there's is much to learn, perhaps I need a new agency?
My main struggle is with patience and determining the point when impatience is logical. How long do I allow my agency to hold onto me while I am discontent with their efforts? How long do I give modeling before I determine whether or not it is destined to be? How long before I get so tired of NY I simply pick up my belongings and move on?
I was walking in the lower east side this morning and acknowledged that the newness of the city which instigated awe and the feeling of being content in this city has worn off. I've acquired my geographical fix and now that I've adapted am stuck to face my personal issues of what will bring me happiness. I saw someone driving a younger VW Golf and it reminded me of my care free days of when I had my own 2002 GTI.
I could party well after the sun had risen, blow off work to chill all day, and travel where ever I had desired with whomever I chose and yet always thought of what life would be like in tibet, costa rica, or the military. I had achieved a scenario where money was no worry and I had the people I thought I had wanted around me present and yet always sought more. Is that my American Culture and I'm just being greedy or is it my human nature to bypass the fake or materialistic amenities of life and search for depth and true happiness?
No matter where the solution to my worries may lay, I must push on and endure the constant temptation to fuck it all. I am dabbling with a field in modeling I never would have fathomed being part of and am constantly venturing into unknown territory. When I was younger I could turn to others for guidance or advice and now I feel as if I must be the one to answer the questions even when my optimism fades and negativity takes hold. The key to my success is being able to acknowledge this, remove my thoughts from the present moment, and hit a refresh button. Perhaps that is what this so called blog is for.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
August 28th
I go to the gym everyday and spend hours of hard work for a goal of which I cannot say my heart is 100% set on. Laziness is something that I am guilty of daily though not in the physical sense but in the psychological sense. I don't know what makes me happy and yet what effort do I put forth to contemplate what will make me happy, the answer is not clear. I wish I knew. All I can say is that everyday I work to get closer to my goal I don't feel any better, what is the point to work so hard just to one day die? What happens when you die, does the aftermath of death make all the struggles in life worth the wait or do you realize how important the little things you had and enjoyed were and the point of which life concludes you become nothing. How can one say that they truly are something? You don't know...tell me anything that is a "truth" and explain to me how you or whomever you believe to be so knowledgeable has such a supremacy in the universe that they are correct...even a simple equation such as one plus one. Tell me that that is a definite. There are no definites besides the one absolute in life that one day (or night) your body will stop working for whatever reason and the greatest questions of my life will be answered. What happens after death? I do not fear death though I do fear that when the time comes, I may look back and regret...Alas I carry on in hopes that one day I will grasp happiness and live a fulfilling life. So I strive to fill my schedule to partake in the process of elimination (in regards to what doesn't make me smile or feel as if I am happy) and to be productive.
I woke up just early enough to have my oatmeal, pack my clothes for the day, and take the train (ALL LOCAL STOPS ON WEEKENDS) all in perfect timing to walk into my gym 2 minutes past opening. I did my work out, showered, shaved and took the train to Union Square where I walked two avenues west to catch the F train which took 20 minutes to arrive and then got off at my old residence where the hostel used to be located. I met a man there to try on three shirts he made for a photo shoot tomorrow...they were made from bamboo, softer than egyptian cotton. He was satisfied with the fit and told me of the details for our shoot.
Being near the old hostel location definitely bums me out. I get the feeling of when I was younger and would fall in love so quickly and then in the same time I had fallen for a girl the same time I would have a broken heart. My time at the hostel was brief but it had such an impact on me; the people I met, my experiences in the hostel, and my experiences in the city while living in the hostel. I sincerely wish the place were still running and Collin were my boss and Hanna was still the owner and I still had my bed in the corner (next to Collin) in the back. It was simple, somewhat of a small community, and surreal. "If its too good to be true, it usually is"...NYC why do you fuck with my so badly?! I cherish those times and my interactions with the people I had there...when I think more deeply, I cherish the emotion I felt when I was there. Perhaps it was because I was so new to NYC or perhaps it truly was a magical place, it felt like a whole new world-must be a combination.
I was unable to linger as I had to head to Brooklyn to pose nude for an art class. I arrived to my artists studio, filled my water bottle, and undressed myself. Today was 3 hours of holding a pose for 20 minutes and then breaking for 4 minutes and continuing this pattern until 3 hours had found its way past our start. This session differed from the last as before I was changing my pose very often but this time was forced to hold the same pose so as the timer reached our first 20 minute marker, the head artist used tape to mark my hands and feet so I could get back into place. While I was seated, there was a twist in my back and to be sitting in a turning position for virtually 3 hours is not easy.
I tried to determine whether this was easier work than catering or moving. You do have quite a bit of time just to think, shame how the struggle to stay in pose hinders my ability to fathom methods towards happiness. The aforementioned lines of work require physical stamina but this motionless 3 hours of employment requires stamina of the psyche.
Once you get over the fact that you're naked in front of a bunch of strangers you acknowledge the difficulty of staying still and in pose for basically 3 hours. I try to see who is staring at me, my body, or my cock...peek at their drawing papers as their heads drop to add the next line of my recreation on paper...and attempt to profile the people. There is no other point for the profiling other than to kill time. 3 hours came and went and I was off to fifth avenue for a night of catering at a wedding.
Earlier in the week I had an "open call" for a catering company based in the upper west side. I lied at the group interview and said that I had heard about the gathering last minute which is why I came with no resume nor head shot when in reality I knew that I did not need them. If an employer is truly seeking staff for a job which requires no true skill then they will hire me. The interviewer asked everyone what they do and what their experience in the service field involved and when she got to me she wrote all my info down on the back of the "actor" next to mes resume-brutal. Needless to say, later that day I got a call from the woman saying "so we're skipping the next step of the interview process and we'd like to see if you are available to work Saturday night". Of course the offer was accepted and I was officially hired by yet another caterer.
This event was for some spoiled bitch who was marrying some unfortunate wall street looking type. I was fortunate enough to arrive after the entire place was set up so all that I was required to do was serve and assist with the break down. The location was pretty nice, right on fifth avenue and on the 12th floor (roof top). The bride freaked out because her husband saw her while he was headed to the roof and I just wanted to slap her in the face and tell her that she didn't need to worry about that nonsense of not being able to see this and that as that will cause bad luck because she was already a bitch and would obviously push him to alcoholism if his job didn't first. She was pretty tame the rest of the night, the guests at my assigned table however were not.
Before I could pour the first glass of wine they spilled a glass of water so obviously with the wine present there was not an inch on my table to be unmoistened. I was beyond pleasant and helpful until I went to take the plate from a woman finished with her meal and she grabbed my wrist and barked at me telling me that I don't take a plate until everyone is finished. Bitch is lucky she didn't lose her dentures and please if your tits sag to your belly button don't wear a fuckin low cut dress.
The party faded out around midnight and with breakdown we were out by 12:45am. With trains running local I was unable to make it home any sooner than 2am. The new employer was OK. They made sure we were fed and taken care of though lacked direction in the busy times. I'll give them another chance. It was certainly a long day.
I woke up just early enough to have my oatmeal, pack my clothes for the day, and take the train (ALL LOCAL STOPS ON WEEKENDS) all in perfect timing to walk into my gym 2 minutes past opening. I did my work out, showered, shaved and took the train to Union Square where I walked two avenues west to catch the F train which took 20 minutes to arrive and then got off at my old residence where the hostel used to be located. I met a man there to try on three shirts he made for a photo shoot tomorrow...they were made from bamboo, softer than egyptian cotton. He was satisfied with the fit and told me of the details for our shoot.
Being near the old hostel location definitely bums me out. I get the feeling of when I was younger and would fall in love so quickly and then in the same time I had fallen for a girl the same time I would have a broken heart. My time at the hostel was brief but it had such an impact on me; the people I met, my experiences in the hostel, and my experiences in the city while living in the hostel. I sincerely wish the place were still running and Collin were my boss and Hanna was still the owner and I still had my bed in the corner (next to Collin) in the back. It was simple, somewhat of a small community, and surreal. "If its too good to be true, it usually is"...NYC why do you fuck with my so badly?! I cherish those times and my interactions with the people I had there...when I think more deeply, I cherish the emotion I felt when I was there. Perhaps it was because I was so new to NYC or perhaps it truly was a magical place, it felt like a whole new world-must be a combination.
I was unable to linger as I had to head to Brooklyn to pose nude for an art class. I arrived to my artists studio, filled my water bottle, and undressed myself. Today was 3 hours of holding a pose for 20 minutes and then breaking for 4 minutes and continuing this pattern until 3 hours had found its way past our start. This session differed from the last as before I was changing my pose very often but this time was forced to hold the same pose so as the timer reached our first 20 minute marker, the head artist used tape to mark my hands and feet so I could get back into place. While I was seated, there was a twist in my back and to be sitting in a turning position for virtually 3 hours is not easy.
I tried to determine whether this was easier work than catering or moving. You do have quite a bit of time just to think, shame how the struggle to stay in pose hinders my ability to fathom methods towards happiness. The aforementioned lines of work require physical stamina but this motionless 3 hours of employment requires stamina of the psyche.
Once you get over the fact that you're naked in front of a bunch of strangers you acknowledge the difficulty of staying still and in pose for basically 3 hours. I try to see who is staring at me, my body, or my cock...peek at their drawing papers as their heads drop to add the next line of my recreation on paper...and attempt to profile the people. There is no other point for the profiling other than to kill time. 3 hours came and went and I was off to fifth avenue for a night of catering at a wedding.
Earlier in the week I had an "open call" for a catering company based in the upper west side. I lied at the group interview and said that I had heard about the gathering last minute which is why I came with no resume nor head shot when in reality I knew that I did not need them. If an employer is truly seeking staff for a job which requires no true skill then they will hire me. The interviewer asked everyone what they do and what their experience in the service field involved and when she got to me she wrote all my info down on the back of the "actor" next to mes resume-brutal. Needless to say, later that day I got a call from the woman saying "so we're skipping the next step of the interview process and we'd like to see if you are available to work Saturday night". Of course the offer was accepted and I was officially hired by yet another caterer.
This event was for some spoiled bitch who was marrying some unfortunate wall street looking type. I was fortunate enough to arrive after the entire place was set up so all that I was required to do was serve and assist with the break down. The location was pretty nice, right on fifth avenue and on the 12th floor (roof top). The bride freaked out because her husband saw her while he was headed to the roof and I just wanted to slap her in the face and tell her that she didn't need to worry about that nonsense of not being able to see this and that as that will cause bad luck because she was already a bitch and would obviously push him to alcoholism if his job didn't first. She was pretty tame the rest of the night, the guests at my assigned table however were not.
Before I could pour the first glass of wine they spilled a glass of water so obviously with the wine present there was not an inch on my table to be unmoistened. I was beyond pleasant and helpful until I went to take the plate from a woman finished with her meal and she grabbed my wrist and barked at me telling me that I don't take a plate until everyone is finished. Bitch is lucky she didn't lose her dentures and please if your tits sag to your belly button don't wear a fuckin low cut dress.
The party faded out around midnight and with breakdown we were out by 12:45am. With trains running local I was unable to make it home any sooner than 2am. The new employer was OK. They made sure we were fed and taken care of though lacked direction in the busy times. I'll give them another chance. It was certainly a long day.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Paul the photographer
Last night I went to a casting for a pre fashion week show. I find it humorous when I go to castings and have no idea what they are for. The amount of emails I send and postings of potential castings I experience on the daily is absurd and when I receive an invite or confirmation to attend a casting I usually just add it to my schedule sometimes without a proper label. This sometimes puts me in awkward situations when I am forced to act as if I know all about and am a fan of a designers work, BAD MODEL-i should be spanked! None the less I got selected for the show and am awaiting details.
After the casting I walked up a few streets to a Starbucks where I met a photographer I had just found through craigslist, Paul was his name. His posting stated that he was moving to China in a few weeks and was seeking models to get some last additions to his portfolio, something like that...I'll be honest I don't remember the post! I got to the coffee shop 10 minutes early (GOOD MODEL-you can still spank me if you like) and gave Paul a call. I told him that I was there and he replied "oh I'm just trying to find a seat". I looked around and saw no one with a phone to their ear so I told him that I did not see him and he replied with a humor that I can appreciate, "I'm here, I'm everywhere, I'm everything you see...no just kidding, I'm the little black guy over near the bar waiting for my drink". QUALITY.
We made our introductions and he explained to me what he does and why he is relocating to China. When he was younger he was with a surveillance squad in the special forces and actually photographed for them. He was being sent on a mission to photograph the sweat shops and put an end to the misery once and for all so that we would no longer be forced to read "MADE IN CHINA" and feel guilty about little Lo Mein spending 100 hours a week in a hut made out of chop sticks for his ten cent pay check. No wait, he was being sent there to photograph for some fashion company...whatever, its the same fuckin thing!
Paul asked the usual questions about my journey through modeling and then put a smile on my face by telling me, "well you've got the look". He then asked if I had some time to shoot and even though I had a fitting to attend I told him that I was all his. Something about him gave me the vibe that I should jump on this unexpected opportunity for a mini test. We walked north and stopped first in front of a diner with red lighting. There were mad people walking around us on the sidewalk but he was down on the ground rolling around so in depth to his mission of capturing the angle that he could care less of the pedestrians. This was a clear sign of how seriously he loved his craft and I was ready to commit to him until he was satisfied with our shoot. We continued north.
He was seeking the correct lighting and we found a spot with a very bright street lamp so we stopped, took a few shots in the street, and moved to the sidewalk. As we began to shoot the window rolled down to the drivers door of a limo parked on the street. Paul walked over and they started chatting then signaled me over and told me to get in. Shocked I looked at him and he said, "this how we do it".
I got into the limo and he told me to act as if I were a super model and was looking out at the paparazzi like what the fuck are you shooting me for. I posed a bit then he shot me stepping out of the ride and called it a shot. We thanked the driver and continued heading north. After a few shots on the stairs of the public library we walked towards Bryant park. While I was leaning on the concrete barrier to the park my new found photographer said "we need something else!" So he jumped in front of a women and asked if he could borrow her scarf.
She complied and I shot a few with the accessory round my neck and we called it a night. His actions in that short photo shoot made it clear that he was someone to work with. He said he will try to find a classic car for me to shoot with in a nice suit, something resembling that of a GUCCI ad. We Shall See.
After the casting I walked up a few streets to a Starbucks where I met a photographer I had just found through craigslist, Paul was his name. His posting stated that he was moving to China in a few weeks and was seeking models to get some last additions to his portfolio, something like that...I'll be honest I don't remember the post! I got to the coffee shop 10 minutes early (GOOD MODEL-you can still spank me if you like) and gave Paul a call. I told him that I was there and he replied "oh I'm just trying to find a seat". I looked around and saw no one with a phone to their ear so I told him that I did not see him and he replied with a humor that I can appreciate, "I'm here, I'm everywhere, I'm everything you see...no just kidding, I'm the little black guy over near the bar waiting for my drink". QUALITY.
We made our introductions and he explained to me what he does and why he is relocating to China. When he was younger he was with a surveillance squad in the special forces and actually photographed for them. He was being sent on a mission to photograph the sweat shops and put an end to the misery once and for all so that we would no longer be forced to read "MADE IN CHINA" and feel guilty about little Lo Mein spending 100 hours a week in a hut made out of chop sticks for his ten cent pay check. No wait, he was being sent there to photograph for some fashion company...whatever, its the same fuckin thing!
Paul asked the usual questions about my journey through modeling and then put a smile on my face by telling me, "well you've got the look". He then asked if I had some time to shoot and even though I had a fitting to attend I told him that I was all his. Something about him gave me the vibe that I should jump on this unexpected opportunity for a mini test. We walked north and stopped first in front of a diner with red lighting. There were mad people walking around us on the sidewalk but he was down on the ground rolling around so in depth to his mission of capturing the angle that he could care less of the pedestrians. This was a clear sign of how seriously he loved his craft and I was ready to commit to him until he was satisfied with our shoot. We continued north.
He was seeking the correct lighting and we found a spot with a very bright street lamp so we stopped, took a few shots in the street, and moved to the sidewalk. As we began to shoot the window rolled down to the drivers door of a limo parked on the street. Paul walked over and they started chatting then signaled me over and told me to get in. Shocked I looked at him and he said, "this how we do it".
I got into the limo and he told me to act as if I were a super model and was looking out at the paparazzi like what the fuck are you shooting me for. I posed a bit then he shot me stepping out of the ride and called it a shot. We thanked the driver and continued heading north. After a few shots on the stairs of the public library we walked towards Bryant park. While I was leaning on the concrete barrier to the park my new found photographer said "we need something else!" So he jumped in front of a women and asked if he could borrow her scarf.
She complied and I shot a few with the accessory round my neck and we called it a night. His actions in that short photo shoot made it clear that he was someone to work with. He said he will try to find a classic car for me to shoot with in a nice suit, something resembling that of a GUCCI ad. We Shall See.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
another day
"Survival of the fittest" certainly relates to success in modeling, fittest not solely related to fitness. I've learned that every opportunity you encounter must be used to its best ability and you should leave no ounce of opportunity wasted. Additionally the ability to create opportunity is absolutely mandatory. Google is an amazing resource so one way I create opportunities is to go fishing through the web for various fashion industry pupils, introduce myself and interest in them/their work by email, and hope that I get a response. It's a strategy game really and if you want to win you must be able to think outside of the box.
Last week I scanned the official fashion week website for designers participating this season and last season. Compared the two seasons and compiled a list of designers from last season whom were not presenting this season and emailed all the designers as well as various other googleable menswear designers (showing and not showing this season). Another thing I've learned is that no one wants to be grouped with others, they want to feel special and unique. Alas I typed individual emails to them all...astonishingly I received an email from a casting director while I was still on the bike(I do all my emailing while on the stationary bike at my gym-THATS RIGHT I LOVE BLACKBERRY).
A casting director for a designer (find out designer if I actually book the show) emailed me and said that he received an email from the designers studio and that he'd like to meet. Flabbergasted I immediately replied and ended up meeting with him that afternoon. His demeanor was nonchalant when he began to attempt to hear my story and why I wanted to be a model. Here is a great example of what I had previously said about people wanting to feel special. If I had replied with bullshit answers and generic responses he would have dismissed the notion that he may cast me and so I replied with sincerity.
I told him that modeling was never a dream nor a contemplation in my youth. The reason it all started was because of craigslist where I would find postings from photographers or artists willing to pay to work with my look to enhance their book. Through that I found model mayhem and from there events similar to this and with my networking the path towards modeling became evident and intriguing.
I also told him of my loyal readership to the publication, GQ and how even as a youth I would acquire every months issue. My interest in fashion developed into a passion as the years of GQ stimulated my tastes for classy, stylish, and unique menswear. Of course I would have no sense of where to begin with styling if it were not for my one of a kind grandmother whom constantly supplied me with clothing through the holidays and even took me out to select my own outfits (usually for back to school) throughout my upbringing. The idea of being a model in GQ was quite enticing and thus with so many motivational factors I took a step into the first stage of the modeling challenge and moved to New York City.
He reviewed my book and said he couldn't guarantee me anything but the fact that the designer sent him my info rather than the reverse it was a good sign and that he'd be in touch. He also referred me to go see a booker at a smaller agency which I've done and am currently waiting to hear back from. So from googling a designer and sending a note of interest I got a good chance at walking in a fashion week runway show and met with a new agency which I had not been seen by yet-point and case.
Last week I scanned the official fashion week website for designers participating this season and last season. Compared the two seasons and compiled a list of designers from last season whom were not presenting this season and emailed all the designers as well as various other googleable menswear designers (showing and not showing this season). Another thing I've learned is that no one wants to be grouped with others, they want to feel special and unique. Alas I typed individual emails to them all...astonishingly I received an email from a casting director while I was still on the bike(I do all my emailing while on the stationary bike at my gym-THATS RIGHT I LOVE BLACKBERRY).
A casting director for a designer (find out designer if I actually book the show) emailed me and said that he received an email from the designers studio and that he'd like to meet. Flabbergasted I immediately replied and ended up meeting with him that afternoon. His demeanor was nonchalant when he began to attempt to hear my story and why I wanted to be a model. Here is a great example of what I had previously said about people wanting to feel special. If I had replied with bullshit answers and generic responses he would have dismissed the notion that he may cast me and so I replied with sincerity.
I told him that modeling was never a dream nor a contemplation in my youth. The reason it all started was because of craigslist where I would find postings from photographers or artists willing to pay to work with my look to enhance their book. Through that I found model mayhem and from there events similar to this and with my networking the path towards modeling became evident and intriguing.
I also told him of my loyal readership to the publication, GQ and how even as a youth I would acquire every months issue. My interest in fashion developed into a passion as the years of GQ stimulated my tastes for classy, stylish, and unique menswear. Of course I would have no sense of where to begin with styling if it were not for my one of a kind grandmother whom constantly supplied me with clothing through the holidays and even took me out to select my own outfits (usually for back to school) throughout my upbringing. The idea of being a model in GQ was quite enticing and thus with so many motivational factors I took a step into the first stage of the modeling challenge and moved to New York City.
He reviewed my book and said he couldn't guarantee me anything but the fact that the designer sent him my info rather than the reverse it was a good sign and that he'd be in touch. He also referred me to go see a booker at a smaller agency which I've done and am currently waiting to hear back from. So from googling a designer and sending a note of interest I got a good chance at walking in a fashion week runway show and met with a new agency which I had not been seen by yet-point and case.
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