When I first moved to NY I quickly learned that working in catering was the best way to make money for the least bit of required skill. There is ample opportunity to acquire work in the field especially if you've got the model aesthetic. Some companies hire any type of person and some work exclusively with models. I've currently got a few companies that offer me consistent work and I'm able to pick and choose between the hours and compensation which vary between job.
Tonight I was hired to be a server at a Jewish wedding in Long Island. Tuxedos were the designated attire and the company who staffed me provided me with one, they actually gave it to me. We're not talking Armani, this suit will probably fall apart in a week. In comparison to cars this suit is a soap box car to luxury vehicles none the less, I made it look good.
I made it to the departure location being that we were driving to a country club in long island from the city. 15 guys loaded into a 15 passenger van and most of us passed out during the 45 minute drive. We pulled into the property and immediately filed down to the basement where we were briefed on how the night was planned to go down and then we were positioned in a massive tent where the wedding ceremony would take place.
The country club had its own serving staff so what the 15 of us hired by the model staffing company were brought in for was to oversee everything and make sure things ran smoothly. Basically we were paid to look pretty and manage the house staff. The effort needed for the night was minimal which was relieving as my energy was low and my desire to work as hard as usual catering events was not present. I did arrive with a slight bit of hunger and had every intention of taking care of that despite the managers lack of planning to do so.
Proceeding the ceremony was a cocktail/light food hour and a half where the tuxedo rocking models merely paced the room picking up glasses and keeping things tidy while the house staff served and heavily cleared drinks and dishes. I immediately sensed a bit of friction as we (the models) were instructed to only clear two glasses or two plates per clearing while the members of the serving crew of the country club were serving and clearly heavily. I did find some humor in that and continued to humor myself by playing a game with myself. How much food can you eat without being yelled at.
Initially I had an advantage as the house staff were blatant server looking folks with black vests and serving trays while the crew I was with seemed to blend in with the rest of the guests with the majority of the men wearing similar looking outfits. Finger foods were passed while there were extravagant buffets with most types of foods offered in excess. At first I scoped my options and determined that since many of my superiors were unknown I'd have to maintain a ninja like consumption of food and was only able to eat the finger foods. The buffet foods such as pizza and mini burritos would be a much more difficult challenge.
After consuming some chicken skewers and mini hot dog rolls from the servers trays I was uncontrollably enticed by the foods at the buffet tables. Food from the tabled buffets was only acquired by holding a plate and directing the server to serve a certain food and portion on that plate. Since we were directed only to pick up one or two items at a time I would find a lonely plate or a plate which already had food placed on it by a server awaiting its retrieval by a starving jew (twas a jewish wedding don't forget). I would then go to a food station with food easily able to be consumed in a bite or two and discreetly approached the serving station and requested the food. My attempts while cautious were successful. I managed to get these killer fried shrimp balls and some pizza, yes I said it... Pizza. Once some of the house servers started to grasp that I was "working" they started getting sassy so I pulled back my efforts and began to blend back in with the rest of the model staff.
Guests were migrating to the ballroom where they had their designated tables so I headed to my assigned tables "three and four" to see who I'd be required to pretend I liked and wanted to serve. Fortunately I had two house staff to take care of drinks though I did ask those with thirsty eyes if I may have the pleasure of fabricating beverages before their eyes. When the food was to be served, house staff choreographed a table by table display of serving precision.
First, the salads were layers of fried zucchini, mozzarella cheese, roasted red peppers, and some other colorful veggies. As they were consumed and cleared a wave of combo plates were served; fillet mignon and chicken breast with potatoes and asparagus. Lastly, desert was chocolate lava cakes and on a separate plate was a not so tasty fancy version of apple pie. Each plate in the last round of serving had a scoop of ice cream and for every table there was a plate of strawberries with pineapple slices. Break down was slow and monotonous but eventually we were all back in the van, passed out, ready to go back to our places to sleep.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
My First Porn Shoot
I found the post on craigslist and let out a sigh. One of those sighs where one knows this may not be the best decision to be taking on but that there's a small chance it could turn out OK. My email sent and after a few days I was notified that I was the only male model to be selected for the shoot. I inquired on the specifics as I was not willing to be a porn star just yet and the guy working on the shoot assured me it would at worst be a "sexy PG-13" shoot. The compensation was discussed and I was confirmed.
Fortunately the call time was 11 am and the location was simply one stop down the train from my stop so it couldn't be any easier to go to. Unfortunately it was the coldest day of the year and the shoot space was a warehouse converted to a music venue mostly for cabaret and small bands. I arrived to the spot and met the crew, saw some ladies who looked like they didn't belong in the cold weather, and then some other girls who were a bit more prepared with large winter coats and coffees in hand.
This shoot was unique from my others for the blatant reasons but also because while I was a model for the shoot I was only there as a filler. The main "attraction" was the three professional porn stars. So when I was there every guy on set was chatting it up with "the talent" as they liked to say and I was lounging on the couch listening to music unnoticed.
The girls from the area were referred to as "the hotties" and I was referred to as "the male hottie or Mottie" (they thought Mottie was a clever term). The porn stars were "the talent". There were also some cabaret girls, a sword swallowing girl who also played with fire, a mustache man, and a midget (short person?-PC??). Needless to say, the crew had their hands full. To make it worse, the building we were in was cold inside than outside so everyone was basically huddled around the heaters while not being summoned for make up or shooting.
The first scene was on the stage. On center stage was a well used red couch and a piano sat off to its side. When all positioned; the porn stars were on the couch, a chick hanging from the ceiling immediately behind them, the midget and mustache guy on piano, and me with the two hotties on the opposite side of the stage from the piano. "One fucked up family photo" was the goal of one of the guys running the show.
There were a few more random scenes but I was only used for 2 shots so I was pretty much warming myself by the heaters all day. Lunch was nice, grilled chicken salad with sushi. Before any food was provided more or less as soon as the shooting started the girls requested beverages. The director of the shoot comes back with three bags of drinks; about 6 bottles of wine, some champagne, and 2 6 packs of beer.
When I was allowed to leave I enjoyed a few beers, exchanged contact info with the photographer and some other folk, then got my check and bounced. All in all it was a good day. Really easy money despite the battle with frostbite all day. Now I can call myself a porn star .... and die a happy man.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Hibernation - a temporary change of pace
My room has turned into a cave. Deep in the ghettos of Brooklyn. Take the 4 train as far as you can go, past the sky scrapers and hot pretzel carts. Walk a bit, go up the stairs, and enter my new domain.
Thanks to a designer friend with failed plans at creating an in home studio I've acquired long black curtains for the windows in my room. My land lord had complained to me that the towels I had stolen from equinox to hang in my windows were unattractive and that I needed to replace them with actual curtains. I contacted anyone I knew who played with fabric and while many people referred me to fabric shops one guy had curtains he had never used and now my room is a dark cave in Brooklyn highlighted soley by the light from my laptops ancient screen.
Perhaps its the weather or perhaps its time in the city but the more people I meet the less optimistic I am that I'll leave this city with many I'll remain in contact with. So with the outcome already forseen what is the point to seek real acquaintances? The industry I'm a pawn in requires friendliness and for that I accept conforming to the blatant plague of fakeness which already suffocates this city but in the past year I've been here my perception has gone from awe to distaste.
The other day when I was coming down the stairs at Union Square Station a herd of people were headed my way after getting off the train and as the crowd dispersed I noticed an old man laying on the ground struggling to get up. I ran to him and stuck my hand under his face to show him that he could use me to get up. He rose and thanked me. Why the fuck didn't anyone else help him up? Too much in a rush to get to their jobs or lives that a loss of 20 seconds to effortlessly help someone out was unfathomable? Priceless.
Alas, my cave has turned to my refuge. This may be temporary as a bear hibernates for only so long though the nights of passing out with the TV on and mornings exuding into afternoons is an accepted change of pace.
Thanks to a designer friend with failed plans at creating an in home studio I've acquired long black curtains for the windows in my room. My land lord had complained to me that the towels I had stolen from equinox to hang in my windows were unattractive and that I needed to replace them with actual curtains. I contacted anyone I knew who played with fabric and while many people referred me to fabric shops one guy had curtains he had never used and now my room is a dark cave in Brooklyn highlighted soley by the light from my laptops ancient screen.
Perhaps its the weather or perhaps its time in the city but the more people I meet the less optimistic I am that I'll leave this city with many I'll remain in contact with. So with the outcome already forseen what is the point to seek real acquaintances? The industry I'm a pawn in requires friendliness and for that I accept conforming to the blatant plague of fakeness which already suffocates this city but in the past year I've been here my perception has gone from awe to distaste.
The other day when I was coming down the stairs at Union Square Station a herd of people were headed my way after getting off the train and as the crowd dispersed I noticed an old man laying on the ground struggling to get up. I ran to him and stuck my hand under his face to show him that he could use me to get up. He rose and thanked me. Why the fuck didn't anyone else help him up? Too much in a rush to get to their jobs or lives that a loss of 20 seconds to effortlessly help someone out was unfathomable? Priceless.
Alas, my cave has turned to my refuge. This may be temporary as a bear hibernates for only so long though the nights of passing out with the TV on and mornings exuding into afternoons is an accepted change of pace.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Arrojo Hair Shoot
Working at the gay bar has caused some stress for the times when I have needed to look presentable on weekends. For my big hair shoot which began on a Sunday I knew it was inevitable that I'd be in rough shape upon arrival though had no idea that the Saturday before the shoot I'd be working til 4 am and drinking for the next hour after that. Fortunately Frank, one of the bartenders at the bar allowed me to crash at his place 20 minutes away from my bar rather than having to trek the hour and 20 minutes to my place.
My host graciously set out a pillow and blanket as I set my phone to its charger. We sort of joked about how I drunkenly went to my last shoot hung over with less than 3 hours of sleep and how I was gross for not showering beforehand and how it was sort of funny in a twisted way how I'd be repeating the same procedure for my shoot which was to begin in a few hours. I gave my sincerest thank you to Frank for his generous hospitality and set multiple alarms on my phone to assure my lack of tardiness at my shoot. My efforts prevailed and I, in my drunken sloth like manner managed to jump the 3 train and get to the hair school 5 minutes early.
Breakfast was to be served at 8:30 according to the days itinerary. "Breakfast" consisted of a platter of bagels, muffins, and croissants. Not the healthiest of options but never the less I splurged and had a croissant and some water. I met the other models, two females and discovered that the second one to arrive was one of the models I had walked in a runway show just earlier in the week.
The ladies were addressed first getting their make up done and hair cut. This provided me the opportunity to take advantage of an uncomfortable (comfortable to the hung over) bench in a large room which was full of salon chairs and mirrors. I managed to sleep til about noon and felt somewhat better than I had upon my arrival that morning.
I was summoned by the owner of the schools assistant and was told that I'd be shot on camera with Nick (the man in charge) explaining what he'd be doing to my, at this point mess of a hair style. My amazement to the size of this establishment continued as my passage through more unseen rooms brought me to the studio where I'd be introduced and eventually would receive my "trendy hairstyle".
Nick Arrojo is an older guy with a keen sense of humor and laid back style. Everyone who he interacts with has a smile from his jokes or reverent fear of his words. Being that I was his subject to display his work on he treated me as a friendly business partner. On camera his intellect in the field he was blatant and if I were into hair styling I'd be honored to be selected to be one of his students.
After my brief introduction on camera and having told the audience what he'd be doing to my hair, Nick introduced James. James would be the one who'd be dealing with the coloring (highlights) of my hair. He told the viewers that he'd be adding some color where if my hair was naturally down the highlights would be barely noticeable but if styled up the hair color would stand out. After his stint on camera James brought me to where I had taken my nap that morning and gave me my highlights.
By the time my hair was colored lunch was delivered and I indulged in a few half sandwiches. Lunch wrapped up quickly and I was back in the studio with the cameras. Nick then proceeded to cut my hair while being filmed as he vocalized each step of the process to the potential students who would be watching the film. After about an hour my cut had be completed and I was finished for the day.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Hair School Casting
Ever since I started dealing with legitimate modeling agencies I've been told to grow my hair out. I was never a fan of the Abercrombie - Justin Beiber look but complied with my superiors instruction. The shaggy hair style was a constant nuisance at the gym through my rigorous cardio sessions with sweaty bangs whipping my eyes at every thrust plus it was so long that at photo shoots unless the hair stylist was quite talented my hair was endlessly styled in the comb over look which is not my preference. The long hair had shown no true beneficial effect until I found a casting for an instructional hair cutting video for a prestigious hair/make up school.
I was out of the city with my family for Christmas when I had discovered the casting call. Originally I had planned to stay up North a few days past the day of the casting but decided to cut the stay early due to the generous compensation which was offered. It turned out to be a wise decision.
Taking trains through blizzard conditions prompted delays and transfers that I had expected but sincerely wished not to encounter. After about 5 hours on this train and that my bed welcomed me. The next morning I was looking severely exhausted with blood shot eyes, puffy eye lids, and some unflattering facial hair. I figured that since those holding the casting were a make up school as well as a hair school they could look beyond that of which could be concealed with their expertise.
The inevitable tardiness of the persons in charge of the casting was unsurprising yet still annoying though I took this time to scope the competition. The majority of the folks were female models and the men that I saw were with long hair but of a completely different overall aesthetic. One was big like a football player with long curly hair and the other was of some foreign descent with overgrown characteristics like mine. I remained neutral, neither worried nor confident. I acted my normal self, the owner of the school met with me, and I told him that I was beyond due for a cut and that if he wasn't the one to cut my hair I'd soon find someone else.
Days had passed since I had heard any news and my anxious worry pushed me to email the school. I didn't type a message asking if I had been selected no I decided to add some finesse to my inquiry and sent, "I've been holding the dates of the potential shoot and I'd just like to know if I may release them as I haven't heard back from you because I have others who would like to shoot on those days." I got a nearly instant apologetic reply stating that I had been selected and that details were soon to follow.
I was out of the city with my family for Christmas when I had discovered the casting call. Originally I had planned to stay up North a few days past the day of the casting but decided to cut the stay early due to the generous compensation which was offered. It turned out to be a wise decision.
Taking trains through blizzard conditions prompted delays and transfers that I had expected but sincerely wished not to encounter. After about 5 hours on this train and that my bed welcomed me. The next morning I was looking severely exhausted with blood shot eyes, puffy eye lids, and some unflattering facial hair. I figured that since those holding the casting were a make up school as well as a hair school they could look beyond that of which could be concealed with their expertise.
The inevitable tardiness of the persons in charge of the casting was unsurprising yet still annoying though I took this time to scope the competition. The majority of the folks were female models and the men that I saw were with long hair but of a completely different overall aesthetic. One was big like a football player with long curly hair and the other was of some foreign descent with overgrown characteristics like mine. I remained neutral, neither worried nor confident. I acted my normal self, the owner of the school met with me, and I told him that I was beyond due for a cut and that if he wasn't the one to cut my hair I'd soon find someone else.
Days had passed since I had heard any news and my anxious worry pushed me to email the school. I didn't type a message asking if I had been selected no I decided to add some finesse to my inquiry and sent, "I've been holding the dates of the potential shoot and I'd just like to know if I may release them as I haven't heard back from you because I have others who would like to shoot on those days." I got a nearly instant apologetic reply stating that I had been selected and that details were soon to follow.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Dead Mans Free Zone
Ties used to be my thing. My collection consists of over 200 unique, colorful, amazing pieces. The ties are old to new and came from thrift shops, donation, or as gifts. Every one acquires random things such as ties but their method of finding them can lead to some interesting stories.
As I was sitting in my corner at work waiting for the bar patrons to check their belongings I was browsing Craigslists' "Free" section. I found a title to a posting which I could not resist clicking to learn more. "FREE ESTATE", the location listed was Chelsea which anyone familiar with Manhattan real estate knows is a pricey area. My automatic assumption was that there could be something of value so I emailed the address listed to inquire with and got a nearly immediate response.
A tenant in an apartment building had recently died and had no listed family so the landlord created a post on Craigslist to see if anyone would be interested in taking some of the items. I was given an address and time to arrive, the information was added to my calendar. On the day of I went to the gym and then made my way to the apartment.
I entered the large building where I instantly came to the conclusion that this building required some significant financial standings to reside in due to the fact that the front door was one of those automatic sliding doors you see in Grocery stores. There were also desk men and elevators-all further signs that the rent in this building was high. All these signs and the fact that I was headed to an apartment on the top floor at the end of the hallway made me think that this was it, I'm going to find something good here today.
Walking down a dimly lit carpeted hallway I instantly pictured seeing the man who's apartment I was about to pick through wheeling down the hallway on a stretcher in a body bag. I saw the zipper slide down, his body perk up, and him saying that he hopes I find something good as his skin starts to fall off. There was something odd about what I was about to do but let's be honest, that feeling had never stopped me before.
The apartment looked as if it were searched through by the FBI and in rage of a lack of findings they just threw his shit everywhere. As you enter the residence there's a huge living room, one bedroom, a bathroom, and a good sized kitchen. There was even a blood stain on the carpet from where the previous owner had been shot. HaHa come on-just playing.
I was there for clothes so I immediately went for the bedroom. The landlord said that most of his tenants clothes had already been sent to the salvation army and my heart dropped. Fortunately though there were still some items for me to browse.
The jackpot was a few boxes of old watches clearly with no value mixed in with some old school (like 60's-70's) sunglasses. I took 2 watches and 8 pairs of sunglasses. Then I noticed a few unopened closets in the kitchen and I found a suit that fit and a vintage Paul Smith shirt. After concluding that I had covered all areas that required searching I managed to leave with a full body mirror as well.
Some clothes, lots of sunglasses, and a mirror added to my inventory all because I was bored at work and was scanning the free section of Craigslist. This is clear evidence that dead people can still be cool. Thanks dead guy from west 23rd street, may you rest in peace.
As I was sitting in my corner at work waiting for the bar patrons to check their belongings I was browsing Craigslists' "Free" section. I found a title to a posting which I could not resist clicking to learn more. "FREE ESTATE", the location listed was Chelsea which anyone familiar with Manhattan real estate knows is a pricey area. My automatic assumption was that there could be something of value so I emailed the address listed to inquire with and got a nearly immediate response.
A tenant in an apartment building had recently died and had no listed family so the landlord created a post on Craigslist to see if anyone would be interested in taking some of the items. I was given an address and time to arrive, the information was added to my calendar. On the day of I went to the gym and then made my way to the apartment.
I entered the large building where I instantly came to the conclusion that this building required some significant financial standings to reside in due to the fact that the front door was one of those automatic sliding doors you see in Grocery stores. There were also desk men and elevators-all further signs that the rent in this building was high. All these signs and the fact that I was headed to an apartment on the top floor at the end of the hallway made me think that this was it, I'm going to find something good here today.
Walking down a dimly lit carpeted hallway I instantly pictured seeing the man who's apartment I was about to pick through wheeling down the hallway on a stretcher in a body bag. I saw the zipper slide down, his body perk up, and him saying that he hopes I find something good as his skin starts to fall off. There was something odd about what I was about to do but let's be honest, that feeling had never stopped me before.
The apartment looked as if it were searched through by the FBI and in rage of a lack of findings they just threw his shit everywhere. As you enter the residence there's a huge living room, one bedroom, a bathroom, and a good sized kitchen. There was even a blood stain on the carpet from where the previous owner had been shot. HaHa come on-just playing.
I was there for clothes so I immediately went for the bedroom. The landlord said that most of his tenants clothes had already been sent to the salvation army and my heart dropped. Fortunately though there were still some items for me to browse.
The jackpot was a few boxes of old watches clearly with no value mixed in with some old school (like 60's-70's) sunglasses. I took 2 watches and 8 pairs of sunglasses. Then I noticed a few unopened closets in the kitchen and I found a suit that fit and a vintage Paul Smith shirt. After concluding that I had covered all areas that required searching I managed to leave with a full body mirror as well.
Some clothes, lots of sunglasses, and a mirror added to my inventory all because I was bored at work and was scanning the free section of Craigslist. This is clear evidence that dead people can still be cool. Thanks dead guy from west 23rd street, may you rest in peace.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Fit Model
New York City does sleep. Usually when the weather is shit or after 3 am on a weeknight before Thursday. The constant here is that your survival instinct is always on and those without financially comfortable careers are always in contemplation of where their next dollar will come from. Those who don't plan their income find themselves on the streets or on some form of cheap public transportation back home.
I've maintained my aggressive pursuit of survival and success in modeling as well as in the general life of a city goer. Since I transitioned from catering work to being a coat check boy at the gay bar I've gotten used to long nights on the weekends with quite an unpredictable guarantee that I'll make a decent income for the evening. Coat check aside, jobs still exude through the sketchy gates of Craigslist and I've some how managed to maintain a constant flow of again an unpredictable guarantee of a decent income.
One new job I've acquired from Craigslist which relates to modeling is "Fit Modeling". A mens shirt designer posted an announcement searching for a fit model and I managed to get the job. Fit modeling is basically acting as an opinionated mannequin for a clothing designer to report any discomfort in size and any other thoughts in regards to the final cut of the piece. I met with the designer 3 times before he permitted the group who would be fabricating the shirts to go ahead with production.
We met in the second floor of a building on west 38th street in Manhattan. The room was long and artificially lit with multiple long fluorescent bulbs, the ones that make you feel like you're in a lab or a stale office building and all of the workers were of Asian descent. Clothes of many varieties were either on hangers or on mannequins and I took from my observation that the people I saw worked with designers to put their art into production to send to the consumers. It was a really neat experience to see a new step in the process of how clothes come to be.
At my first appointment I was measured thoroughly as my body shape was to be the mold for which the shirt would be created. The "work" for the next two meetings itself was effortless as all I was asked to do was merely put on the shirt which was of a low quality fabric the business used to make test runs for the designers to check measurements and use on their fit models. They asked how the piece felt on me, how easily I could move my arms, and if I could recommend any changes.
The section of the shirt in between my shoulder blades was where my only comment was instigated as it was a bit tight. After speaking of my discomfort they said they'd add 3/4 of an inch to the location where it was tight and other than that the shirt was ready to go. The designer added a few minor alterations such as pocket location and collar width but other than that the shirt was good to go.
I got paid in cash and was thanked sincerely for my laid back attitude and professionalism by the designer. He said that he'd like to continue to use me throughout his work and that he'd like to use me for his look book (basically a catalog) which equates to more money I can look forward to also the potential of getting more images to use in my portfolio. Getting paid to have your photo taken is one thing but then when you receive quality photos with potential to be placed in your book its a really nice feeling because most of the time the photographer is the one getting your money or you or your agent has to request a free test, its a win win scenario.
Networking, as I've said before is a large part to the success in modeling so the more designers I work with the more confidence and optimism I get that good things are right around the corner and with fashion week around the corner I need to do as much as possible to get my name out there.
More to Come Soon
I've maintained my aggressive pursuit of survival and success in modeling as well as in the general life of a city goer. Since I transitioned from catering work to being a coat check boy at the gay bar I've gotten used to long nights on the weekends with quite an unpredictable guarantee that I'll make a decent income for the evening. Coat check aside, jobs still exude through the sketchy gates of Craigslist and I've some how managed to maintain a constant flow of again an unpredictable guarantee of a decent income.
One new job I've acquired from Craigslist which relates to modeling is "Fit Modeling". A mens shirt designer posted an announcement searching for a fit model and I managed to get the job. Fit modeling is basically acting as an opinionated mannequin for a clothing designer to report any discomfort in size and any other thoughts in regards to the final cut of the piece. I met with the designer 3 times before he permitted the group who would be fabricating the shirts to go ahead with production.
We met in the second floor of a building on west 38th street in Manhattan. The room was long and artificially lit with multiple long fluorescent bulbs, the ones that make you feel like you're in a lab or a stale office building and all of the workers were of Asian descent. Clothes of many varieties were either on hangers or on mannequins and I took from my observation that the people I saw worked with designers to put their art into production to send to the consumers. It was a really neat experience to see a new step in the process of how clothes come to be.
At my first appointment I was measured thoroughly as my body shape was to be the mold for which the shirt would be created. The "work" for the next two meetings itself was effortless as all I was asked to do was merely put on the shirt which was of a low quality fabric the business used to make test runs for the designers to check measurements and use on their fit models. They asked how the piece felt on me, how easily I could move my arms, and if I could recommend any changes.
The section of the shirt in between my shoulder blades was where my only comment was instigated as it was a bit tight. After speaking of my discomfort they said they'd add 3/4 of an inch to the location where it was tight and other than that the shirt was ready to go. The designer added a few minor alterations such as pocket location and collar width but other than that the shirt was good to go.
I got paid in cash and was thanked sincerely for my laid back attitude and professionalism by the designer. He said that he'd like to continue to use me throughout his work and that he'd like to use me for his look book (basically a catalog) which equates to more money I can look forward to also the potential of getting more images to use in my portfolio. Getting paid to have your photo taken is one thing but then when you receive quality photos with potential to be placed in your book its a really nice feeling because most of the time the photographer is the one getting your money or you or your agent has to request a free test, its a win win scenario.
Networking, as I've said before is a large part to the success in modeling so the more designers I work with the more confidence and optimism I get that good things are right around the corner and with fashion week around the corner I need to do as much as possible to get my name out there.
More to Come Soon
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