Sunday, 2nd August 2009
Model behaviour!
My young friend and I were having a coffee at my kitchen table, while she vehemently stabbed with her index finger at the rows of "faces" on the pages of a magazine.
I know her, and her, and her, and him, and him... she said. The do the circuit of the fashion shows and place only because of certain things. And look at this one. How on earth could she have made the screening selection? Did this guy pay good money for this hairstyle, I ask you.... I crossed my arms and she went on in this vein for about five minutes.
I told her that she was unkindly insinuating that the trophies awarded had nothing to do with good looks, vital statistics, and bearing. She replied that she was not only implying this, but actually stating it.
Knowing how much I dislike this type of public preening she then invited me to go with her to a couple of shows - she and her friends, oddly enough, find them an entertaining way to pass the time - so that I could see for myself that what she was saying was true.
Never one to resist a challenge - and all in the name of research, you understand! - I promised I would take in a couple of shows (no more!) with her, for the sole purpose of writing this blog. I only made one condition; that this would be an undercover operation, and that she would introduce me to people with my full name.
The Bling! The make-up! The conflicting scents! The low-cut dresses and thigh-relabeling slits! And that was just the males in the audience.
The models were more of the same, and then some. The fixed smiles they usually put on for public consumption were conspicuously absent; forked tongues were the order to of the day - rather of the nights, as these affairs usually constitute a night out.
If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the speakers to be crabby old women, tearing their neighbours apart and gossiping about who had done this, that and the other and brought disgrace to the family.
But my eyes were saucer-wide open, and so I could see that the veneer of so-called beauty was hiding imperfect attitudes and cruel sentiments. These young ladies (if I may call them that) had the rest of their lives before them, and they chose to waste their time nit-picking those not in their different cliques, rather than enjoying the events for the adventures they ought to have been.
So-and-so had thunder thighs; the other one must surely be wearing one of those whalebone corsets that did not allow you to breathe; the other one had false nails because she bites hers down to the quick; the redhead had been seen re-touching her roots the day before, despite the fact that she claims she's a natural strawberry blonde; the one with green eyes had recently broken up with her boyfriend because he was two-timing her; the thin one was surely anorexic; the one in the crimson dress had been a dunce in class; the one in the one-piece swimsuit was probably pregnant; the other one slept around....
I had sidled up to some of them, on both occasions, several times, pretending I was texting a message on my cellular phone. This is how I remembered all of the above - and there was more, much more.
We each marked our preferences on the programmes. However, it would seem that my criteria did not match those of the judges (some of whom were totally clueless about use of cosmetics, and suitable hairdos and clothes for what were described as gala events). I shudder to think of how they thought they could judge people upon matters in which they failed so miserably.
The results brought the usual crocodile tears from the winners and ecstatic applause from the coteries of those who won - and some booing and snide comments from the circles of those who had not. My choices had, incredibly, all paced fourth, in each and every category. This says as much about my opinions as much as it does about other things.
My friend's guesses were better - but then she was used to this rigmarole. She even predicted that the beautiful foreign-looking woman who had an impeccable package of height, grace, and good looks would be beaten by someone who was not as physically blessed.
Of course one cannot judge an event on the basis of one comment; yet I was particularly perturbed by one of the remark made by one of the "non-winners" (who usually places well in other contests).
On the way out, as we walked behind him he could clearly be heard saying "I will never, ever, take part in [this person's] competitions again!"
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Comments
Why is it a surprise that someone who spends all their time working on their appearance to make money is not working on the stuff that is inside? Why is it a surprise that they would be hyper critical? Or that the judges would chose someone based on... well, we don't know what back room secrets they are basing their criteria on. I'd like to think it was marketability which would include timeliness and how they work with others. But that's because I know what it's like to have a deadline not met because of the talent.
Thanks for the insider view from the fly on the wall as it were.