The Pervert Photographer Rears His Ugly Head

I have to admit that after hearing countless horror stories from other models about lecherous photographers asking them to shoot in compromising positions (such as using the loo and other such nasty nonesense) I got away from it all pretty much unscathed. I did have one incidence while in Milan this particular season that left me feeling like I needed to take a really long scaldingly hot shower complete with a Lysol scrub down.

Patty at the agency called me to tell me that a very well-known Milanese photographer had seen my comp card and wanted to shoot me for an art exhibit that was being held in his honor. This photographer had shot Iman, Naomi Campbell, Linda, Christy, et. al. So to say that I felt honored to be chosen by him for this project is an understatement. Patty was excited too since I was the only girl at the agency that he'd picked and, well, it was just shits and giggles all around.

The day of the shoot I met with the photographer (who from here on out I will simply call "P" as his name started with that letter & I'll give him the courtesy of allowing him his anonymity) at his studio and he showed me his book which was, indeed, full of every supermodel that ever graced the fashion world. After his ego session he described the concept of the shoot we'd be doing and showed me the wardrobe, which was practically non-existant. Then he tells me that he will be doing my hair and make-up as well at which point I am feeling a little apprehensive since I am going to be wearing just enough to cover my naughty bits....although it was couture and obviously very expensive naughty bit coverage. Because of this P insists that he has to dress me. And I don't mean that in a styling kind of way. He insisted that he had to literally put the clothes on me....after shining up my entire body with oil..."so zat yew weel glowing like goddess". WTF? Hells no, my friends.

P must have noticed the look on my face and as if to make me feel better told me that he only liked boys. Bullshit. The man was leering as he was telling me his plans for the shoot. If he liked boys then I definitely must have developed a prostate overnight. Being in the presence of one so high and mighty in the Industry I was having a major dilemma. I didn't want to offend him and burn any bridges, but I also did not want to let down my guard and do something totally against my nature. I finally consented to letting him dress me but I insisted on leaving on my undergarments which I then removed myself from under the clothes (like I posted before, this is a skill you quickly acquire when you start modeling and have to change in the middle of a busy beach, piazza, or even Times Square for a shoot). I let him put the body sheen lotion on my legs & arms, but I took over for everywhere else professing a terrible ticklish nature.

The shoot went well. I still felt like I was in a lair with the Big Bad Wolf, tongue hanging and spittle dropping, but I did my job and got the hell out of there with my dignity intact alebeit a little shaken. I got great pictures out of that day, true. But who knows, I may be famous now if I had let him do with me as he pleased. I have met many girls who have lost huge campaigns because they would't let the client or photographer bed them. The casting couch truly does exist my friends, which is why I am happy to have kept my status as a middle model. Amen. Feeling kinda righteous.....LOL!

Models Gone Wild, Part I

I have volumes of pictures of my friends and I in obvious states of inebration causing mayhem in every possible corner of the great city of Milan. We lived in a state of perpetual Spring Break and I plan on sharing these moments with you by way of several pictorials. Here is the first installation, dedicated to the C-9 Killahs:

A typical walk back from Louisiana on a Wednesday night.



Mike and Isaak getting it on with the next hottest Victoria's Secret Model.



Mikey, Jackie, me, and Isaak sitting on the filth covered floor at the entrance to Hollywood.



Timmy And Mikey.....awwwwww!



Mike is obviously on top of the world (or a bus stop).

Hamburger Panini, How I Love Thee

I was just having an intense flashback (for no apparent reason) to the panini cart outside of Hollywood in Milan. I don't know if if was the ridiculously high alchohol content of my blood which affected my tastebuds, but I swear to you they had the best, most outrageously greasy "hambooorrrger" panini on earth. Once my friends and I discovered them, they became de rigeur after a night of libations and dancing. "Un hamburger panino per favore!" Lovely. Between the panini and my complete and utter addiction to gelato (nocciola hands down) it is a miracle that I didn't have to get an angioplasty after season ended.

I won't get started on gelato.....suffice it to say that I partook of it's heavenliness a minimum of twice a day. Gelaterias are to Italy as Starbucks are to any other major city...they are EVERYWHERE and I found it impossible to deny myself its decadence. Unfortunately, no 12 step programs for gelato addicts were to be found, so my rampage didn't end until I left the country. Mangia!

The Day My Client Offered Me Drugs

Everybody loves to talk about how the modeling world is rife with drug abuse, models collapsing on set from heroin overdoses or looped out of their minds on coke. Photographers are purported to offer 14 year old models lines of blow left & right. Sad scene, right? And the media can't get enough of stories like this. Well, allow me the opportunity to disappoint you.....In all my years of modeling I never experienced anything like that. Drugs at clubs and parties...yes, that happened and I saw it all the time. But never on set. Well...except for that one job in Milan.....

I had been booked for a shoe and hosiery catalog off of a polaroid my booker took of my legs. Two days after she emailed my polaroids over to the client I was on a train out of town to shoot the catalog. I passed the time text messaging all of my friends and listening to a Cafe Del Mar CD on my headphones while the couple in the seat in front of mine (which faced me, mind you) made out to the point of practically procreating before my very eyes. When I got to the town the shoot was taking place in, it was late at night and I was taken to my hotel by a photographer's assistant. I checked in, went up to my room, took a shower and crashed out. Or at least tried to. The hotel was clean yet spartan, no problem there....my issue was that the pillow was so enormously overstuffed and rock solid that a block of granite would have made a softer place on which to lay my head.

The next morning I woke up to an intense and practically paralyzing pain in my neck and shoulders. I could barely turn my head or look down. This was going to pose a problem. Trying to be a good & professional model when you feel like someone has taken a sledgehammer to your neck & shoulders is quite the feat. I met the client and photographer's team in the lobby and we piled into a couple of vans and were off to location. I didn't mention the pain to anyone and pretty much just grinned and bore it. I tend to be like that. I don't like to let on that I am uncomfortable or unwell while working which I know is stupid, but it is what it is. After the first few shots I began to sweat from the pain. It was the kind of pulled muscle pain that extends all the way to your fingertips and with the poses the client was asking for I was startng to freak out. But I gritted my teeth and went on.

After lunch I just could not take it anymore and I told the client that I was dying of pain, (it really had progressed over the course of the morning), and I was sorry if I seemed out of sorts. He was extremely sweet and concerned and immediately told me that he had a friend the next town over who could offer me drugs to make me feel better and be able to finish off the day of shooting. Hmmmm. Drugs. After a brief phonecall to this friend we headed to a meeting place and soon after, said pharmaceutical purveyor shows up. Here I was, for the first time ever, being offered drugs on a photoshoot.

And I was more than happy to accept and take the.......MUSCLE RELAXERS! Ha!!!!! So, there it is. Scandal of all scandals. My photographer's friend was a pharmacist and had brought some muscle relaxers to ease my pain. Nothing illicit or creepy by any stretch of the imagination. The sharp, stabbing pain turned into a dull ache after I took the pills and I finished off my job without any furthur complications. I got on a train that evening and went back to Milan where I buried my face into my very own, lovely pillow.

Rockin' The Short Hair in Milan

I hated having short hair, but it seemed to work well for me so I kept it for as long as I could stand it. Now my hair is almost halfway down my back and I wouldn't crop it for the world (well, maybe for a really high paying job I would!!). Milan has a ridiculous amount of hair clients though, so short hair was a plus for me. Most of the models had long locks and wouldn't even go to hair castings for fear of getting shorn, this cutting my competition down by quite a bit.






Most of the time things went well and I didn't end up with anything too radical done to my coif, although one job I did for Toni & Guy left me in tears and wearing a bandana anytime I went out or on castings for the rest of the season. The slightest shift in wind would leave my butchered hair looking like it belonged on someone driving an Aerostar and wearing mom jeans.

I'm A F*****G Model!!!!!!

Most tenderfoot models, no matter what market they are in, fall prey to the myth that in order to get into the VIP of a hot nightclub they need to show a comp card to prove that they are models. In every country that I have worked in, I have heard this same thing, and my first season in Taipei my hotel mates and I all took a copy of our comps to @live which produced severe giggles from the bouncer as he ushered us in. How embarrasing. Needless to say, I never took a comp out with me again.

So, no....you DO NOT need a comp card to prove that you are a model when want to be led past the velvet ropes. Believe it or not, models are obviously models (most of the time) regardless of what they are wearing, etc. and will undoubtedly be let into the VIP without standing in lines or being on guestlists. Unfortunately a lot of newbie boys & girls don't find this out until they too have been initiated into the world of shame and a full body blush.

Take my good friend, Mike, for example. Although I wasn't present on that particular night, Isaak shared the details with me. Apparently when he first got to Milan, Mike was told by another model that to get into Gasoline he would need a copy of his comp. When he got to the club he pulled out the card and started waving it at the bouncer who was giving preference to the girls and (as is notorious in any nightclub) making the guys wait outside. After waiting for a few too many minutes Mike once more approached the bouncer and in raised voice commenced to proclaim that "I'm a fuckin' model!!!" which the bouncer was not at all impressed by. Did he get in that night? I'm not sure, even though we all did frequent that joint later on in the season. The part of the story that I got from Isaak was so hilarious that everything else that may have happened after that proclamation was insignificant enough for me to forget about.

Psycho, Psycho, Psycho German Roommate!

A few days after Penny left and Eva had moved in, our agency decided to place another girl in our apartment even though the space was only intended to be inhabited by two people. This roommate came as a total surprise to us since no one had bothered to tell us that we would be having a new girl moving into our couch. Normally,one of the bookers would let us know in advance who a new roommate was and when he or she would be arriving.

After a full day of castings I came home to discover that the front door was unlocked. Milan, being a big city and not without crime, we were always advised to keep our doors locked even when we were home. This freaked me out since I knew Eva was working that day and not expected to be home until later that night. I gingerly opened the door only to find an Amazonian girl sitting on our couch completely naked and shaving herself down south. No lie. I couldn't help but stare at her in shock and disbelief. First of all, who the hell was she? And why on earth was she giving herself a Brazilian ON OUR COUCH???

After the initial mindblow, I walked furthur into the apartment and commenced to ask this chick who she was. She introduced herself and to be honest I can't remember her name anymore, but I do remember that she was from Germany and did not stop shaving the entire time. She spoke perfect English since her dad was American and in the military, so communication was not an issue here. I just really had no idea what to make of the situation. She continued on to tell me that she was our new roommate and would be staying on the couch unless Eva or I planned to give up our beds. Hell no.
At this point I excused myself to go to the bedroom and leave her to her grooming when I noticed that she had set her suitcase on top of Eva's bathtowel....yes, on the filthy floor! You have to understand that there is something particularly nasty about floors and streets in Milan. I have lived in tons of very large cities, but only in Milan have my feet literally turned black after an afternoon of walking around in my flip flops. So keeping floors clean is a losing battle. Eva's bathtowel being layed out on the floor was a faux pas of the greatest kind.

I queried this new chick about why there was a towel on the floor with her luggage on it and she briskly answered that she wanted to keep her suticase clean. WTF? As if it hadn't been left on dirty tarmacks and planes or trains or whatever form of transpo she had taken to get here? I couldn't reason with her and she would not let me take the towel off of the floor since "it wasn't mine". I would have to let Eva fight this battle when she got home.

After a week of having this girl eat us out of house and home, leave dirty dishes everywhere, including the bathroom and leaving the front door unlocked even when the place was empty, Eva and I were on the brink of losing it. We were not only annoyed but honestly worried about this girl's state of mind. She would babble on about random topics at all times, and often to herself. It was like listening to someone's stream of consciousness. Totally bizarre. We'd be talking about castings and she would all of a sudden start talking about a pair of shoes that she had lost at the beach when she was in 5th grade. That type of thing.

The straw that finally broke the camel's back was when Eva and I came home to find that all four burners had been left on and unlit on the stovetop. And since the stove in our apartment was gas and the burners needed to be lit with a match or lighter after being turned on, we walked into a literal gas chamber. Eva immediately called Patty at the agency and threatened to leave if this girl wasn't moved out the next day. Patty said she would see what she could do and that night Eva and I lay in our beds afraid to fall asleep because we were sure that the girl would come in and kill us with a kitchen knife for getting her kicked out. Seriously, that is how insane she was! Patty did end up moving her out and into one of the Celebrity apartments. You can't imagine what a relief that was!

Moral of the story...it doesn't matter how gorgeous you are, crazy is as crazy does.

On Losing Roommates and Birthday Madness

Back to my birthday in Milan that season....according to my journal, not only did we get to party at my agency's bash, but three days later I got to celebrate homestyle with my friends, both old & new, at my apartment (which you will notice from the pics was nothing but esthetic perfection) and later at another nightclub. For some reason I also wax and wane poetic on the moving on of my roommates.

Here's the entry from my journal regarding that blessed eve: :-)

5/28

Had my official birthday party on Friday. I was heartbroken at Penny's leaving on Wednesday. She's in London now. I wish her all the best, she is such a sweet girl. I hate that she had to leave. This is the first time that I have had a roomy leave before me. Ususally I am the first to take off. It is such a negative aspect of our industry. You meet people, you grow so close to them and then before you know it they, or you, are gone. It is so emotionally painful. I have to learn to detach myself more, but I don't know how.

Penny has been replaced by Eva from Spain who is also turning out to be an awesome roommate. She is hilarious and neurotic which I find to be a pretty great combo. We do have one tiny problem....another girl has been moved in as well and is sleeping on the couch. This one is a serious headcase and is sucking the energy out of the apartment. I hope to God she is moved out soon.

So, despite Penny's absence, I am dong fine. And Kari, my doll, is finally here from Athens!! She and I are soulmates, no doubt about it. The minute we were reunited it was like no time had passed at all. She came to my birthday party and my friends all love her too! Her presence was the best birthday gift!! My party was amazing. All my boys, Kari, Eva, Jackie, Natalia and me. We drank like fiends. I made these crazy punches that Paul had given me the recipe for. Rum, vodka, tequila, red wine and lots of fruit. Kind of like an insane sangria. We ended up at Gasoline where Geoff bought us bottles of Jack & Coke. We raged! Ned spent the next day hanging out with Eva and me. So much fun. How am I ever going to leave these friends? I hope I see them all in South Beach next season.

Kari, Jackie, and the C-9 Killahs

Just when I thought things couldn't get better, my best friend, Kari (remember her from Miami?) arrived in Milan after working in Athens. She moved into one of the Celebrity apartments on Via Fiamma, one block away from C-1 where all my boys lived, so I had all of my friends in one spot. Having her in Milan was the icing on the cake, because even though I loved my boys it was really nice to have a best girlfriend to commiserate with in ways only girls can do. Boys just don't get the whole concept of PMS, etc., bless their hearts.

Across from Kari's place was another Celebrity apartment (C-9) where one of the friends she made in Athens was living. Right after we met up the day she arrived, she took me to meet him and my group of friends grew exponentially. Jeremy, from Toronto, had a handful of other Canadian male models as roommates, Mike, Isaak, and Tim, who ended up calling themselves the C-9 Killahs (don't ask me the story behind this moniker). Along with Kari and the boys from C-1, the Killahs became my family in Milan, and it was a matter of days before a girl named Jackie would be added as a sister to this band of brothers.

The modeling world is small, and I remembered seeing Jackie at castings in Miami but we never talked or got to know each other there. But after running into each other in Milan we decided to break the ice and started hanging out. We had a lot of friends in common from South Beach and a genuine appreciation for Limoncello and margherita pizza. How could we not become fast friends?

Milan was about to become a whole lot crazier with this new crew. Peacocks on Leashes, indeed.

Kleenex or Pasta For Dinner?

So I have to break away from my memoirs for a second to address the issue of models eating tissue paper to loose weight. I just had a little kaffeeklatsch with some girlfriends this weekend, and seeing as all three of us modeled together, modeling is a topic that we always end up talking about. We reminisce about our days in the Industry and we gossip about the insanity of all the reality series devoted to models, modeling, etc., and of course we roll our eyes at the dirt the Industry gets thrown its way.

This time the hot topic was the fact that designers in Spain are now requiring models to be a certain weight, basically not be emaciated, because some young models have literally starved themselves to death in order to "fit" the ideal runway body prototype. We also tried to wrap our brains around the fact that it is being said that models are resorting to a diet of water and tissue paper in order to fill themselves up without gaining any weight. I am totally shocked by this. In all of my years modeling, I really only met three or four girls who had eating disorders. I knew more "normal" girls in college who were anorexic or bulimic than I did while working in any of the fashion capitals I spent time in. For the most part, the models I met and knew were genetically predisposed to be thin. I have to say that I am part of this group and have always loathed having people make snide remarks about how I must not eat. I eat. Like a horse. Always have and always will. Having others automatically assume that you starve yourself in order to be thin is irritating to say the least. And with this new scandal of models eating paper products to stay skinny, I'm sure a lot of the healthy and naturally thin girls working the runways and photo studios now are being even more bombarded by rude comments, assumptions and skepticism.

It is a sad day for modeling when news like this makes the headlines. I have been pressured before to lose some weight while modeling. In Tokyo I was asked to loose weight as they wanted me to turn my 34 inch hips to 33 inch hips in a week. Needless to say I went home early. How the hell are you supposed to have 33 inch hips after puberty? In Milan I was asked to loose half an inch on my hips and go from 34 1/2 inch hips to 34 inch ones, but I didn't and still worked consistently. Pasta, panini and gelato were my diet staples, never toilet paper or lettuce. I actually just don't see how it is possible to starve yourself when you are in Italy or France, or anywhere else for that matter. Food, and delicious food at that, is everywhere. If I had to choose between a week of eating wood pulp to land a major campaign or an enormoous bowl of fettucine, you would see me with a napkin tucked into my shirt and noodles sticking out of my mouth. Nuff said.

I just hope this new generation of models wakes up and realizes that nothing is worth losing one's health. Not to mention the fact that Kleenex just ain't that tasty.....unless maybe it came in a buffalo wing flavor. Pass the Ranch!

Milan Travel Journal Part 4

Even though everything wasn't always coming up roses....my years as a traveling fashion model were somthing of a fantasy...."exit real world" if you may. This little entry just shows how even though I was having a gripe with my agency and the owner, things were still pretty damn awesome. And I have to thank my friends at the time for how beautiful they made my life.


5/29

So frustrated with the agency right now. I will have it out with Patty when she is back from her trip. However, despite this I am still on an upward emotional flow which I can attribute mostly to my boys. On Friday we went to Gasoline. Just me and the boys. I had the best time. They are such angels to me. The one moment from Friday that I will never forget for the rest of my life was when we were in Hollywood and a Red Hot Chili Peppers ballad came on. All 7 of us linked arms in a circle in the flashing lights and sweat and sang at the top of our lungs. Total bonding. I love these guys.

Milan Travel Journal Part 3

5/28

I worked with the best clients yesterday. It was for showroom/fit but I got paid $3,000 for the day and have now officially cleared my account. Anything I make from here on out will be money in my pocket. And everyone said you can't make money in Milan. Ha!

My clients yesterday were awesome. They are a design team from New York and really loud & fun. They drove me to a couple of places in northeastern Italy to meet with textiles reps, seamstresses, etc. so that I could get fitted for their size 2's. I got poked and prodded and stared at for hours on end, but it wasn't brain surgery, so no complaints over here.

On our way back to Milan we stopped in the most beautiful town (Asolo) and had coffee and cake in the courtyard of a castle built in 600. It was the most breathtaking place I have ever seen and I am forever going to kick myself for not having brought a camera with me. Commited to memory, but how am I going to share it with anyone?

Feeling Famous

For some reason, every time I celebrated my birthday in Milan the most amazing things would happen. This first season, the agency party happened to fall on my birthday and I got the honor of getting to grace the party invitation's cover along with Eye for I's other "top" girls. I really didn't consider myself one the agency's "tops" but maybe they did...so I wasn't gonna go run and complain about it. LOL! My second season in Milan I ended up celebrating my birthday in Monte Carlo during the Grand Prix....but I won't give out all the details now because I want to stay chronological and not give away all the juice just yet. Suffice it to say P.Diddy, Prince Albert, Naoimi Campbell et. al. were there......not for me per se, but STILL! HAPPY FREAKING BIRTHDAY TO ME! LOLOLOLOL!



Oh yeah...for this particular birthday, I brought all of my friends to Old Fashion Cafe and we ate and drank and made merry until the wee hours of the morning. All paid for by Eye for I who literally "eyed" my male model friends wishing they repped them...since they were already taken by Riccardo Gay, WhyNot, Fashion, etc. The men's division booker actually told me that if any of my boys were unhappy at their agencies to let him know. Yeah, my friends are hot.

My Salvaged Milanese Tearsheets.

I have this huge Rubbermaid container that I keep in my husband's studio full of all of my old tests and tearsheets from the very beginning of my career to the current day....one of these days I'll go through them and organize everything. For now, I'll just share a few of my original Milan tearsheets. Lord knows the rest are probably buried under old portfolios in that container. I've only had enough time & patience to rustle up a few for each trip....and sadly but truly, quite a few of my pics have stuck together from years of neglect and heatwaves and are thus rendered unsalvageable. *sigh*

Some of these shots were for fashion and/or editorials, one is from the Vogue Sposa shoot (guess which one, lolol!) and the last two are from a super cheesy job I did for Donna Moderna but which took me on a two day location shoot in Tuscany. We got to stay in an unrealistically beautiful Tuscan villa where we gathered for meals in a ballroom that made me feel like I had been transported in time every time I sat down to inhale orrechiete or whatever was the food du jour. It is jobs like that that made me want to pinch myself just to make sure I wasn't dreaming and that I was actually getting paid to spend time in locations like these, smile, wear nice clothes and just be alive.














Ah yes....the gardens of the Tuscan villa I got to stay in for the DM shoot...bellissimo!

My First BIG Booking in Milan

Although working for catalogs and department stores should qualify as "big bookings" because the day rates are phenomenal, what really makes a booking "big" is the name of who you are working for. If you work for a major magazine, you will probably make a few bucks...literally...nothing to speak of, but you can say that you shot for Elle or Bazaar....or, prize of all prizes....Vogue. And when other clients find out that you shot for any of the afore mentioned mags and their partners, the chances of landing even bigger and better bookings (yes, money jobs!) grows substantially.

A week after my insane ride in Venice, I got a call on my cell from Fabio at the agency letting me know that I had booked an editorial for Vogue Sposa. Vogue Sposa is a cutting edge bridal magazine put out by Italian Vogue. I was thrilled! Even though it wasn't like I had booked a high fashion editorial for Italian Vogue itself, this was pretty damned close and good enough for me. After going to several castings at the Vogue offices and feeling like an imp next to all the preteen, amazonian gazelles with their 30 inch hips and waist length coifs.....I have to admit that booking this job gave me a prettty big confidence boost.

The following is my journal entry from the day of the booking, still magic to me after all these years.:

5/2

I worked for Vogue Sposa today. Me...working for Vogue! We shot on location at a magnificent 18th century villa with rolling lawns and splendid gardens. The kind of setting I once imgained myself living in as a child with fairytale dreams. I looked like an Edwardian princess in black & white billowing skirts, top hats and velvet blouses with kravats. So magical. I felt like I was transported in time. A dream come true on so many levels. I can't wait to see this editorial! I shot with 5 male models and it was all laughter and candid shots. I have to admit though that I was really self conscious about my skin. It broke out pretty badly this past week, and even though the make-up artist was reassuring me and told me that all models have problems with their skin in Milan because of the water, it didn't make me feel any less gross.

So, I hope the shots turn out great & the photographer & clients love them. Getting tearsheets from this will be huge for getting more work. Tearsheets from Vogue Sposa! I have to stop being so paranoid and worrying that they won't like the shots & won't use them. Yeah, I think I am a basketcase...but a happy one!!

Crazy French male model (can't remeber his name, but he was side splittingly hilarious) and me at the shoot.....he made the photographer's assistant take this polaroid of us....

A Tiny Little Hiatus

My rants are not over....have no fear, Peacocks on Leashes is still alive....but I am taking a week off to spend time with my new baby girl who arrived three weeks early and who, believe it or not, already has a modeling contract with my agency in New York! A week old and she is already a little model. LOL! Some girls have it so easy!

So check back in in a week and I'll be back on with more pics and posts.....each better than the last. I promise! :-)

The Legendary Naked Venice Bridge Jump

I have to admit that it makes me chuckle to this day when I hear models and bookers at random talk about the supposed urban legend of a group of models jumping totally naked off of the Rialto Bridge in Venice Italy. Urban legend? Ha! The only thing that is remotely mythic about this bridge jump is that it is STILL to this very day talked about by completely random people in the industry.....how could I have imagined this would go down in modeling history when I was boarding the train from Milan to Venice with my friends that fated morning.

En route to Venice!:



Rather than try to re-tell things as they happened, I'll just go ahead and copy my journal entry from that day. Here goes....the myth, the urban modeling legend......IS REAL!

4/25

Yesterday, Jean-Paul, Ned, Paul, Muffin, Jennifer, Katarina, Jason, Sam and I all took the 9 am train from Milan to Venice. We had a blast piling into the compartments and joking around. Then once we got to Venice we ran around the city like crazed teenagers eating, singing, laughing, joking. I was once more amazed at how exquisitely beautiful that city is.

Models DO eat junk food...and lots of it. Burger King in Venice....they should have paid us for this!:



We bonded so well as a group and our energy together was amazing. As evening approached, we went into a small liqour store down a tiny, cobblestoned alleyway and bought cheap wine that we commenced to drink while walking around the streets and piazzas of the city until we were all in a drunken state of sheer bliss.







We ran around like children hiding and chasing each other down dark alleyways, peeing in the canals, window shopping for masques and loving being with each other. And then, at midnight, the boys decided to go skinny dipping in the Grand Canal...by way of jumping off of the RIalto Bridge.

Maybe because I was raised by outrageously straight laced parents, and I could hear....even while inebriated...my mother's voice stating the cliche "If your friends jumped off of a bridge, would you?", I abstained from the event. Instead I contented myself with taking pictures of everyone although somewhere inside of me I wish I would've joined them. By the time the second person had stripped down and jumped, there was a pretty sizeable crowd of tourists and locals that had stopped and become spectators....even at midnight there were people out with their camcorders and cameras. I wasn't the only one recording this event.

One after another, my friends all dove off of the bridge in their birthday suits and then commenced to run back up the bridge and hurdle themselves off again. It was amazing, funny, beyond words. The onlookers we had attracted were cheering, people were hanging out of their canal & bridge view windows.....it was getting insane. And then all of a sudden we saw the police rushing up in their boats.

I am all about respecting everyone's comfort level....hence the strategically placed star:



JP pulled me away and we made it down off of the bridge. We saw the police running with their billy clubs out and ready and they ran right past us. I will never know why they didn't stop us.....I was dry, but JP was still dripping from the jump.....and they caught up with Paul, Jen, Kat, Sam, Muffin & Jason beating them with their clubs and then handcuffing them. JP and I ran into Ned who had somehow also escaped unscathed and, after some little Italian kids ran up to us and told is to flee because our friends had been arrested, we ran back up to the bridge and watched the police drive off in their boats with our friends. We were stranded in Venice.

So, we wandered the streets. The three of us. The Mod Squad. Finally at 1:30am we found the train station and it was locked so we sat outside for an hour. After freezing our asses off, we decided to wanter down a road and look for some food. Next thing we know, we are in a nightclub with a hairy backed transvestite in a tight red dress dancing next to our table. We just sat there not knowing what to do or think or if this was all really happening to us. I couldn't stop laughing. I was delirious.

Then a group of young girls came up to us and asked us if we wanted to smoke with them, so we all left the club and followed them to a piazza where we sat on the the steps of a church and shared a joint while one of their guy friends twirled a flaming baton in the air. Surreal. They sat with us and chatted for hours and at 4:30 am they took us to a bakery where they bought us each a jam filled brioche straight out of the oven. We said our good-byes, headed back to the train station and 45 minutes later our friends, who had spent the night in jail, were released. We were so happy & relieved to see them.

We got on the first train back to Milan and slept the whole way back, piled on top of each other like puppies. What an amazing 24 hours. I will NEVER forget this.

Tonight we all went to dinner at Louisiana. We have bonded eternally from this experience. I love these guys. JP leaves on Monday. I will hate to see him go, but now I know I can hang with my boys anytime. I can't wait to develop the pics from this adventure. What a rush. This is life!


***Note***

The next day one of the guys bought a Venetian newspaper from a newstand in Milan and there was an article, it may have even been on the front page, describing the previous night's event. Funny thing was that in the article we were described as "drunk, American youths" and they likened the bridge jump to desecrating the Statue of Liberty. I have to clarify that only Ned, Sam and I were American. Nice generalization, huh?! And I, one of the Americans, didn't even partake in the jump! I just photojournalized it. Guilty by association....yes! My friends that got arrested ended up having to deal with Italian attorneys. pay court fees, and were told to take a course of antibiotics because the canal water was so polluted. I'm not sure what all ensued after that.....but they are all still alive and well, so I'm assuming none of them contracted the plague that night.

Playtime in Milan....A Pictorial

The clubs that were considered hot in my day were Hollywood, Gasoline, Old Fashion Cafe, and Louisiana (on Wednesday nights). Favorite (or only) method of transportation to said venues: foot or public transpo. After arriving at whichever place was considered the hot spot du jour, we'd be escorted to the VIP where we would usually have a table along with other models and the drinks would appear and reappear all night....playtime! The only exception to this rule was at Hollywood where I would be allowed into the VIP but since I always had all of my guy friends with me, they would be turned down more often than not. The guy to girl ratio always had to lean strongly towards the girls.....and since I had too much fun hanging out with my friends, and the alternative would mean getting liqoured up by middle-aged (and older) modelizers wearing wedding bands, Hollywood was my least favorite place. Gasoline and Old Fashion were our definite favorites.

One night in Gasoline:



The party boys, prefunking in the C-1 courtyard:



More prefunking and modeling of what are not quite whities or tighties (sent by one of their moms....moms have AWESOME taste in underwear, eh?):



No free drinks at the VIP in Hollywood? No problem....the panini stand outside the club always had excellent vino in a box complete with the ever classy plastic cups to drink it out of!



When you're a middle model you ride trams and subways...NOT limos....to parties:

Thank God We Spoke Spanish!

When Penny and I found out that Blink 182 was going to be performing at the Fila Forum in Milan, we ran out and bought tickets. Going to a rock concert in a huge venue in a foreign country was going to be a blast!! And I was going to get my otherwise shy roomie out of the house and maybe rockstar her up a little. I couldn't wait! But, two days before the concert, Penny booked a job and had to fly to the South of France, so she generously offered me her ticket and told me to give it to Jean-Paul so I wouldn't have to miss it or go by myself. JP was as excited as I was to go, we both liked the band and had a favorite song from our Miami days that to this day always reminds me of the good times we had together.

The night before the concert JP took me to Antlantique with 8 of his roommates. There I was, little me, with an entourage of eight beautiful boys. Not a bad way to spend a Friday night! Atlantique was a "cafe" that served free buffet lunches to models during the day and at night was an over the top nightclub that indulged in a little too much Europop, but when you are with good people and libations are free flowing , the music, the venue, and everything else matters not. This was one of my first nights out on the town in Milan with my new crew, and these boys could party like the best of them treating me like one of them and not just a hanger-on or some fragile girlie girl. I can't imagine how bored and lonely things would have been for me my first few months in Milan had JP not been there at the same time and introduced me to his roommates.

So...back to the Blink 182 concert.....JP and I boarded the bus that would take us to the outskirts of Milan where the Fila Forum was situated. The bus was full of Italian youth going to watch the concert as well....so JP and I decided that instead of seeming obviously American we would stick to speaking solely in Spanish (he is from Puerto Rico). And thank God we did. Nobody looked at us twice, they must ahve assumed we were from Spain. Thank God.

During the show the band got incredible accolades from the crowd, they sounded amazing, adrenaline was pumping and so was the sound system. Fila Forum was fit to burst full of concert-goers and JP and I were loving the fact that we spoke something other than English. It was already pretty obvious that we were models....we just didn't really want to branded with the Stars & Stripes in this huge crowd. See, anti-American sentiments have existed abroad for a while.....much as I would love to blame it on the jackass that is our current President. When I was studying in Austria while in college we were warned by our professors to always say we were Canadian when asked where we were from. As a matter of fact, during the entire concert, the guys in the band would make quips and throw out random jokes, none of which were laughed at, and I am assuming it was due to the fact that the punchlines were lost in translation. Finally realizing that their witicisms were getting nothing out of the crowd they all flipped the bird and yelled out "F***K America!!" at which time EVERYONE in the crowd cheered as if they were told that they were all going to walk out of the Forum with a million dollars in their pocket. It was disturbing. I can't imagine what it must be like now......I think I'd be walking around with the Canadian maple leaf tattooed to my forehead just to keep my anonymity. So yeah, I was ever so grateful that day that my mom was so adamant about speaking to me only in Spanish as I was growing up. !Gracias mami!

So the concert rocked. JP and I left before the last song in order to get a spot on one of the busses back into town and made it to C-1 in time to meet up with everyone for another night out painting Milan a brilliant shade of rosso.

Trippin to the Tip of the Boot.

My first location shoot in Italy was for an Italian department store called La Rinascente....God, I hope I spelled that right, my preggo brain lapses on me quite often nowadays.....and location was in Otranto at the very tip of the heel of the boot that is la bella Italia.

I packed my bags, thanking the modeling gods that I had a roommate like Penny that would not take off with the rest of my stuff while I was gone, and headed to Linate Airport. Now I mention thanking the modeling gods about Penny, because I had heard many a horror story from other models about leaving for an out of town location shoot only to return to their apartments after a few days to discover that their roommate had taken off with all of their belongings. Now how on earth do you go about tracking down a girl in Lithuania so that you can get back your Samsonite full of pretty much your entire life on the road? Not something I ever wanted to deal with.

At Linate I spotted another model that I figured I would be working with. She didn't seem at all approachable so I kept to myself and off we went. Upon arrival in Southern Italy we were picked up by the client's driver and taken to our hotel. It was late at night by the time all was said & done (the car ride from the airport to the hotel was a long one), so we checked in and found our rooms. After gingerly looking around my room...something I always do no matter how nice the place, because yes, I am totally OCD about cleanliness...I started unpacking my bag. To my awesome surprise I realized that I had left my toothbrush behind and I would be on location for three days with no way to scrape the plaque off of my pearlies. Fanfreakintastic. If the shoot had been in a CITY I could have hoofed it out somewhere and found a toothbrush no problem....but the hotel was completely isolated and therefore I was pretty much shit out of luck to put it bluntly.

So, while muttering a lot of choice profanity under my breath, I prepared for a shower which I hoped would help make me feel somewhat clean even if I was gonna be stuck with yuckmouth. Well, my friends, my shower was the equivalent of standing under a stream of lukewarm urine...not that I have ever partaken in a golden shower, but if I could equate it to anything, that would be it. A tiny trickle of lukewarmth.....shaving under those conditions is not a good thing,....you end up razoring off your goosebumps. It feels divine, let me tell you. So there I am shivering, razor burning and cursing the fact that I can't even so much as brush my teeth when I get the brilliant idea to use one of the cotton balls I had packed in lieu of a brush. Okay, not so bad, I put toothpaste on it, rubbed it on my teeth, rinsed.....much better. At least I wouldn't be killing anyone with dragon breath or developing a severe case of gingivitis anytime soon. But the combo of what was happening in my hotel bathroom was not in any way, shape or form helping me feel like the model I was supposed to be. I could almost forecast waking up with an entire colony of cystic acne on my forehead at that point. Luckily, that didn't happen.

The next morning, talent and crew gathered for a quick breakfast and we were off to shoot. We drove around Otranto and its vicinity shooting in cobblestone alleyways, piers, seaside cliffs, by a lighthouse.....it was a long day. Beautiful but long. This culminated in a very large and loud pasta dinner at a local restaurant where a random patron had a rose sent over to me. I got eyeball daggers from the other model who was left with nothing, but what the hell, the dude that had sent me the rose was no Prince Charming. Think Tony Soprano with gold teeth.

After two more days of shooting, and all the while I am loving my lack of a real shower and my cottonball dental hygiene, the clients let me know that they had called my agency and told them that they wanted to keep me for two more days. Great for the money, but no so great for the fact that that meant my personal hygiene would really suffer now, especially since I, still being something of a modeling tenderfoot, had only packed just enough underwear for the time I was supposed to be away. I will spare you the details, but whoever the maid was who had to clean my room out must have gotten a kick out of seeing my knickers hanging from the shower rod. Shampoo makes for great laundry detergent if you are ever in a pinch. Smells good and it leaves your items smooth and tangle-free.

The last two days we spent shooting this job took us to another seaside town called Gallipoli. It was amazing, breathtaking, and a million other descriptive words for "beautiful" that I just can't think of right now. We shot all over the town and every square inch of it was a dream. Whitewashed buildings, azure waters, cobblestoned streets, stunning architecture, painted fishing boats in the harbor.....it was the kind of place you honestly wondered could truly exist....had you just walked into a painting? I was humbled and happy and in no hurry to ever return Stateside.

Gallipoli.....amazing....





On our last evening in Southern Italy, we were invited to have dinner at a villa belonging to a close friend of the photographer. I won't bother to describe it to you other than to say that it was my dream house. The minute I walked in I fell in complete lust with that house and it's gardens. It was some crazy hybrid of Pottery Barn New York loft & Tuscan dreamscape. Oh to be rich.......At the end of the evening the photographer approached me and let me know that his friend wanted to extend an invitation to me to spend a weekend at his villa whenever I wanted. Flattering? Yes. Tempting? Nope. Although I would have taken the house in a heartbeat, it's owner I could have done without. And since I have always had an aversion to sugar daddies, that little dealio was nipped in the bud. But I have to say, roses from Tony Soprano and villa weekend invitations from a would-be Casanova were making me think that this whole hot shower, shaving, tooth brushing, clean underwear wearing thing was overrated.

The next night found me in my little Chinatown hovel taking an embarassingly and completely non environmentally conscious loooooooooong and very hot shower. I was so glad to be home. Oh, and I prectically kissed my toothbrush and lingerie when I got home too. Penny must have thought I was completely out of my gourd.