Portland Fashion

So, I won't bore you with the rest of the details about my summer back in P-town, but here are a few examples of some of the work I did while back in Portland and Seattle. There really is a little market here, and I got lucky in that I got to work with some really great photographer's on jobs that were not locally-based....

Seattle Bride beauty editorial:



Evolition Hair Design campaign (aka the Cracked Out Geisha shoot)



Hiroshi shoot



experimental Portland test

Taipei or Tokyo? Tokyo or Taipei?

Because nothing inspires journal entries as much as anxiety and depression (with rockstardom coming in at a close second) the so-called summer of my discontent inspired these:

7/16

I have such an amazing life! All I have to do is pick up the phone, tell my agencies where I want to go, & the next thing I know, I'm off, all expenses paid. This morning I talked to Heather. I turned down a contract in Tokyo with Folio to go back to Taipei, but I truly believe that was the wisest decision. I know I'll work in Taipei, I have my old clients there already, whereas Tokyo could be more of a gamble. In Taipei I'll get more editorial tears and get to room with Kari! I can't wait! I am so excited to go back to Taiwan & share the experiene with by best friend!

As for now, I have 4 weeks left in Portland. I have so much to do to get ready!!



7/17

Small worry. Taipei is worried about my hair. They don't like that it's still so short, they think I will work more if my hair is longer. This wasn't an issue when I was there last time! What the hell? Anyways, the verdict will be in tomorrow. Do I go to Taipei or to Tokyo? I know I'll do well in either market.....I just need to get there.


7/20

I am seriously going insane. I sit in my apartment alone all day reading or watching TV. My social life has gone from amazing the past 8 months to nonexistant now. I love my apartment, I love my cats, but I can't deal with how limited my interraction with other people has become. I can't deal with not knowing where I am going in 3 weeks. Still no word from Taipei about my hair & my contract. I'm losing it! I am missing my Milan posse so much right now.


7/24

I've been confirmed for Tokyo!!!!!! I leave August 20th or 21st. Thank you, God!

The Beginning of the Summer of My Discontent...

So after this incredible year of traveling, modeling, making incredible friends and living like a veritable rockstar, I found myself back in Portland. In a way, it was good to be back. I thought a break from the "jet set" lifestyle would do me good and i could get back into reality, even though I was really kinda liking my alternate reality.

I rented a studio apartment in Portland's trendy Knob Hill neighborhood, two blocks away from NW 23rd Ave., and right behind Trader Joe's....this was good. It may not have been an ocean view apartment on South Beach or a flat in Milan, but it would do....and if you know about Trader Joe's, then you know what I mean. My apartment was, to date, one of my favorite places I've ever lived in. The building was built in 1929 and the management kept the place spotless and beautifully detailed with its original floors and tile work. It had a really great energy, a view of the woodsy West Hills, and was my tiny little haven where I spent hours reading and emailing my friends who were, as they are now, spread all over the world.

Coming back to Portland with a book full of Taiwanese, Miami and Milanese tears and tests, meant that my local agency and Seattle agency were going to be able to start lining up good bookings for me. I had a new comp made and I spent the next few months working for clients like Nike, the Bon Marche, Nordstrom, Meier & Frank, Fred Meyer, Brooks Athletics and other smaller clients. To make time pass in between bookings, and because I really had no friends left in town, I got a job at Urban Outfitters that I could walk to from my apartment. It was a fun environment to work in, my co-workers were great, and I got a discount on clothes....what more could a girl want?!

Besides being travel & friend sick, things were good. I was keeping busy and waiting to hear from my agency in Vancouver BC about when and where I would be going next. I was either headed back to Taipei or going to Tokyo. And while I was happy to go to either or both, finding out which one was gonna be "it" was a big deal. If I was getting a contract to Taipei, I'd have to go through the visa process in Seattle again, which is NOT fun.....basically you have to apply for a tourist visa and you work there illegaly, but the embassy in Seattle is super and I mean SUPER suspicious (at least it was then) and the thought of going through that process again was enough to give me heart palpitations.....and if I was going to Tokyo then I would have to make sure that I did not gain another quarter of a centimeter on my hips which were still at 34 1/2 inches. Hey....I had just come back from 8 months of eating Cuban food and Italian food.....it's a miracle my WAIST wasn't 34 1/2 inches!

So the waiting game had begun.....and so had the summer of my discontent.

Reminder Reminder Reminder, Yes!

Wow. With that last post I made on here I realized that almost to the date my original journal entry was 6 years ago! Crazy. No wonder I feel like a wrinkled old geriatric prune.

If you are checking in for the very first time and allowing the Peacock to pluck your virginity.....this blog is my memoir.....accounts of my days on the road as a model. So for this to make any sense you gotta start at the beginning....archives are at the right somewhere....knock yourselves out!

;-)

Milan Travel Journal Part 7

7/11

I'm on a plane back to the States. Mixed emotions. In a way I'm excited to go home, chill out, detox, make some money, make my body healthy again. But the most overpowering emotion is one of sadness. How do I keep myself from crying as I write this on a plane full of strangers?

My last few days in Milan I walked around in a daze. I was weighed down both body & soul with a sense of sadness that I could not shake. Then last night we all sat in Kari's room with only the soft glow of candles to allow us to see each other. We listened to sad music and bore our souls. This was good-bye.

Be strong, Morayma. I am leaving Milan...the city that became my home, that I know now better than I know Portland or LA. So beautiful it has become to me, so full of wonderful memories and the best of friends I have ever had. The best. Ned, Kari, Isaak, TIm, Paul, JP, Jackie, Sam, Mike, Muffin, Jeremy, Kerry, Jakob, Jonny, Jason, Eva, Fabienne, Sorrell...I can't imagine my life without them. My posse. My crew. I just pain at the thought of not seeing them everyday, this circle of friends.....

7/12

On a plane from Miami to Chicago now after my layover, and then back to Portland. So funny being back in the States. Nice in a way although I miss Milan & my friends insanely. I talked to Fabienne and Isaak yesterday from the aiport at DC. Kari wasn't home so Fabienne answered and then passed the phone to Isaak. They sounded so happy, and we joked for a few minutes before I had to board. Things are gonne be fine. I'll see these guys again.....life is good!

Being in Miami yesterday made me so excited for my season coming up in 3 1/2 months. I have a strong feeling that everyone will be there again. I know that Cormac and Neil will be back as well......Neil assured me of that over lunch at Principe di Savoia in Milan when he was passing through on business. Now I just need to convince everyone else to show up.....I already know Kari and Jackie will be game! JP will be there......We are going to have the most amazing season of our lives!

Ciao Bella Italia

Leaving Milan, and Italy in general proved to be an assault on my senses. Not only was I missing people that I adored and who were the tightest knit friends I had ever had, but that city & that country had become something of an obsession to me....and still is.

The art, the architecture, food, language, hospitality, joie d'vivre, atmosphere, scenery, EVERYTHING about Italy was so beautiful, so completely and utterly pleasure filled, that coming back to the States with its depraved, boring, Puritanical esthetics, just made me nothing short of clinically depressed. Gone were the stately, ancient buildings, the hustle & bustle of the people who even when fighting sounded lyrical and operatic. Gone was the TRUE and most delicious cuisine of that nation....Pizza Hut be banned, and gone was the pure essence of living life to the fullest the Italians seem to have the ability to do from birth. La Dolce Vita indeed. It exists and I got a dose of it, enough to carry me through to another season, but not enough to keep me truly sated.

I think that the minute I got on my US bound flight at Malpensa Airport I started going through withdrawals. If nothing else I should have been in the fetal position in the plane bathroom withdrawing from my cold turkey sobering up from my gelato addiction. All I would have with me, to sustain me until the next time I was back in that blessed nation, would be my journal entries and my pictures. Memories and nothing more. Memories of the lazy days at the Parco, of the crazy nights at the clubs, of the endless castings, fun-filled bookings, of running into friends all over the city, being called "bella" carina" and any number of other terms of endearment that Italians are so fluent in.

Memories of things that could only and would only happen in a place like Milan, like when my friend Domenico, who I have known since we were both in diapers, and who had moved back to Italy when we were still kids, came to visit me and took me out to Mexican only to get stranded after a late meal with no taxis or public transportation running. We had to walk several miles down cobblestoned streets to get back to my apartment and I remember he must have though I was mad because of how fast I was walking....a complaint all of my friends have always had......I walk like a grayhound on meth....always have, don't know why....and how I felt even even worse because I couldn't let him upstairs into the apartment because my roommate was having "issues" and would have beheaded me for bringing over a guest. Crazy, beautiful memories.

And my friends......oh my friends. How on earth was I gonna go back to the States and then Tokyo without them? I was just gonna have to find out.

I Hope Karma Bites Her Hard

My last week in Milan, Eva (my roommate), was summoned to Paris by her agency and was promptly replaced by an uber-bitch that had flown in from New York but was originally from Sweden. This humongous, Amazon of a woman went through my fridge and kitchen shelves the minute she got there and removed anything she deemed "unhealthy" without my permission or knowledge.

Gone was my overpriced jar of peanut butter, my coconut chocolates, Nutella and a few other items only to be replaced by some nasty barnacle looking crap and wheatgrass. This chick was obviously some health nazi of epic proportions. I bit my tongue since I wasn't planning to be at the apartment much my last week there....I had places to go and friends to hang out with after all.

The next thing I know, she moves one of her friends into the apartment without the agency's consent (or mine for that matter!). Her friend was another model who had been kicked out of her agency, Pepea Model Management, and rather than hit the airport she decided it would be a good idea to move in with us. This girl lay on the couch every minute I was home and never once asked if she could make room for me to sit and watch TV or read a book. She was obviously depressed at having been exiled from her agency and was such a source of bad energy in that tiny place that I really ended up only going home for showers and to catch a few hours of sleep at night. The Swedish bitch never once apologized or asked if it was cool that her friend stay with us, and since she was easily 6 feet tall and one of those "fit" swimwear/sportswear models who would have easily been able to snap my neck with her thumb & forefinger, I seethed inside & once again said nada.

On my last night in Milan, I hung out with all of my friends until dawn making it home at 4 am. I planned to shower and get 2 hours of rest before I would have to head to the airport and back to the States with my heavy heart in tow. I have to admit that I pride myself in the fact that I have always been a good & considerate roommate. I was quiet as a mouse when I got home, grabbed my stuff, took my shower, stepped over the homeless roommate's crap that lay strewn on the floor and got into bed only to have Scary Swede pant and heave and grumble that I was a party animal and what the hell was I doing out so late. I ignored her, fell asleep, woke up the designated 2 hours later, left my keys next to the phone as requested by my agency's accountant and left.

Since I was already so depressed about leaving this incredible city that I was 100% enamored with and the friends that had become my family here, I didn't think much about Scary until almost a year later when Patty (the agency owner) sent me a random email telling me that she was really upset that I would give my set of apartment keys to an Italian guy who apparently moved in after Scary & her leech moved out and made himself at home the entire month of August while the agency was closed & no models were in town. He was discovered by the cleaning lady who confronted him and had the keys thrown in her face by him shouting that a blonde girl with my name (hello, I am NOT blonde, never have been....but GUESS WHO WAS?! ) had given him the keys. That biotch from hell had passed my set of keys to God knows who and said she was me. Why on earth would anyone want or need to be so vengeful. I will never know. I let her toss out my food, move in a random chick and pretty much have the place to herself and this is what she thought was a cool way to "get me back".

And because she was in her early thirties and didn't ever party.....guess who the agency believed? A lot happened in between this trip to Milan and my second trip, so I won't give away too much about the second trip until we get to that point in the timeline, but suffice it to say that I went from the agency darling to someone the owner's looked at with a hint of suspicion. Not cool. I hope karma bites that chick in the ass someday....hard.

The D2 Party

One of the very last parties of the season was the D2 (DSquared) party that was held afer their fashion show in Milan. Keep in mind, that because I am not a runway whore, I worked best in Milan during mens show season during which time I could work mainly in editorial, beauty and catalog print rather than have to worry about being 100 lbs and 5'10" like the show girls need to be during women's show season.

I guess you can say I got the best of both worlds, getting to model in Milan, EAT and party at all of the men's designers after show parties with my friends, many of which got be runway gods for the season. And I have to go off track for a second here to tell you how awesome the male fashion show casting horror stories were. There was nothing more hilarious and stomach turning than hearing Jeremy or Mike talk about waiting in line for hours only to be handed a very used, very, very used little man thong to change into for the likes of Gianfranco Ferre. Okay, the thought of having to wear something that has come into contact with the nether regions of hundreds of other guys is just plain wrong. Lucky are the boys who are first in line.....not so lucky is the last guy in line who gets to don a sweaty and skidmarked loincloth with very small odds for booking the job anyways. And they wonder why models have to drink so much.....

So....back on track....the D2 party that year was being heralded as something not to miss so of course, on the night of, we all jumped on the subway and headed out of city limits to rub shoulders with the who's who of Milanese couture. On the subway ride there Isaak performed a very sweet pole dance for everyone and Tim showed us his gymnastics skills on the handlebars. We egged Mike on to do a runway saunter down the middle of the train car but no matter how hard we tried, he wouldn't budge. I'm sure the fact that the car was full of passengers didn't help, or maybe we hadn't gotten enough vino into him, but it would have been hilarious had he succumbed to our peer pressure!

Once at the venue we walked around taking in the pools of water, sunken sitting areas and mirrored walls a la Studio 54. Young men clung on to the arms of old women, and old men for that matter, and the atmosphere was surreal and made me just want to sit back and observe. This wasn't the best party experience for us, but it was definitely the most movie set worthy. You honestly expected to walk around a corner and find a group of people having an orgy on one of the white leather divans that were placed everywhere (and, yes, surrounded by mirrors).

Towards the end of the night we somehow all ended up in a little VIP sitting area right next to the bar and one of the boys (not telling who because he is now a Canaian soap opera celeb and I am not Perez Hilton!!) grabbed a bottle of SoCo and Creme de Menthe from behind the bar without being seen and we passed these receptacles of alchoholic nastiness around until one of the crew (same one who bottle napped the liqour!) ended up falling backwards off of our table platform and onto the dancefloor with one of the bottles causing mass glass shardage and a few cuts on his modelly epidermis. Yeah, that was our signal to end the night. We left, went home, puked in toilets, passed out, met up for burgers & fries the next morning and realized that we'd all be leaving very very soon.

It's All in the Past, My Friends!

Okay....so I am almost completely resettled and ready to start back up with my lst few weeks in Milan and my painful foray back to the land of the rising sun....but first I have to add a little sidenote to all the new readers of my blog.....

Peacocks on Leashes is a chronological recanting of my adventures as a fashion model. These stories are all things that have already happened , starting approximately six years ago. Eventually I'll get to the present day, but for now, everything you read is a look into my past.

To really get what I'm posting about you have to start from the very beginning which you can find in my archives (on the sidebar!) And I promise it's worth weeding through the archives.....

So, no, I am not currently in Milan, although I would LOVE to be. ;-) I still fantasize about moving my family to Italy someday.....but don't get me started on that one....that would fill a whole other blog....something about the Adventures of a Europhile.....LOL!

An Interruption.....

Just wanted to drop in & let you all know that I'll be off-line and thus, not posting for the next week. We have a big house move in progress and once we are resettled and have an internet connection set up.....Peacocks will be back with the end of my first season in Milan and my venture to Tokyo.

Till then!

Alora...You 'Ave a Few Castings.....

On a slow day.......

Milan Travel Journal Part 6

6/08


Partied at Gasoline's last night for the summer. Kuba was hooking us up with shots of vodka, etc. I like him. He's a cool cat. We've hung out a few times after hours but just as friends, even though nowbody believes me. After rallying at Gasoline, Isaak, Tim, and Jeremy spent the night at my apartment all piled on the couch. Life rocks even though I feel like crap this morning. Nobody outside of this profession, this world I live in, could possibly understand it. I want to live forever!

It's A Salad In A Glass & Other Random Bits

There are so many random moments that I remember from this season (and many of which I am sure to have forgotten) that I had to jot down those that still stand out but which are too inside-joke-esque to merit their own posts. I apologize if the following tidbits seem completely nonsensical, but those of you that were there with me.....I think you might enjoy your memories being jogged....

Towards the end of season our little group of friends started frequenting a spot called Bahnhof, aptly named as it was situated across the road from Milan's main train station, where every Thursday night (at least I think it was Thursdays!) we would be served a delicious dinner and drinks.....all free, of course. It was at Bahnhof that a couple of my friends got introduced by yours truly to Mojitos. I had to share this liquid delight with them, after all, I am half Cuban and had to represent. Isaak and Tim were quick to nickname this concoction a salad in a glass. After all, you get some greens, some citrus and of course some sugar cane all mixed together.....niiiiice liquid diet! Perfect fodder for a model hater.......I can just imagine the "mojito with a side of blow" jokes that will ensue from this one.....
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I think that I can attest to being a pretty good girl throughout my years as a traveling model with the exception of a few instances, always fueled by too much champagne or whatever was being served on that particular night. I never got "durrty" & my clothes always stayed on, but I do remember one naughty night hanging out in the VIP of Hollywood with one of my guy friends who will be called "N" for the rest of this story. I can't recall where the rest of our gang was, but here we were sitting at a random table being talked to by a swarthy, hairy guy wearing far too much gold (he would have looked at home chillin at the Badda Bing). He was obviously having some mid life crisis and was tittilated to have these two young models near him. For shits & giggles N and I told him we were brother and sister, and in reality we could have passed as such, only to start kissing spontaneously much to his perverted amusement. I can imagine he must have rung all his friends on his celly later that night to tell them he had just witnessed a live act of incest. Whatever rocks your boat, buddy.
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I remember hearing from Kari that Mikey was starting to date one of her roomates and how in a drunken state (be it alchohol drunk, love drunk, or a mix of both), he dove out of her bathroom window to avoid breaking apartment curfew, breaking the toilet seat in the process.

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Monday nights at Hollywood always served models with free pizza, drinks and an American movie. We never missed a Monday night there.....we were so spoiled, really. The best was hanging out all afternoon at Parco Sempione with a little spliff and arriving at the club blissfully sedate and ravenous for that cheese pie, then just laying back on the nasty vinyl couches we'd drag out of the VIP and watching a movie in our native tongue. Heaven.


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I always loved running into Jason on the subway in between castings.....he would never fail to invite me to hang out at the Parco with some friends for the rest of the afternoon. I usually declined, I was too goody-goody to miss out on my castings, but it was always so nice to know that I had friends that really wanted to hang out anytime, all the time. Nice to be reminded of that at random times during the day.

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Jackie and I became total Limoncello addicts that season. I remember walking to Old Fashion from my apartment on Paolo Sarpi with the drink in plastic cups and getting giddy and swearing to God that our skin was feeling oddly warm......anybody know if Limoncello really does that?

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It never failed that after a long night out we would all convene by the Duomo to eat Burger King (hangover food!) and catch each other up on the previous night's adventures. During one of these feeding frenzies we found out that Muffin had ended up passing out on a park bench with his wallet right next to head....miracle of miracles that it wasn't lifted! Also heard that another of our boys had ended up making his way into someone's backyard and spent the night sleeping on a trampoline. I always made it home, thank God, but did spend far too many nights swearing I would never drink again as I prostrated myself in front of the toilet....and once the bathtub. Thank God, my roommate was as big of a mess as I was!

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Then there were the simple hours spent just sitting at a cafe drinking capos and eating insalatones while people watching and wondering if life could possibly get any better.


So, what can you take away from these random bits? Yeah, we partied hard, but we always stuck together thus avoiding any potentially dangerous situations. Three girls and a dozen guys, give or take a couple, always meant that no other men dared break into our group. Jackie, Kari and I were safe to be rockstars. Our friends were the best bodyguards a girl could ever want. Leaving Milan was really gonna hurt.

The Kiss

Everyone has had a a "moment" with another person that pretty much becomes indelible in their memory bank. Be it because it was particularly meaningful, romantic, crazy or fun, these moments tend to pop up at random and make you smile, or, if you are unlucky, cringe. I wasn't unlucky with my "moment"...not at all.

During this season in Milan, I had developed a crush on one of the C-9 Killahs, but we remained nothing but friends, if not with a little extra chemistry. It was fun and totally harmless and unreciprocated until one of the last nights we all hung at Old Fashion together.

To make a long story short, this night in particular, one of Ale's friends was going nuts with the passing around of alchohol at our table. We had baskets of lychee fruits to eat and throw at each other (totally random) and glasses of vodka and juice that never emptied no matter how feverishly we were downing them. The club was over crowded that night with the "non-models" on one side of a fence dancing & looking over at all of us in the VIP as if we were in a zoo....and maybe we should have been.

We were all hanging out and having a very socially lubricated time, trying hard not to think about the fact that we would be leaving Milan in a matter of weeks, if not days, when my crush (who has asked me to call him Golden Arms in order to keep his anonymity) started feeding me lychee fruits. I knew we were in trouble at this moment because this would be one of the last opportunities I would get to seize the moment. At some point Golden ended up sitting on a chair backed up against the fence that separated the VIPS from the normies and Lady Alchohol lead me straight onto his lap, straddled, total stripper move and we started making out.

I have to say that what makes this moment a "moment" is that this kiss had ben anticipated for months, not just by me, but apparently by all of our friends seeing as the minute lips locked all of them started applauding and cheering us on and Barbara started snapping shots as if she were the papparazzi and we were Brad and Angelina. A total "moment".

Nothing else happened after that instance, but the rest of our crew didn't let us live it down the rest of season. To this day I am still completely mortified that I sat on him like I did....totally uncouth and unladylike, but was it fun? Absolutely.

High Fashion Editorial Pics from Milan

How could I not share some of these incredible, cutting edge editorial shots from Milan? Ellen von Unwerth, eat your heart out. These pics belong in Italian Vogue without question.

Walking in flip flops in Milan is not only comfortable but provides you with a delicious antipasto of grime for a quick snack between castings:



Tim models a fabulous fruit chopstick hair ensemble created by himself during a moment of intense inspiration at Old Fashion:



Ah yes, I finally found the land in which cars are miniscule whilst city maps are large enough to provide shelter to the inhabitants of a small nation:




Kari (otherwise known as "Legs") shows off an haute couture ensemble found in Fabienne's closet (otherwise known as the floor):



After finding a somewhat dirty linen napkin on the floor of Louisiana, Isaak commences to design a lovely Edwardian inspired cravat for himself. Project Runway, your new star is born:

Peacocks On Leashes???

So.....many of you have been wondering from blog entry number one what on earth Peacocks on Leashes means. Is it some kinky S & M practice? A form of animal abuse as of yet gone unnoticed by the members of PETA? The name of a rock band or nightclub? Nope. None of the above.

I had actually forgotten all about peacocks being leashed until last summer when my friend Isaak (yes one of the infamous C-9 Killahs) was passing through Portland and paid me a visit. I was telling him that I wanted to write a book about my adventures as a model and when he asked what the title would be, I drew a blank. Then he offered up "Peacocks On Leashes", and thus this blog was born.

See, the reason Isaak brought up that name, and the reason I decided to use it is because it brings back some crazy, crazy memories of an even more insane night we spent with our crew in Milan. We had at this point been going to many parties on a weekly basis. Basically, if you didn't have a booking the next day, you would be out partying that night. It's just part of the lifetsyle, and when you are a bunch of pretty young things, playing hard is just de rigeour. Every night brought about one awesome experience or another, but the night that brought about my blog's title belongs in a short film on the Sundance channel, seriously.

Ale, who set up our tables at Old Fashion every week, had sold us earlier in the week on a party that would be taking place in the outskirts of Milan at another outdoor venue. There was supposed to be a cornucopia of free libations as well as performing drag queens of the Brazilian variety (many of which could give Giselle Bundchen a run for her money), a red carpet to greet us and peacocks being walked on leashes.....yes, PEACOCKS ON FREAKIN' LEASHES! This sounded too Alice in Wonderland good to pass up, so we all memorized the date and when the night of the fete arrived we were rarin to go.

The club, called Spider (or Spyder...can't remember the spelling....ooops!) proved to be rather elusive. After piling into cabs to get to the club which if memory serves me correctly was about 30 minutes outside of town, we were dropped off at some random and very dark building surrounded by nothing. Needless to say this wasn't the correct location and before we knew what was going on the cabs had disappeared leaving us stranded.

After much discussion and confusion, someone decided to lead the pack in search of Spider and our, by then, much needed drinks. I'm not sure if this someone was Jeremy or Kuba, but whoever it was took us on a hairy journey through a pitch black forest and alongside of a very narrow highway where trucks and cars where flying by at Autobahn velocity. We walked in a single file line literally feeling the wind blow on us as each speeding vehicle passed us. After walking through a field listening with growing annoyance to Fabienne's cousin (who we later found out worked as a call girl) bitch & moan about her stilettos getting stuck in the mud with every step we took in order to get Kuba to pick her up or grab her ass or whatever, we arrived at Spider.

After being deserted by our cabbies and practically losing our lives on the side of an Italian freeway, we were greeted by....No red carpet, trannies in need of more estrogen therapy, ONE drink ticket, and by God, not a single peacock on a leash. Not even a rat terrier on a leash for that matter. Niente. Kari, Jackie and I got our Vodka Red Bulls and went up to our designated table where the boys were already nursing their alchohol and where eventually someone thrust an enormous plate of fruit on the table for us to eat. We did some damage to that fruit, listened to too much awful Euro pop and then headed home. Peacocks on Leashes, indeed. If Ashton Kutcher had been out of grade school and wooing Hollywood at that time, I would have thought we were definitely being Punk'd.

We never left the Milan city limits for a party again...excpet for the D2 party at the very end of season....which once again proved that out of town just means trouble.

Macy Gray Goes Well With Candlelight

Partying wasn't the only thing my friends in Milan and I did well together during our time off. Some of my fondest memories of my friends involve laying around in Kari's room listening to Macy Gray in the soft glow of the candles we would always light.....warm, Milanese breeze blowing through the open windows, sounds of people walking by and train cars in the distance. It would be the usual crew of Mikey, Isaak, Jeremy, Timmy, Kari, Jackie and I, just sitting there in silence, basking in our friendship which didn't always entail having to be raucous or in full blown conversations. I also remember sitting in the courtyard of C-1 with Ned, Jason, JP, Kerry, Sammy, and Paul watching them play chess or just getting lost in quiet dialogues about life outside of Milan and modeling, about our pasts and what the heck we were going to do in the future, and often we would just sit not saying anything at all. Great friends can sit in the quiet and not feel awkward.....these were great friends.

I'll never know what everyone was thinking during these magic, silent moments.....but I remember always feeling both elated and sad. Elated to be with these amazing people that I cared about and loved so much, and saddened by the knowledge that it was just a matter of time before we would all be dispersed into the world again. End of season would be upon us brutally soon.

I still get heavy hearted when I think about these times. It isn't fair to make such good friends and such strong memories with them only to never all be in the same place again.....although I did end up traveling for four more years with most of these cats after this first season in Milan, life inevitably picked us all up and dropped us in different places to "grow up" and step into reality. School, corporate jobs, marriage, socially conscious travels to the Third World......we are all now worlds apart, but not a day goes by that I don't think about my crew. The parties were fun, but this deep kinship we all developed in candlelight to the soundtrack of our season is what will always remain ingrained in my memories and what will never need pictures for me to be able to remember them.

Liam Neeson & Fabienne's Fabulous Vitamin E

For a while during season, Kari had this outrageously crazy model roommate from Switzerland named Fabienne. She was completely wild which made her fun to party with, but not so fun to live with. The girl would take Kari's underwear off of the drying rack (Euro apartments seldom come equipped with dryers) and use them then leave them lying around soiled. Awesome. But what the girl lacked in roommate couth, she made up for in her smuggling abilities.

There was one night in particular that comes to mind when I think about Fabienne. She had just come back from a trip to Amsterdam with a bundle of pharmaceuticals stashed away in her Kodak Cool Pix, or whatever those annoying little cameras were called, and was itching to share her stash with her friends. Kari, the Canadians and I were all over at Kari's apartment getting ready to go to the weekly party at Old Fashion Cafe when Fabienne traipses in and starts handing out what we liked to call Vitamin E. Some of us were newbies and some were seasoned trippers, but either way we all quickly came to the conclusion that this girl had undoubtedly brought the goods...and I mean good goods.

I like to think that my first experience with this mood enhancer was as good as it was because of the company I was with, but I do think that the Dutch have a bit more panosh as it were when it comes to producing quality recreational tablets. Whatever the reason, be it friends or ingredients or a combination of both, this night was one of the best and strangest in my life.

After taking our vitamins we all gathered outside Kari's apartment to wait for her friend Jacob to join us before heading to the club. As we waited, things started to kick in and one by one pupils started dilating, backs starting getting rubbed on whatever was near, lamposts, trees, anything was fair game and hands were being held, squeezed and tickled. I don't know if I can really describe what I felt in any other way than sheer bliss and lightheartedness. I felt like a child, giddy, joyful and with a mass of butterflies in my stomach. We ran like kids to the bus stop, boarded the bus and commenced to roll (pun definitely intended, my friends) to Old Fashion.

I remember passing the Castello at Parco Sempione and seeing the fountain lit up and just being in awe of how magical and ethereal everything looked. I remember looking around at all of my friends and being completely in love with all of them and with my life at that moment. I remember wanting to shout out how happy I was with a feeling like my heart was about to burst.

We arrived at Old Fashion, were immediately escorted to the VIP where Ale had reserved a table for us overlooking the dancefloor, and that's when things took a turn for the surreal. After getting to our table and pouring the first few rounds of drinks we looked over to the left only to see Liam Neeson walking to the dance floor with an Italian girl, followed seconds later by Julia Stiles who was not shy in giving the models around her dirty looks. To top it off, at the table directly across from ours, Kevin of the Backstreet Boys was sitting spread eagle and sending his bodyguards over to bring models back to his table....and the models he was pointing out were all obviously underaged. Nice. So....we all sat there, starry eyed (or glazed over, whichever you prefer) and watched this random grouping of celebs party the night away as we gave each other neck rubs and held hands.

Later that night we got the itch to leave and headed to Hollywood. I think we actually walked there but I could be wrong. Our group somehow split up and I made the journey there with Fabienne, Marcus and Isaak only to be greeted by a running Kari once we were half a block away from the club. She was yelling that Linley was in the VIP with a look of total shock on her face and of course the shock quickly spread to me....Linley! Our friend from Miami? How on earth could he be in a club in Milan? We ran back into the club hand in hand and there he was....our boy from the beach! He had come over to visit his model girlfriend and had no idea we were there as well. Now this would be a surprise sober, but can you imagine how amazing it was to be reunited with a friend on a totally different continent than the one you last saw them in while totally mood enhanced? It was great, I ain't gonna lie.

The next day I felt like I had had a spinal tap, but there was no pain great enough to make me regret that night. It was magic. I am not in any way condoning the use of pharmaceuticals...so let me clarify that one before I get crucified....but I did have one hell of an amazing trip....and I know I was lucky. Nothing afer that ever came close to comparing.

Fabienne, Newton (who prefers to remain incog), me and Marcus on our way to Hollywood. Someone took a random polaroid of us.....forever capturing our strung out essence.

M.I.A.

So it may seem that I have gone missing in action....but I am still very much alive and still very much wanting to keep my Peacocks Leashed. My husband and I have decided that we need to migrate back south next summer which has prompted us to put our house up for sale and look for a rental. That'll make it so that when we do move back to Los Angeles all we'll have to do is a give a 30 day notice to some landlord whose pockets we've been filling, pack up and get the hell outta Dodge...or Portland.....whatever strikes your fancy. So I've been excited,busy, stressed out, worried, sick to my stomach, melancholic and all the stuff that neurotic Geminis like me are prone to feeling....and thus, so suffers my blog.

But check back in in a day or two and I promise to have more pictures of beautiful people in strange and oftentimes stupid positions.

And maybe finally I'll tell you the story behind the name of my blog.

Go Home, You have Ugly Hair

Video castings (aka commercial auditions) in Milan are notorious for taking forever and a day. You sit in a room with pretty much every model that is in town and wait for hours on end until your name is finally called. I kid you not, it was pretty normal to sit at one of these castings for four hours before it was your turn to smile for the camera. Most of the time I would bail out after an hour and just go to all of my other appointments or to the nearest gelateria to stuff my face. I hated video castings.

Halfway through season I decided that I wasn't going to go to anymore of these castings unless the job seemed really promising and included a trip to some exotic location or something great like that. It just wasn't worth my time, and commercials in Milan generally paid crap compared to commercials in the US......I love me some SAG. And although I cringe at the memory, one of the few commercial castings that I did end up going to after I vowed to boycott them ended up being one of the most mortifying experiences in my modeling career.

I don't remember what the job was for, but apparently it was good enough for me to warrant spending too much time in a tiny room full of models, most of which had yet to experience the joys of deodorant.....just cuz you're purrty doesn't mean you don't stink......I think it may have been a United Colors of Benetton spot or something and I though it would be a kick in the pants to get it....their campaigns always look like so much fun.

Well, there I am, sitting on a plastic folding chair that is pinching my ass most fiercely and trying to maintain my composure because the boy that I was totally crushing on just happened to be sitting next to me.....all of a sudden the casting director comes out and starts doing the line-up of shame. She has us all stand up and points to each model with a "stay" or "no thank you". When she gets to me she asks me to let my hair down. Now, you gotta remember that at this time I was the Milanese hair job queen and my hair was short and impossible to style.....impossible for me, anyways, since I have zero talent when it comes to my hair and its upkeeping. I was famous for my tiny pigtails and that is what I would wear to manage my unruly coif....either that or a bandana/kerchief. So on this dastardly day, I happend to have my piggies in and when I took them out, my hair was tweaked out and well, just not cute. The casting director took one look at my unfortunate head and scoffed "Your hair is so ugly! You can go home!".

I felt a full body blush coming on at that point and with an Academy Award winning fake smile, I picked up my bag and walked out....all the while fighting back tears and the total shame of having been humiliated in front of way too many other models included Mr. Crush. Self-esteem is not something you gain from being a model. Nope.