I just realized I haven't posted here in some weeks....dealing with some pretty bad teething by part of my baby girl (which has meant absolutely NO sleep for me) and also writing several articles for a couple of online fashion mags....anyways, busy busy busy.....
But I'll be back this week with more memoirs.....stay tuned!
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Five Models in One Big Bed
Before I go on with the great adventures, bookings and happenings in general that occured during this particular season in Miami, I must first describe to you the apartment that we were gonna call home for the next four months.
The month before we all converged on South Beach, I managed to track down a somewhat verklempt Long Island expat that was working as a realtor in Miami Beach. She secured a one bedroom in the Decoplage for me at a very decent rate and the keys were to be held at the concierge's desk to await our arrival. She insisted that the unit had two queen sized beds in the bedroom and two sleeper sofas in the living room. This would be perfect for the 5 of us, being models we were used to living like sardines in a can. Great, no sweat, that was easy.
When we got to SoBe and entered our apartment we were pleasantly surprised at how clean, airy and large it was for a one bedroom. We had a balcony with a great view of the beach and ocean and it was furnished with everything we would need....but upon closer inspection we discovered that the two "sleeper sofas" were actually minuscule love seats and the queen beds in the bedroom were actually full sized.
Now, this normally wouldn't be a problem, except for the fact that we were co-eding this cohabitation and since all relationships were to that point completely platonic this was proving to be kinda awkward. And since we were all taller than the national average, sleeping on a love seat was just not gonna happen unless we wanted our legs dangling perilously over the armrests. So what did we do? What any self-possesed group of young pretty people would do....we pushed the two fulls together in the bedroom and somehow voted one of us to be the poor bastard left sleeping in the crack (one bed was slightly higher than the other so this made the crack all the more comfortable...ha!).
Our first night there we arrived home after romping with celebs with beverages in hand and all five of us, two boys and three girls, dropped onto that makeshift raft of a bed and promptly passed out. No orgy ensued, nothing like that at all. Innocent and sweet we were. I know this sounds like fodder for some porn extravaganza but it truly was not.
I must point out that when there are FIVE of you in this type of sleeping accomodation being thin and/or attractive in no way means you have more room or are more comfortable. With five peeps in one bed you are gonna inadvertently end up listening to someone's nose whistle, snoring, or mumbling all night long.....or get rudely woken from a deep slumber by your bedmates RLS, flatulence or pool of drool that has somehow waterfalled off of their pillow and started lagooning right next to your face. But I must admit, all things considered, this would be the first and last time I would share a bed with 4 such gorgeous people at the same time.
The month before we all converged on South Beach, I managed to track down a somewhat verklempt Long Island expat that was working as a realtor in Miami Beach. She secured a one bedroom in the Decoplage for me at a very decent rate and the keys were to be held at the concierge's desk to await our arrival. She insisted that the unit had two queen sized beds in the bedroom and two sleeper sofas in the living room. This would be perfect for the 5 of us, being models we were used to living like sardines in a can. Great, no sweat, that was easy.
When we got to SoBe and entered our apartment we were pleasantly surprised at how clean, airy and large it was for a one bedroom. We had a balcony with a great view of the beach and ocean and it was furnished with everything we would need....but upon closer inspection we discovered that the two "sleeper sofas" were actually minuscule love seats and the queen beds in the bedroom were actually full sized.
Now, this normally wouldn't be a problem, except for the fact that we were co-eding this cohabitation and since all relationships were to that point completely platonic this was proving to be kinda awkward. And since we were all taller than the national average, sleeping on a love seat was just not gonna happen unless we wanted our legs dangling perilously over the armrests. So what did we do? What any self-possesed group of young pretty people would do....we pushed the two fulls together in the bedroom and somehow voted one of us to be the poor bastard left sleeping in the crack (one bed was slightly higher than the other so this made the crack all the more comfortable...ha!).
Our first night there we arrived home after romping with celebs with beverages in hand and all five of us, two boys and three girls, dropped onto that makeshift raft of a bed and promptly passed out. No orgy ensued, nothing like that at all. Innocent and sweet we were. I know this sounds like fodder for some porn extravaganza but it truly was not.
I must point out that when there are FIVE of you in this type of sleeping accomodation being thin and/or attractive in no way means you have more room or are more comfortable. With five peeps in one bed you are gonna inadvertently end up listening to someone's nose whistle, snoring, or mumbling all night long.....or get rudely woken from a deep slumber by your bedmates RLS, flatulence or pool of drool that has somehow waterfalled off of their pillow and started lagooning right next to your face. But I must admit, all things considered, this would be the first and last time I would share a bed with 4 such gorgeous people at the same time.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
They Like Booty in South Beach
So, my ass was too Cuban for Tokyo, I went back to Portland where I shot an Intel commercial and a campaign for Brooks running shoes, packed my bags, got on a plane with Amber, got fed processed meat sticks, felt my eyes sting and water from the violently explosive flatulence of the guy sitting in the row in front of ours, arrived in Miami where booty is appreciated, had Jean-Paul meet us curbside, drove to our apartment at the Decoplage, met up with Ned, Paul and Kari...this was a very "Real World" a la MTV moment....and so Season Two in South Beach had begun.
That night we fought off all vestiges of tiredness and managed to go out. We partied with Rupert Everett at Touch, and kicked it at 320 with Rod Stewart, Sting, and one of us managed to drop a glass of alchohol on the floor (I think it was a gin & tonic) breaking it and splashing Kid Rock as he was exiting the building.
Yeah, once upon a time this was my life......
That night we fought off all vestiges of tiredness and managed to go out. We partied with Rupert Everett at Touch, and kicked it at 320 with Rod Stewart, Sting, and one of us managed to drop a glass of alchohol on the floor (I think it was a gin & tonic) breaking it and splashing Kid Rock as he was exiting the building.
Yeah, once upon a time this was my life......
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
More on Tokyo and the Pity Party that Ensued
Ah, yes....nothing like a little body image dilemma when you're a model......words from my travel journal (aka an invitation to my pity party)...
8/27
Sitting in Narita. This is all so fucking surreal. I have spent 7 days in Tokyo and now I am going back home. Total mind fuck. I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. I had a great time with Debbie and Michelle yesterday. We walked the grounds of the Imperial Palace, rode the subways, got lost, went shopping at Harajaku and partied at Gas Panic and Lexington Queen with two of the boys from N'SYNC, experienced a minor earthquake this morning and now my trip is over. Whirlwind? I'm going home.
I really like Tokyo. It's a pristine city, beautiful in its modernity, full of brilliant and positive energy. The people are so nice. I'm glad I got to come even if for such a short amount of time. I just wish I could've stayed longer, to experience this place if nothing else. I amstill angry, sad, shocked about getting sent home without being given any benefit of the doubt. I feel insulted and hurt and cand see a serious body and food image issue starting to form in my psyche.
As soon as I found out I was leaving I binged on crazy amounts of food both healthy and not. And now I feel disgusting and fat. I'm paranoid to go to Q6 when I get back and have them think of me as fat and gross. I don't want to end up with some sick obsession. Why the hell did this happen?
8/27
Sitting in Narita. This is all so fucking surreal. I have spent 7 days in Tokyo and now I am going back home. Total mind fuck. I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. I had a great time with Debbie and Michelle yesterday. We walked the grounds of the Imperial Palace, rode the subways, got lost, went shopping at Harajaku and partied at Gas Panic and Lexington Queen with two of the boys from N'SYNC, experienced a minor earthquake this morning and now my trip is over. Whirlwind? I'm going home.
I really like Tokyo. It's a pristine city, beautiful in its modernity, full of brilliant and positive energy. The people are so nice. I'm glad I got to come even if for such a short amount of time. I just wish I could've stayed longer, to experience this place if nothing else. I amstill angry, sad, shocked about getting sent home without being given any benefit of the doubt. I feel insulted and hurt and cand see a serious body and food image issue starting to form in my psyche.
As soon as I found out I was leaving I binged on crazy amounts of food both healthy and not. And now I feel disgusting and fat. I'm paranoid to go to Q6 when I get back and have them think of me as fat and gross. I don't want to end up with some sick obsession. Why the hell did this happen?
Friday, August 10, 2007
Tokyo & My Big Cuban Ass
My summer in Portland ended, I packed my bags, kissed my cats good-bye and headed back to the Land of the Rising Sun. I was high with wanderlust and ready to get on with my traveling....maybe a little too high. I got to Tokyo, fell in love with the city instantly, moved into my little high rise apartment with an incredible view of Roppongi, and met my roommate, yet another sweet as sugar Canadian girl. What could possibly go wrong? Well....let my journal entry answer that question for ya...
8/25
I am going home on Sunday. I was told by the agency that I am "too fat" to work in Tokyo. What the fuck? Me, fat. That's a first. I just wish I could've laughed when my booker measured my ass and told me that I had "too many butts". Yeah, I have an ass and they want me to remove it? My booker took me out for a drink to break the news to me. He said that I would never work in Tokyo unless I could lose 2 inches on my butt and hips in one week. I was reeling. I measured in at 34.5 inches. Totally normal, totally regulation measurement for the biz. I could lose half an inch easy......but TWO? In ONE week? So I'm going home. Oh my God. I haven't had 33 inch hips since before I hit puberty. Oh my God.
I didn't sleep last night, having been in total shock. So much bullshit and I lost a really good booking at home to be here. But I have to look at the bright side of this. I got a free side trip to Tokyo. Now I can say I've been here. Tomorrow I'll explore the city and then I'll go home.
This is why girls go anorexic. Now I know.
***************
That night I did what any good little model would do.......I went to Gas Panic and Lexington Queen and drank my huge Cuban ass off and got to watch Justin Timberlake making out with three rather young Brazilian models in the VIP of Lex. Arigato my friends......
8/25
I am going home on Sunday. I was told by the agency that I am "too fat" to work in Tokyo. What the fuck? Me, fat. That's a first. I just wish I could've laughed when my booker measured my ass and told me that I had "too many butts". Yeah, I have an ass and they want me to remove it? My booker took me out for a drink to break the news to me. He said that I would never work in Tokyo unless I could lose 2 inches on my butt and hips in one week. I was reeling. I measured in at 34.5 inches. Totally normal, totally regulation measurement for the biz. I could lose half an inch easy......but TWO? In ONE week? So I'm going home. Oh my God. I haven't had 33 inch hips since before I hit puberty. Oh my God.
I didn't sleep last night, having been in total shock. So much bullshit and I lost a really good booking at home to be here. But I have to look at the bright side of this. I got a free side trip to Tokyo. Now I can say I've been here. Tomorrow I'll explore the city and then I'll go home.
This is why girls go anorexic. Now I know.
***************
That night I did what any good little model would do.......I went to Gas Panic and Lexington Queen and drank my huge Cuban ass off and got to watch Justin Timberlake making out with three rather young Brazilian models in the VIP of Lex. Arigato my friends......
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Of Hiking in the Moonlight & Crushing on Fashion Editors...
I have to say that the best job I've shot in Portland (fashion-wise) was for Ministry Magazine out of London that summer. The photographer happened to have grown up in Oregon and wanted to shoot a story up on Mt. Hood. I booked the job and this is how it went:
8/14
I worked Friday & Saturday with an amazing team. Finally, a real editorial shoot in Portland. We shot in the wilderness of Mt. Hood and the Columbia Gorge. Truly stunning. On Friday we finished so late that we ended up hiking down the mountain by the light of the moon. It was both terrifying and beautiful. The fashion editor of the magazine is only 22 and hilarious. He drove out to location with me in my car and had me in stitches the entire time. At one point we pulled over so that he could take a picture of a morbidly obese family to show his co-workers in London what an "American family" really looks like. He wants me to come to London.....I think I'm smitten.
(and then for some reason I tacked this quote to the end of the entry...)
"Close your eyes, that is the difference. Sometimes you can't believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel."
A shot from the editorial (yes, those were Burberry stilettos and everyone was freaking out that they would get wet in the stream...all this as I attempted to look like a fabulous wood nymph while balancing on 3 inch heels on a slippery, lichen covered rock. I love fashion.)
8/14
I worked Friday & Saturday with an amazing team. Finally, a real editorial shoot in Portland. We shot in the wilderness of Mt. Hood and the Columbia Gorge. Truly stunning. On Friday we finished so late that we ended up hiking down the mountain by the light of the moon. It was both terrifying and beautiful. The fashion editor of the magazine is only 22 and hilarious. He drove out to location with me in my car and had me in stitches the entire time. At one point we pulled over so that he could take a picture of a morbidly obese family to show his co-workers in London what an "American family" really looks like. He wants me to come to London.....I think I'm smitten.
(and then for some reason I tacked this quote to the end of the entry...)
"Close your eyes, that is the difference. Sometimes you can't believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel."
A shot from the editorial (yes, those were Burberry stilettos and everyone was freaking out that they would get wet in the stream...all this as I attempted to look like a fabulous wood nymph while balancing on 3 inch heels on a slippery, lichen covered rock. I love fashion.)
Saturday, July 28, 2007
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
Seattle Bride beauty editorial:
Evolition Hair Design campaign (aka the Cracked Out Geisha shoot)
Hiroshi shoot
experimental Portland test
Thursday, July 19, 2007
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!
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!
Monday, July 16, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
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!
;-)
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!
;-)
Sunday, July 08, 2007
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!
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!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
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!
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!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
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!
Till then!
Saturday, May 26, 2007
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!
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!
Thursday, May 24, 2007
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.....
--------
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.
--------
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.
--------
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.
--------
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.
--------
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?
-------
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!
-------
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.
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.....
--------
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.
--------
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.
--------
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.
--------
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.
--------
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?
-------
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!
-------
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.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
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.
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.
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