That is exactly what Brianna Moon, the lovely lady pictured, told me and 8 other models as we stood, crammed into a tiny stairwell in the dark, waiting to take the runway. It was dark, we were smelly, we were uncomfortably clad in itchy lace and tight corseted tops and stiff, spray painted heels. We were licking the poking the frosting on the cupcakes we each held: tasty props to illustrated the collection's title "Let Them Eat Cake."
Brianna is the mastermind and wizard behind the collection, and while I may be biased, I think her work was superb. She's a senior at our university in the Textile Merchandising and Design department. Her collection was presented at the annual Fashion Merchandising Society fashion show, of which I have attended every year. She created 10 beautifully ornate, dramatic, fun and charming looks, which really stood out against the sea of ill-fitting tube tops and halter dresses that other design students were showcasing.
So how did end up modeling a super short, pouffy black party dress, with a feather in my teased up hair and cradling a pink cupcake?
I don't really know. I am NO model, that's for sure. I am short, wide and curvy. I could be a proper model if I was stretched out vertically, about a foot in length. I am also rather... ahem... endowed in the chest, in a way that makes my body proportions perplexing. Needless to say, I'm not a one-size-fits-all kind of girl.
Brianna was just an acquaintance; I am friends with a good friend of hers', and we knew each other socially. Miss Moon is very sweet and devastatingly adorable to look at. JEALOUS.
Anyway, she, our mutual friend and I were out at a bar about a month ago, slipping into the depths of sloppiness when she grabbed me with her tiny hand and shouted over loud music "YOU SHOULD MODEL FOR ME." So I laughed and put my hands on my hips and did a little catwalk and said "HOW WAS THAT?" She laughed and then said "NO FOR MY FASHION SHOW." And I was like, hahah okay sure.
And then before I know it I'm in message threads on Facebook about fittings and rehearsals and shoe sizes. In my head I was like "eeeek I am actually going to be a model in a fashion show. Cool? Yeah cool! Really? Oh shit."
Finally, after some fittings, I was set to model that little strapless dress that barely (and I mean barely) covered my ass and, due to my chest size, made me look like a squat, round wad of lace. She was convinced it looked great, and while I was extremely doubtful, I couldn't really bring myself to care too much. It was for her, after all, and she was being graded during our performance so all I had to do was wear it, walk and not fuck it up.
Awkwardness set in once all the models were brought together for final fitting and rehearsals. I only knew two of the other 9 girls semi-well, both girlfriends of male friends I had, and I wasn't close with them. Those two girls are as nice as can be.
The other girls were in two cliques. The first is URI's coffeehouse gang of Brianna's friends. These girls were all sophomores and best best best friends; they were obsessed with each other. They compulsively complimented each other, giggled and hugged, jabbered about their coffeehouse drama and drew much attention to themselves. Not exactly pleasant.
The other clique was made up of three super tall, super skinny and super cool Providence hipster girls. They were all enviably pretty and unique looking, and so waif thin. They were dry, quiet and stayed away from the rest of us.
I was pretty damn uncomfortable around these chicks in the beginning, mostly because I was out of the loop but also because I felt so un-model-like next to them. I've never thought I was "thin," I was normal sized, and with the curves, a bit disproportionate considering my very short height. But, who cares. It was a student show and I had no illusions of being a real model.
By the end, we all became friends, which was unexpected and really nice. Some, more than others. Some of them are annoying but tolerable, some turned out to be much cooler than I had pegged them to be. It was supremely odd to be thrown into a batch of foreign girls, as we curled our hair and bitched about our waistlines. I have tons of girlfriends, and we are all so perfectly suited for each other: we're not too preoccupied with looks, we are dorky, we are aggressive, we make jokes constantly and we like to be rational, intelligent and pleasant. We trust each other and we care about each other. It was frazzling to see such juxtaposition, but I'm just complaining. It really went well.
Plus, we were all doing it for Brianna, who remained humble and grateful the entire time, who deserved every single compliment she garnered. We did two shows, and both were very fun for me. Even though I thought I looked like a gothic and chubby Jonbenet Ramsey, I didn't have a care in the world as I walked the ramp.
In the end, we had fun, and I did make some new friends. One of the girls tripped and fell on the last show, and it was hilarious. We all added each other on Facebook. Brianna won the audience favorite award. But I won the award for "Best Usage of Authentic Interaction With Intimidating Females in Order to Stop Being So Judgmental."
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