Modeling isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.

This is a short story about a girl that leads two different lives.

  Modeling isn't what it’s cracked up to be.

 I got a document in the mail that stated I was selected to audition for a modeling school. I presented my mother the document and she thought it might be good for me to be a part of something that could help me enhance myself. When I strolled into the ball room of the hotel, I thought it was going to be informal, until I saw cameras blinking, people in dresses, and fake smiles, no one was dressed like me. That’s when it hit me, I would be living two different lives from what I know now and the harsh fashion world I would be putting myself into.

  It was the summer of 2009, everyone was trying to escape the Texas heat with shorts and umbrellas, while I wore jeans and a big t-shirt. I went to Denver Jr. High at the time, life was unpretentious then, I had my basic group of friends, with my simple classes and my ordinary teachers. The bell rang, restless to get home in better air conditioning, I sprinted down the hall way out the school doors to catch bus number 58. On the way home the temperature seemed to get to everyone, trees were melting, stop signs were dripping, cars over heated, Texas never seemed to give us a break.

   I got home to an aroma I couldn’t mistake, mother had cooked chicken and dumplings. The chicken had the smell of lemon, the vegetables a sweet sense of warmth, and the dumplings hand made in flour just right. Before I could ask about dinner, mother told me I had mail. Interested to what it might be I put my book bag in my room and sat down to recite it. “From Barbizon USA” I whispered in a questionable voice.  Little did I know I was holding etiquette, discipline, sisterhood, all in my hands.  I freed the seal that was gold and indicated “Your future”, neatly fashioned, to find a letter;

“Barbizon Modeling School of Acting USA,

     Stacy Bern, you are requested to audition to enroll for this year’s Barbizon modeling school”.

 It went on to say the location of the audition, time and what to wear.  I was confused as to why they would pick me, a shy unfashionable girl from a small town outside of Houston. “Why not try it out” mother roared from the living room. I thought to myself, I guess trying something outside of the school won’t hurt. I placed the letter on the living room table and wrote the date of the audition on the family calendar. Another conventional day went by at school, my teachers still had the same monotone speeches and classes went by sluggish.

  Around Halloween in 2009, the audition was held at The Marriott Hotel at six o’clock, I strolled in not knowing what to expect, I wasn’t dressed like any of the other girls, and I felt singled out. They were wearing long formal dresses with heels, and I was wearing jeans and a nice blouse. The line for signing in was out the door, it took 30 minutes to get to the stand, a woman with bleach blonde hair and stiletto heels took my name and told me to sit down at seat 14. I observed around me at the other contestants, some just as panicky as I was, and some had the persona that they have done this for years. I could overhear mothers whisper “you’re going to do great, just like last time”. I looked at my mother for support but she was just as clueless as I was.

   Eight o’clock came around, “Seat 14” bellowed a man at the front of the ball room. The walk from my seat to the man seemed never-ending. When I stepped on the stage I felt all eyes on me, I could feel the mothers snicker over my ripped jeans, and my un ironed shirt. Then the man declared “Name, number and age”, I rapidly responded, “Stacy Barn, 14, 15 years old”, they observed at me a total of two minutes, then said I had the girl next door look. I didn’t know what that meant but I assumed it was a good remark. The man then told me to take an envelope from the woman to his right and leave.   

   Mother and I left with the envelope in hand. I was thinking to myself “was that it, no talking or questions?” Half way home, I read the note “You are now enrolled in Barbizon USA Modeling School of Acting”. Ecstatic to know I had made the cut as they say, I was told again where my first classes would be and what times. The classes were once a month for 9 months.  

    Summer of 2010, I was in my eighth month of  Barbizon and it taught me etiquette, runway, and many life skills, I made friends my age and set goals for myself, but trying to keep up with Modeling and school gave me a challenge. When I didn’t have homework for school, Barbizon wanted me to do a job at local malls promoting how great they are or advertising a new look. At school I wore all black baggy clothes and messy hair usually, the next I wore five inch heels with skin tight dresses, I was beginning to see I might be living a double life I continue with modeling as my career.

   Everything was going great for me, until my friends started seeing a transformation. They rumored I was acting snobbish and rude. I couldn’t comprehend the rumors because I was acting the same way I always had. I might have dressed in my heels one day or wore a dress, but I was never rude to anyone. I went home that night thinking about any alterations in my conduct or appearance. I glanced at a picture of me the year prior and the mirror. I had changed; I wore extra makeup, lost weight, and even developed an uncaring ego along with it.  

   My life as a small town girl was clashing with my modeling life, I was living two different lives. That’s when I knew I had to take a stand, so I put modeling to the side for a while and focused on my school more and regained friendships, someday I will miss it, but for now, I’m just going to be me.

Author's Note

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Reviews

[alexia dumas]

The dislouge was realistic, thoigh I would want a bit more detail.I can see a future in this, is it beong continued?