My Stint as a Model

An International Fashion Week is what you might expect in a city where the daytime dress code is formal and there are two channels dedicated to Fashion TV. It is surprising, therefore, that Pacific Style Week has only just begun this year. Every year VGUES (my university) hosts a small fashion show, but last year one student had the idea of making the event international. So welcome international fashion stars (Chapurin, Yudashkin, Vasiliev) and international models (Brazil, China, Korea... Canada)!

How I got involved:

One day after Russian class, my teacher asked me if I would like to be a model. I said no immediately, telling her I was too scared to have so many people watching me. In my mind I also considered that it was rather  vain to put oneself on a pedestal. But then I considered that I could improve my posture, and of course, there was a little part of me that had always secretly dreamed of trying it out. So I agreed.

We had practice every Monday for two hours; these were the most boring, and grueling, times of the whole process. Firstly, none of the models would talk to each other; everyone was too consumed with worrying about how they  looked. Understandably, it was a scary experience, and I felt it acutely: walk faster! longer steps! back straight! all being yelled at me in a foreign language. Well, frankly, I was walking like a robot.

Thankfully I decided I couldn't wait until showtime to give the thing my 100%. I found a hidden hallway above the track at the gym and started practicing walking back and forth, repeatedly. I practiced at home. I practiced on every 15m stretch of private walkway that I could find. Finally when I came back to practice I made my way confidently down the catwalk and halfway down my choreographer yelled out, "Excellent!" What an extremely satisfying moment. 

While originally I had been afraid of trying modelling for the fear of being vain, I realized then that what I had been really afraid of was trying to be beautiful and not succeeding. Getting up on the catwalk and having a lot strangers judge your every move forces you to confront, and eventually learn to love, everything you might hate about the way you look.

Of course, it wasn't all uphill. As only an "invited" model, I was restricted to being in one show. To top it off, at the closing ceremonies, the MC called all the models who had participated to the stage. So I went and took my place among the other girls, smiling and clapping as large gold confetti flew into the air. Suddenly, someone grabbed my arm and I was literally pulled off and told sternly that I shouldn't be there. Turns out this final show is only for "paying" models and I was only "invited."  So that marked the end of my modelling experience.

Later at the after-party at San Remo night club, I sat in a booth with some acquaintances and watched a live performance of "Tsigani," or, Russian gypsies. These invited some of the audience, including me, to come and dance with them. I then surprised my Russian friends by having a dance-off with one of the gypsies. Finally, if you take a look at the group photo of the evening, you can see me, the freeloader, sitting dead-centre beside Yudashkin's wife.  

What can I say about this whole experience except what is rather obvious: that it was a wonderful, unexpected, and enlightening, all an improvement to my self-confidence, self-respect, appearance, and sense of humour.   

This was the program for the day that I was participating.

 

Getting make-up done. They didn't have time to do my hair! To my horror.

Practicing on the real catwalk.

Show time! Thanks to the 20 ppl in the audience.

Getting to the end of the catwalk!

One of the big designer's shows: here we have Chapurin who came down from Moscow.

At the Pygmalion competition for young designers. Here the models are wearing dresses made exclusively out of balloons!

The aforementioned gold confetti.

Wearing my "model" tag that let me get in for free to all of the shows (and the after-party!)

Tsigani have been invited to Russian parties for hundreds of years.

Me sitting dead-centre beside Yudashkin's wife.

Bumping into a Russian celebrity as we leave the club. This is the guy from "Extra-Sense," I still don't really understand but the two people I was with were freaking out.