Fun & Famous
Why Kiki will never become a model
This week, your Amayzine editors pulled out their prettiest shoes and their most beautiful outfits for a very important higher purpose of life: new profile pictures.
And to be a reasonable newbie and say it straight: I will never become a model.
Now I'm not even talking about my typical Dutch calves and, uh, not-Doutzen Kroes figure. By the way, I'm more than satisfied with that (you know which side I choose in the battle of Fitgirls vs. Fatgirls, give me that cheesecake man, I have a life too). It's not about my 1 meter 62, because I wear my 12-centimeter Acne pumps for that and hello Jumbo, then this dwarf can take on the world. So what is lacking? My posing skills. Goddamn, that is just incredibly difficult.
“Now I'm not even talking about my typical Dutch calves and, uh, not-Doutzen Kroes figure”
May, Jet, Joss, and I all met one afternoon with our most lovely photographer Vivian, who would capture us at our best, and last Wednesday it was my turn. The location? A cool suite in Hotel Pulitzer in Amsterdam. The night before I pack a suitcase with all the stuff I care about. When there are only 12 pairs of shoes and a laptop in it, I feel like something is going wrong. I make a panicked attempt to go to sleep somewhat on time – it’s now half past 2 at night – and throw my entire wardrobe into two suitcases.
The next morning I wake up with a GI-GAN-TIC pimple on my chin. I swear, the removed mole of Enrique Iglesias is nothing compared to this. Dammit. I am blessed with a fairly smooth Indo skin, but while I rub the night out of my mini eyes and look in the mirror, I see a throbbing monster of crater-like size. On such days, I want a burka. Vivian assures me that it’s really not that bad with The Swelling and that she can always photoshop it away, but in the meantime, I only hear my sister's voice in my head that used to tease me with this sentence when I had a pimple:
“Spatter pieter pater, Kiki has a crater…”
Well, crater or not, I’m going to shoot those looks. I put on my most model-like gaze, swirl around with some skirts, do a few serious looks (which fail miserably, I look like a platypus), then burst into laughter four times, then my upper arm looks worse than The Swelling in the photo, then cars pass by, then my bangs fly ugly in the wind, then I feel a bit awkward in a full hotel lobby while people look at me, then I change clothes for the trillionth time, then I get hungry and crave a cigarette. And this little routine plays out about six times...
PEOPLE, I am going to never underestimate the life of a model, what a top sport. Anyway, in the coming weeks you will surely see a number of new pictures coming by. Without a crater, okay, you get that. This week, your Amayzine editors pulled out their prettiest shoes and their most beautiful outfits for a very important higher purpose of life: new...
