Diary of a model

After a long day of shooting, I flew back to London yesterday. Once landed at Heathrow, I needed about eighty minutes to get home. Eventually, I lay exhausted in bed at 00:30. Since I'm not good at getting up, I set an alarm for 5:45, 5:50, and 5:55. Fresh and fruity (not), I got up this morning. I quickly washed the leftover hairspray out of my hair and prepared a breakfast. I never leave the house without breakfast because you never know how the catering on set will be (stay tuned for the ‘what a model really eats in a day’). Anyway, at 6:45, I stepped out the door and walked to the underground. I'm lucky that I get to shoot on the other side of London, so I have a travel time of an hour and 15 minutes ahead (read: extra nap time and waking up with my lenses glued to my eyes).

Google Maps leads me to a crappy industrial area. I can hear you thinking: but models always shoot on tropical beaches, right? Well... no! Today I'm shooting in a studio where the air conditioning is a door that's ajar (hooray for summer temperatures) and the set is a large roll of paper. Luckily, I had breakfast because the catering on set is water and orange juice. With a glass of water, I wait to see what will happen today. The designer is calmly steaming the dresses we are shooting today, and I chat a bit with her assistant. After half an hour, the makeup artist still isn't there, so they start asking around where she is. With a red face, the assistant comes back with the news that the makeup artist isn't booked. They will arrange a new one, but she won't be there for another hour and a half. Great! Next to us, there is also a shoot happening. The makeup artist there is asked if she can quickly do something to my makeup-less face. (the sooner, the better, because otherwise, the other shoot will be delayed). She blow-dries half of my hair, puts some mascara on my eyes, and contour on my cheeks, and voilà. The designer thinks it looks ugly (I do too, because I look just like an Oompa Loompa), but well, there’s a rack full of dresses, so we just start.

I put on the first dress, and then the designer comes towards me in towering heels. ‘Yes, I heard you wear size 39, but I could only find this in 38. You fit it, right?’ This is going to be fun because I wear size 40. With some pushing and pulling, I fit the glass slipper of the prince just as well as Cinderella's stepsisters. Prediction for today: blue toes, blisters, and (in this heat) a chance of fainting. The photographer is a 22-year-old kid who presses a button and after each shot emotionlessly shouts: ‘Amazing, that’s the one, great, love this, yes amazing, lovely.’ I've never experienced anything like this and try not to get annoyed, but this is going to be a very long day. So I end up shooting long dresses in too-small heels from 9:00 to 15:00 non-stop. Due to the heat and irritation over the photographer, I start sweating, and the makeup artist has to keep powdering my face. Without food, I will definitely faint, so sushi is ordered. We take a half-hour break for lunch because we have so much to do that we actually don't have time to eat.

I always try to be fun on set to make it a pleasant day, but today I can't manage it and mainly focus on the ice-water foot bath that I'm going to make for myself at home.

Today I'm literally playing a living mannequin without brains.

At 18:00, I think the end is in sight, but another clothing rack comes in, and the designer asks if I could stay a bit longer. She also emails this to my agency, she says, and she will pay for overtime. With the most forced smile, I say that of course, that's no problem and push through a bit longer. Eventually, we only finish at 21:00. I'm exhausted and can't wait to dive into my bed, but I still have to make the long trip back east. On the underground, I email my agent to let her know that we've gone three hours longer. The designer had already reported that, but just to be sure, I let her know too. I get a surprised email back from my agent. She didn't know anything and will follow up on it. My trust in the goodness of fashion people is getting another small crack. Luckily, I have the sweetest roommate ever. She made food for me, and there's also a foot bath ready. The crack is fixed with some duct tape (‘cause it can fix everything) and the wonderful cooking skills of my roomie.

xx Kisses from Lily