Kim Feenstra is in town. Everyone can see that we’re dealing with something very special here. She causes a stir while jogging through Central Park with everyone turning around to look at her even if they don’t know who she is. How do I know? Ehm, Anouk told me. She runs everyday to achieve those rosy cheeks that not even orgasm-blush can beat.

I notice Kim on our inner courtyard. Me with a bag of clean laundry in my hand (I do have my friendly moments and had done washing for Fred and our executive producer Riena), she cooling down from her jog. No sign of make-up,  the most gorgeous skin tone ever and those eyes that mesmerise. A model at her best.

I had a DKNY dress with a high va-va-voom factor hanging ready in my cupboard for the evening. It sweeps the ground, has an extremely low cut back and the straps are made from fishing-line so it looks strapless without side effects. Yes I’m talking about those above the breast rolls. Not a pretty sight. We’re getting close to the semi finals now and I have drop-dead gorgeous Feenstra at my side so all breaks are off as far as outer appearance is concerned.

As I walk into to the temporary make-up room I don’t see my trusted Claudia anywhere. No mirror either, which turns out to be a dangerous thing later on. Instead a Japanese guy standing there that doesn’t speak any English, who explains with hands and feet that he has only been living here for the past two months. He says something like “language very bad but make-up very good.” I give myself over to his amicable person and feel him let loose with a curling iron and hairspray. I start getting edgy as he ties a wide gold ring into the final few pieces of hair. Then when the glitter eyeshadow comes out, I frown. And then Lienke our producer walks in and she tells me that the taxi is waiting, now I’m feeling uncomfortable. But as soon as I lift the mirror to my face, I’m totally stressed. Panic. Fear. Can’t believe how ugly I look. The idea that I’m going to be sitting next to Anouk and Kim Feenstra is something I don’t even want to think about. But that doesn’t work.

So much time has been wasted and now we have to leave for Brooklyn. Ugly make-up or not. The first thing I do as I step into the bus is beg a make over from Sandrine, Anouk’s make-up artist but we have an emergency situation. Sandrine does not have all her make-up with her (because Anouk is all ready to go and only needs touch ups) but she reassures me that everything will be okay.

I’m practising some controlled breathing when Kim asks (yes, it’s a star studded bus that I climbed into) what I thought was wrong with the make-up. Do you have a moment? The hair, the golden clip, the glitter eyeshadow, the shiny foundation…But why do you want to know? “He did the same to me” she says. He wouldn’t stop. I didn’t want any lipstick but he could not understand me and kept applying it. I thought he was a cool guy so let him keep applying stuff. Then I went back to my hotel room and washed everything off and re-applied it myself”.

And that is Kim’s secret weapon. Being a top model who is sure of herself on the outside and on the inside.