Early Tuesday morning. Anouk, Dirk and I had arrived in New York the evening before. Sitting in the taxi, we agree that anytime someone sings New York from Alicia Keys, they have to put a dollar in the pot. I can tell you now, it’s adding up because when you’re in New York that song just springs to mind.

 A Camera man for Tommy please

I woke early. An interview with Tommy Hilfiger for RTL Boulevard is on the agenda and I still need a camera-man. As I leave our hotel in Midtown it seems that everyone is already on a roll. Colleague-jury member Dirk Kikstra is photographing Morgan Saylor from Homeland. Just outside our door. Like it’s nothing.

 here comes the jet lag

Fred, Anouk and executive producer Femke are sitting on a bench, a bench that will take on legendary proportions during the series. They’re going over the day ahead. Tonight a very important shoot is planned. Dirk is going to photograph all the girls on Times Square. We need to wait till it’s dark for the best light effect. And we’re suffering from jet lag…

 Laptop, green juice, skyscraper

As the day draws to a close, everyone seems to have gathered on the inner courtyard of our hotel. A terrace surrounded by intense skyscrapers. Not idyllic, but very city and I happen to love that. Laptop on the table, a green juice on its way.

 Shoot on Times Square

Evening falls and Anouk and I walk over to Times Square. At the risk of sounding like a real New York snob, this is a place that I usually prefer to avoid. Tourists paradise. But hey, to be here, late evening between hundreds of people to do a photo-shoot is fab. Anouk points out the screen that she once appeared on life size in a tiny bikini, Times Square feels so big. I feel so small.

 Our girls on Times Square

The models arrive one by one. Times Square is their catwalk. You could do worse as a model. The challenge is to find extras for their own shoot. And in a hurry because we don’t have all night. Dirk runs back and forth and jumps all over the place, so much so that his shoe soles are totally destroyed the next day. Anouk and I melt into the tourist crowd, take photos and feel proud.

 What is 34 divided by 6?

By the time everyone has been seen and snapped, we are dying for drink. Midtown is not exactly the neighbourhood for the best bars but it’s late and we’re thirsty and excited from the entire shebang, so the Irish pub in our street is just fine. Marc our reporter and I order a bottle of wine to share. The stories-that-may-not-be-shared start flowing. What happens in New York stays in New York but I can tell you that the tears from too much laughing fell on that dusty bar floor. When the bottle is finished we debate whether to go for another glass or order another bottle, which is usually cheaper in New York. A glass is 9 dollars, a bottle 34. You get 6 glasses from a bottle. Anouk and I look at each other and at the exact same moment say: “what is 34 divided by 6?” And stare at each other for a further 3 minutes hoping that the other will answer. Fresh is not an adjective that would have been used to describe us.

 The flesh is weak

Because the flesh is weak, and our maths skills are not so great anymore, we go for the bottle. And more stories follow. And tears. Jet lag? Nothing at all. When we finally roll into the hotel lobby at 2am, a charming man greets us. “Anouk Voorveld? Is that really you?”

Anouk stands tall. It’s talent scout Michael Sanka, one of the people who was by her side during her successful modelling days, and not coincidentally, our guest jury person for the elimination the next day. We chat politely and then really, really head to bed.

 Remember me?

The next day in our studio in Redhook Brooklyn, I stretch my hand out to Michael. “I’m May. We met last night.” “Yes I remember you dear May” he answers. “But I am so surprised that you still remember me.” Oof. Swallow.

It was one of the best elimination rounds ever.