Dopey The Model

That's me on the far right pretending to be a model.

So last week I get a message from my friend Flo of Flopi Wear telling me she's having some last minute fashion show and would I be one of her models.  Now. I'm a teensy tiny short little thing with about zero experience walking a catwalk (unless you count strutting my hallway, but I don't think they do), so I don't get calls like this, oh, ever.  Uh, let me think, YES, yes I will.  About 10 seconds after I obligated myself I started freaking out about that whole lack of experience thing.

I've been around fashion by way of photo shoots and runway shows a tad more than the average Joe as I've had my hand at wardrobe styling.  This is actually where I met Flo.  After I set down my phone I figured she must be calling me to style the show or help out in some other backstage way and the word "model" was a total accident.  So I picked my phone right back up to double check.  Nope, no misunderstanding.

After closing all of my doors and windows I immediately switched on Hulu to marathon some America's Next Top Model and strut around my house.  Then I felt like a giant douche, told myself I could never do it, and resolved to let Flo down gently.

Over the next few days I beat myself up a bit for being such a chicken that I couldn't do something so many chicks (including myself) dream of doing.  Granted, this show was far from the tents of Mercedes Fashion Week...but there was still a runway, with a shit ton of strangers staring at me as I strut in heels portraying the confidence that I think I'm the bee's knees.  Folks who know me IRL know it is typically physically impossible to get me in front of a crowd.  I just won't do it.  Well, I guess I can eventually get up there but not before puking and everyone asking why that small chick is crying.  I'm awkward.  The point is, I didn't want to miss a chance to cross something off that bucket list (did I really just use that expression? Gross!) because I'm a pansy ass.

The fiance is a photographer and he was actually shooting the show, so we showed up together.  Resolved to let my pansy side win I plonked myself down backstage and told myself I wasn't moving all night.  That is, until Flo said "get over here and put this on" and I jumped up with excitement and started getting ready.  My resolve clearly isn't that strong.

Back when the fiance had a clothing line and would have fashion shows I always felt so left out not walking the stage.  I mean, I'm super short so I get it, but I'm also built like a hanger so I figured nepotism could take over and he could throw me in the show.  I styled and directed every one of his shows, though, and it would have been physically impossible to do both.  But I did always feel...lesser than?  Not pretty enough...?  Not cool enough...?  All of the above...?

On Saturday night the show was over super quick.  All in all it felt no different than doing a lap around a party, in all honesty.  It was so fast I didn't have time to get self conscious that People. Were. Looking. At. Me. OMG. I don't know what that says about my attitude while walking around parties...hmmm In the grand scheme I was floating Flo a solid by helping her out of a bind, and not the other way around.  But.  That shit totally boosted my confidence yo, I'm not gonna lie.  It was awesome and fun and radical.  And because I had to act too cool for school then (no smiles please. only pouts), I can finally relax and giggle and gush and be real now: Loved it!  Recommend it!