You’re not listening to me.
When we started our conversation -a two-way dialogue, an interaction, if you must- not monologue, I stated I would only be available today. Heute. I had a marvelous time, but unfortunately, our relationship has come to an end. Our day in the sun has ended. It is no more.
My legs spoke ‘YES!!!!!’ before my brain, nay, heart could even react, as I have not been on a runway for so very, very long. I have been craving walking in a straight line -stopping- turning, and walking back, all the way. Opportunity came in the shape of a message on instagram (@dutchdoris), asking if I had time to walk. Of course my legs went ‘Yass! Gahdd! Let’s GO!’ but I still had to cross t’s, dot i’s, and of course ask my agency for permission. That’s polite, and professional.
Before I knew it I was on a ferry to Suomenlinna (Suomenlinna in summer – never a punishment), heels in tow, as well as my bike cos the bike goes where I go. It’s sort of inevitable. Just as inevitable as that my feet will be on that runway, soon.
The job was unpaid (I just assumed…), but there would be people there. Good heavens, people. Tell me about these people. A random crowd of Chinese tourists would have actually been encouraging (and they were on the boat, smiling merrily). Instead there were the types one usually sees gathering during fashion related events (and only then), even if the connection with fashion is somewhat loosely defined. Green hair, black baggy pants, shiny rectangles blocking their face. I was told an editor of Vogue Mexico was ‘there’.
Darling – you gave me a Norwegian phone number that it was impossible to hear you on, so I only assumed it was ok to get my face colour blocked. Hell of a paintjob. The ladies from the make-up station told me to just use regular soap, and scrub vigorously, as if you’re mad at your damn skin for holding on to that damn paint so damn bloody good. You’re kind of hovering around in a faux leather outfit that is so faux it makes my eyes hurt a little, and that is about that. You’re not doing much else. My fellow models, I find out not much later, have never set foot on a runway. They’re about 170, most shipped from Estonia, others dragged in from the street mere moments before I hauled my bike through the door.
Today was ok. It was fine taking a ferry to a nice place to walk around in a nice outfit with paint on my head. I took a beer from the fridge and drank it. The reason why I am not over the moon excited, is because today’s event is nothing special. We’ve wiped the dust from our shoes and moved on. It was not the painfully stylish event you painted it out to be. There were people, they stood, watched, left, and that’s all there is to say about them. I got a very nice picture sent, by a very nice photographer to whom I winked as I was quite happy to recognize a friendly face, albeit at the very end of the runway. That was unprofessional, and I apologized., even though the photographer mentioned it was a good thing because now he could at least name on of the ladies walking (paint..).
What truly gets to me is this: I mentioned I was available today. I mentioned I was available today. Today was my day off. Tomorrow is not my day off. Tomorrow I am selling stuff and getting yelled at, for a paycheck. Sunday: same thing. Working for a living is a necessary evil sometimes, and it is inconceivable to me these facts, matters that are simply, do not get through to you -SWEETIE DARLING. I may haul my bike on a ferry tomorrow, but it will be after I finish my dayjob. Remember? You probably won’t. You’ll call me tomorrow at eight wanting to know why I am not at the harbour. I’ll have to gather all of the patience in the universe, and will explain it to you again.