Here’s an excerpt from my book. How not to be a supermodelThis is from the chapter about model casting and the physical and athletic abilities I lied about to get a job. For example, can you play the drums? Of course.
Was I a professional level ice skater? yes:
Those were necessary little lies, by the way, because I had virtually no physical skills whatsoever — I couldn’t jet ski, surf, ride a horse, or even swim underwater — and I would have lost half my job prospects if I hadn’t chosen the “fake it till you make it” route.
This chapter puts me in a compromising yet strangely Zen position, completely losing whatever shred of dignity I thought I had.
So, without further ado, here is an excerpt (summary): How not to be a supermodel.
When it came to casting models, I was willing to do anything for the big payday. There were a lot of skills in high demand, but they were usually skills I didn’t have. Apparently, it didn’t matter.
“Hey,” says my agent, Texana, “can you ski? This is a Breitling watch job, so you have to be able to slalom down the line into the shot.”
“I’ve never skied,” I said. “No.”
‘Never?’
‘no.’
“Hey, anyone can ski. Just say you skied as a kid.”
“Okay, but if I get the job, will I actually have to ski?”
“We’ll deal with it when it happens.”
or
“Hey darling,” my other agent says, “can you drive a scooter?… sure, but what if?”
The worst “athlete” casting I’ve ever done was for a newly launched women’s sportswear brand and their line of yoga wear, and this one was entirely my fault.
“Hey, are you doing yoga?” Texana asked when I called to confirm my appointment for the next day.
“No, but your mother will tell you.”
There was silence.
“Okay, baby, but… you Do you do yoga? But you have to do a series of poses for this casting, so you need to know the terminology.”
“Yes, I can do that position,” I said. “Straighten your torso, cross your legs, and I think you can still do a handstand.”
“Well,” Texana said, “I’m just… worried that the commercial beer situation will repeat itself.”
“Where did you get your Karate Kid moves?”
“Oh my God, baby, what is this? She said it looked like she was watching someone take LSD and try to fight themselves in a hall of mirrors.”
“Hmm,” I said, “I’ll try practicing some yoga poses then.”
“A pose, baby,” Texana said. “That’s what we call a pose.”
“Don’t be afraid,” I said, “I’m getting ready now. I’m going to take on the warrior dog and the downward spiral.”
The yoga casting took place in a dance studio. It was very bright, with sunlight streaming in through two large windows and reflecting off the mirrors on the wall and onto the wooden floor. Three friendly women in their 30s and 40s were sitting behind a table stacked with modeling portfolios. They were very demure, their hair tied loosely in ballerina buns or cascading over their shoulders, and all of them were wearing clothes in soft fabrics and soft colors that looked like they’d been stolen from an 18th-century vampire.
“Hi Ruth, it’s great to meet you,” said my first customer. “We’ve always wanted to feature you in a campaign, so it’s fantastic that this yoga assortment is a perfect fit. You have exactly the style we were looking for.”
“Let’s start with warrior pose,” said the second customer as the spa music turned on.
Warrior pose? That’s amazing. Look at me in leggings and a crop top and you’re not happy with that? I wish someone would shape my legs and arms on photo day.
“What’s important to us is that whoever we hire is someone who really practices yoga,” said a third customer.
oh.
“We really want our campaigns to feel authentic and for the images to resonate with our customers. We’re not just a brand that uses models who look good in our clothes, we’re a brand that uses models who actually wear our clothes. We want real female athletes, athletes, mountain climbers and even, hopefully, you, an experienced yoga instructor.”
Wait. What?
“Yogi?”
“Let’s take a look at the samples,” said the second customer. “I can’t wait for you to try on my taupe harem pants.”
In warrior pose, I pretended to hold a spear in one hand and the other on my hip. To be fair, I wasn’t too far off the mark; my legs were powerfully spread apart and it actually looked relatively authentic. The forward bend needed no explanation and, miraculously, I knew the bridge. When other poses, with more abstract names, came along, it really became a challenge. Who would have thought that “Mountain Pose” was about “standing up straight”? What mountain isn’t tall and skinny and big and round like a rock? Obviously that makes more sense. It perfectly explains why you think you should hug your knees, tuck your head between your legs and turn yourself into a big ball…
“Okay,” said the second client, with just a hint of confusion in her voice, “Let’s move into Downward Dog.”
I mean, how do dogs look down? Since dogs walk on all fours, aren’t they already looking down most of the time?
“This is pretty close to Cow Pose,” one of my clients said, “but with all four legs straight. You’ve probably never seen a pose like this before, but okay. Now let’s move on to Child’s Pose.”
Oh well. Even under such intense pressure, my mind kept churning out idea after idea. God bless me. Sensing extreme career jeopardy, I rose to the occasion, offering pose-solutions to every prompt with only a second or two of hesitation. It was like I was playing a weird version of Charades. MastermindIn it, the presenter read out words randomly and you had to guess which action was likely (with a 1 in 1000 chance) to be the correct match.
My mind and body have never had to work so hard together, and now, after Cow Pose, Downward Facing Dog, Mountain Pose, and Boat Pose (where I was able to use my arms like oars, which I was quite pleased with), and (One leg as mast) Finally, I tried one more thing: child’s pose.
“Do you need any help?” asked the third client. I was standing quietly on my mat, eyes closed, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. I was biding my time.
“No,” I said, with my eyes closed and my hands over my ears, because that felt right. “I’m okay, thank you. I’m just going to do some breathing exercises before we move on to the next position.”
What poses did the kids do? There was the fetal position, which was my least favorite yoga pose because it didn’t seem stretchy enough. Then I thought about skipping. But doing a skipping pose, or skipping in slow motion, would make me look like a total weirdo, so that was a no-go. The kids loved climbing trees, but I was doing a tree pose with my branches outstretched and my toes curled into the floor like roots (nice touch!), so what were the chances that they would get me to repeat it? No, that was option number four, and so far the kids hadn’t asked for either of my solid, tried and tested yoga moves, so I was pretty confident. And I wasn’t too keen on doing a handstand in front of them, so I assumed the most childish of positions that any under-10 year old has to assume for hours a week in school classes: sitting cross-legged, in a hallway that smelled of boiled vegetables.
“Uh huh,” Client 1 said.
“Hmm,” said number two.
“I’m not sure that’s what we want,” said a third customer, as I awkwardly stood up and assumed my “normal pose.”
“It’s okay,” I said, “I know my type of yoga isn’t for everyone.”
How not to be a supermodel Available in hardback, e-book and audiobook hereIf you live outside the UK, please note that Waterstones delivers worldwide, and at the time of writing, a limited number of signed first editions are available for sale at Toppings. here.
Source: Ruth Crilly – www.ruthcrilly.co.uk
