Fashioning Fat: Inside Plus-Size Modeling by Amanda M. Czerniawski Read Free Book Online Page A

station, I quickly found the office building and then backtracked to a drug store around the corner. When I went to auditions as a child actor, my mom and I rode into the city on the commuter rail system, hopped on the subway, and then stopped at any fast-food restaurant within the vicinity of the audition location for a cup of standard, orange pekoe tea and small fries. (This was before coffee shops replaced the ubiquitous fast food joint on every Manhattan city block.) It became our ritual that helped me to mentally distance myself from the stresses of the school day and prepare myself for the audition. On this day, I was too nervous for a cup of tea and simply wanted to inconspicuously check my hair and makeup.
    I returned to the building promptly at 11:15 a.m. for my 11:30 a.m. appointment and rode the elevator up to the agency’s suite. When the doors opened, a rush of sights and sounds did not greet me as in the last agency. Instead, the décor was rather sparse. A mere potted plant and a stand-alone air purifier accented the off-white walls of the reception area.The receptionist handed me some paperwork to fill out and directed me to a pair of chairs against the opposite wall. I waited, again.
    I was sitting in the center of daily operations for this mid-sized agency, which employed up to eight modeling agents. Agents swirled about the facility, scampering from one office to another, often pausing at reception to chat with the young woman answering the phones or pick up bundles of mail. From my seat, I heard an agent haggle over the phone with a client about an upcoming television commercial. Another complained to a client about a delayed payment. The constant chatter and underlying buzz from the air purifier lulled me into a state of complacency such that I had not noticed that an hour had passed. Finally, I was called into the director’s office.
    I entered. On a desk in front of me were piles of photos and proof sheets. To my left, shelves displaying the faces of dozens of plus-size models with ruby lips and smoky eyes stared down at me. These were the director’s “girls”; they were his business. I wanted my picture up on that wall.
    Having failed to learn from my previous interaction with a modeling agent, I was caught off guard by a lack of personal introduction. Instead, in rapid-fire succession, Bobby, the director, detailed my fate as a plus-size model while he visually sized me up aloud:
    You’re cute and have a good personality but a bit small for plus. We start at [size] fourteen but you may be right for fit and commercial [modeling]. You have good eyes, teeth, and well proportioned . . . You will have to maintain your shape . . . Besides fit modeling, you could do showroom and commercial print for catalogues, cute little articles in magazines like
Marie Claire
, and commercials like Verizon . . . You are more of the Banana Republic look . . . classier, sophisticated.
    At some point during his verbal tirade, I reckoned this was a sales pitch to tantalize my model dreams, throwing me candy bits with recognizable retailers and markets to bait me. As much as I tried to sell myself to this agent, he tried to sell his services to me. I felt relieved that Bobby,a fashion insider, thought I might have a future in modeling. The first agency open call left me discouraged, but now I was hopeful, my confidence bolstered. His positive evaluation of my body and “look” was the validation I needed to pursue this adventure. I could do this.
    Before agreeing to work with me on a freelance basis, Bobby required that I “test,” i.e., have photos taken by a professional fashion photographer to see how I perform in front of a camera and acquire high-quality photos for my portfolio. After the test shoot, we would meet again to discuss my modeling future and “get rolling.” He handed me a photographer’s business card and directed me out the door. My modeling journey had officially begun.
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