Elyse Sewell (elysesewell) wrote,

my diary by elyse

So everyone thinks that being a model is really easy and glamorous and stuff, but it actually takes a lot of hard
work and stuff! If you don't believe me, just take a look at all the stuff I had to do today:

I had a half-day job booked in the morning. I had to get up at 9:00am! I had to ride the subway four stops and
then walk all the way to a salon to get my hair done. Can you believe the stylist actually laughed at my bedhead?! I mean, hello, brushing it is YOUR job.


The job was a very minor editorial about Loewe handbags, shot in the Loewe store. The male model was SO hot! (Hello, aren't they all?!)


We finished a little bit early so I had time for a belated Thanksgiving dinner. I was SO bloated after!


In the afternoon, I had two castings. The first one was near the job site, so I went straight there. I had to try on a horrendous orange tube top with some knee-length white stretch pants. The photographer and the client said I was "very photogenic," but I don't think they really meant it! I'm SO ugly! And I look really bad in orange!

Then the next casting was in the ass-end of the Bronx of Hong Kong (San Po Kong, if you happen to be down). Ew, riding the bus is SO icky, and there aren't ANY male models to check out!


Oh my god, where IS it?! I had to ask a construction worker.

There we go! #106 King Fuk Street (no lie!).

I tried on a nightmare of a pondscum-green dress that your mom wore to that ill-advised key party she and your dad threw in the 70s. It had rhinestone-studded fleshtone sheer nylon insets in the sides. It was way too big in the chest and I think I flashed my boobie when they took a Polaroid. Oh my god! They got me another outfit to try on: cream-colored tuxedo pants with rhinestone-studded stripes, and a delicate chiffon pondscum top. Same deal with the chest- I flexed my boobs as hard as I could, but it was way too big! Oh my god, they hated me because I'm ugly! What a waste of bus-fare.

In the evening I had a fitting for tomorrow's job. Dear Stella McCartney, Were you high when you designed those
grey corduroy pants? They do nothing for my ass!

Now I seriously have to get some beauty sleep and stuff. Job tomorrow's at the crack of 2:45pm. WHEN will I find time to cleanse and tone, not to mention moisturize?

Love ya! TTFN!
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