In anticipation of our wrap party, which also coincides with Anh’s birthday, the spirits are high and the momentum is still just as consistent today as it has been on any day leading up to this moment. I’m smiling from ear-to-ear and we hold random dance parties in the middle of the studio upon the finish of each model. Next!
Jane asks if I will sit in as a pixie-cut model, and I oblige. Now its time for my makeup, hair and wardrobe! Modeling is a tough gig, holy Toledo! I’ve done it once before for a stylist pose (last year), but when you’re posed into a ‘hair shot’ everything needs to reflect the inspiration image. The gal in my inspiration picture must be at least 5 inches taller than me and–I’m sure–10lbs thinner. In the end Hamish works his magic in photoshop, removing my tattoos, lengthening my neck and smoothing out my complexion. I’d venture to guess (based on most folks image of themselves) that this would be insulting to remove, tweak, and smooth out everything that you are, but I enjoyed every minute of it. I was completely infatuated with the process. When you have a positive self-image you tend to find humor in your distorted image, instead of feeling negatively self-conscious. I was honored, more than anything, that they would ask me to model my haircut (thanks Anh, for my righteous new ‘do!).
We start saying our good-byes to the crew and down-size our group to just five.
I have Jane to thank for the inspiration and encouragement to start this blog. Her aura is captivating and you can’t possibly be in the same room with her and not feel her warmth. I applaud you as a business associate, fellow woman and genuine spirit.
We celebrate our successes in true east coast, shore-side fashion with dinner on the beach, and then a walk down Ocean Drive.
Next we popped in to the original bar from Miami Vice. True and (as Rhian would say) “a proper ‘dive bar’.” Mac’s Deuce Bar is still lit by thin neon borders across the length of the bar. And quite possibly is still one of the very few places where you can smoke indoors. This cut our visit extremely short.
Anh and I revisit the W hotel and almost immediately are approached by a slightly inebriated Armenian, who tells us “I’m in the industry”.
“What exactly does that mean?” I ask.
“I know all the club promoters” he boasts.
I took the bait willingly, and ventured “So what you’re saying is, you can get us into the Wall Lounge?” On a side note: you gotta be kinda hot to even approach the door staff and to be acknowledged. Essentially it’s models, industry personnel, and dudes strapped with cash. And then…there were we; fist-pumping and dancing a celebratory birthday dance alongside Miami’s most eligible and least attainable–by the average person’s perception. Hey, it helps to know people, as I always say….
I bid thee farewell, Miami; exclusive, gorgeous, and dominated by two divorceés.