In the spotlight

35

Matteo Rodriguez

I have to admit, all this modeling stuff is way harder than I originally thought. At first I said to myself: spending a week doing a few photos and then walking on a runway sounds easy enough. Right?

I couldn't be more mistaken. During the first two days, I didn't even have time to do anything else but run from one meeting to another. Meet the executives, directors, every crewmember there is, and my coworkers, even though I will most likely only work with them for a week.

Then my first photoshoot finally arrived. And it was horrible. Nobody has ever told me before that you can only make one specific facial expression throughout the whole shoot; pay attention to your positions, which are instructed by the photographer, and even to your breathing.

I delayed at least 5 other people's shoot that day with my clumsiness and lack of experience and left the scene as fast as possible before getting even more awkward looks from people and my so-called coworkers.

It was clear that they didn't like me at all. I tried making small talk with some of them while waiting, but they either ended up leaving or just answering in very short sentences, making me aware that they don't want me on the middle of their backs.

I don't know if their opinion on me was impacted by the incident with Sofia, or if they thought I was a conceited athlete with nothing to show off, or both. At this point, I couldn't really care less. Before only after came the realest struggle of them all.

Walking. Sounds easy enough. I scoffed to myself just by thinking about it. At first, Isabella and two of the best male models stood around me. One of them was completely unknown, and the other was the braided Afro-American guy from the gym. When I first walked out and back on the runway, they were still hopeful, even though I saw the smiles hiding in their eyes.

At least I wasn't as completely hopeless as I was during photoshoots. We have spent almost an entire night teaching me how to walk. Waist movement, facial expressions, the correct poses, showing off the dress itself. I have never been as grateful as that morning at 6 in the morning when I fell into my bed and didn't even get up... well, until 9 to head to another meeting.

Once that was done, my dearest sister thought that maybe we should try again with all this photoshoot stuff and sent me to this room with the instructions, "The photographer will call on you when you're next." Like I was in a doctor's office.

Needless to say, I was nowhere near to being called on. My chances decreased even further once a certain Norwegian girl walked in in her robe, attracting every single person's attention with only a simple sway through the door.

As if the same situation we fell into in that hotel back in Milano was repeating itself, we somehow always ended up running into each other here and there. The fact that we were walking for the same fashion house definitely helped, but we regularly worked out in the same gym and ate in the same cafeteria as well.

While I liked the fact that I was seeing Sofia so much, even if she avoided me like I was the black plague itself, she somehow always attracted her so-called "ex," even though they never dated.

Haydar Abadi. Isabella managed to find out everything about this mysterious man who just randomly popped up and started off very strong in the gym, two days after the official start of fashion week. After that bone-chilling text Adriana sent her, it was clear that he is not a good man in the slightest, but she wanted to be clear about everything before judging.

When that moment arrived, we disliked him even more than before. He was the same age as me, born in the Qatari capital Doha as an only child. He started off with modeling as a hobby around the age of 18 but quickly rose to the top, not surprising given his looks and physique and, well, his dad's money.