My family would say my career started in the fourth grade, when I was asked to model for the Children’s Place, which was like a dream come true for me, but a nightmare for my mom. She described those clothes as “the creations of a cheesy pedophile on acid.” At the time, I had no idea what that meant. Most would say it started at the third year of university, when I was asked to model for a skincare line for a drug store. The catch: they gave me some of their skincare stuff for free after the shoot, and it caused me to break out even more the next day. However, I think it started the day I got the call. It was jogging around Central Park, still fuming over my mom’s spontaneous and inconvenient visit from the day before, and what to do with her, when my cell phone rang.
“Hello?” I said.
“Natalia?”
“Oh, hey Griffin. Listen, I’m not really in the mood for the immature banter.”
“Well, are you in the mood to become an Angel?”
I came to a screeching halt then and there.
“Excuse me?”
“I just got a call from someone at Victoria’s Secret. They saw an ad in a magazine with a picture of you. Remember that last shoot you did?”
“The Nair hair removal thingie?”
“Exactly. He loved it. They thinks you have something special going for you. There was a bunch of talk about “grace” “poise” and all these other words. It was a little scary. Anyway, they’re getting ready to launch a new line of lingerie this month. There’s even going to be a little thing for the models downtown this week or something. And they wanted you to do some modeling, and see if you want to become one of Victoria’s Secret Angels. If you’re up for it.”
“Uhm, sure, sure, no problem, I’d love that! Where’s the shoot going to be?”
“Have you ever been to their location in Midtown West?”
“All the time!”
“Okay, be there at around 7:00. I’ll call Rachelle, she’ll round up the crew and we’ll be waiting there for you.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Nat, are you okay? You sound a little light headed.”
“I’m alright. I’m okay. I’m good.”
“Are you coming down with something?”
“NO! I swear, I’m NOT! I’m fine, I’m fine! Oh my God, do you know what this means?!”
“Yes I do.” I could hear his smugness over the phone. I couldn’t have cared less at the moment.
“Alright Griffin, I got to go. Thank you!”
“Later!”
I had to sit down right then and there. I collapsed on a park bench and tried to soak in that conversation. So, while I was deciding on whether or not to send my mom into the streets, someone was looking upon me as Victoria’s Secret Angel material? How did they all know that becoming an Angel was my top 5 dream modeling jobs? (Up there with Forever 21, Chanel (the perfume), Aerie, and Guess.) Then again, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one. There was something about becoming one of the Angels that always seemed to haunt me. No, it wasn’t showing off my body to millions of people. They always seemed like the symbol of perfection to me. And in the world of modeling, perfect was your ticket to success. And now I was so close to perfect. I could almost taste it.
I was crazy. I don’t know what overcame me. I was ready to do just about any-fucking-thing. I was that happy. So when I was picking up my mom from the hotel, I foolishly said,
YOU ARE READING
I Think I Knew That Model
HumorNatalia has come a long way from her geeky, loser teenage years, and now her dream to move to Manhattan and become a model and is a reality. While the lifestyle in is far from glamorous, she's finally happy with herself, and what her life has to of...
