The Model

Ch.3 - The Interview

I am driving, on my way to Ventura for the Vogue magazine interview. In my head, I was determined to interview Erika Linder. But my nerves are getting to me. I want to interview a fresh face. It can go beautifully or horrifically. Logically, Elliott Sailor, wouldn't be my first choice. Not even my second. She's not what I'm looking for in an interview that fits Vogue.

I had read the cover idea of the photo with the three models on each cover photo. The main topic was, "Female models looking like sexy men? How these three women pull it off!" So because I picture more of a male dominant role, she's out of the picture. Which ultimately leaves me with Erika Linder and Casey Legler. Casey wasn't my type of person to be around. She looked too loud and too crazy from the eyes of a quiet, more reserved girl.

I can't see her on Vogue. Who I can see, is Erika. She may seem weirdly put since all I can see her as, is the model in that song by Katy Perry. But she fits who I'm looking for. Quiet, classy, resolute, calm. Someone who is serious and wants nothing more than righteous exposure.

I bite my lip, thinking about the same Erika at that cafe. Will she be the same in the interview? Different? I stop when traffic starts up. I'm in the Valley now and everyone is trying to get where I'm going. I'm not sure why but then I see the cop car lights and see a huge crash. A large motor-home was burned to the ground and there was only one victim in the gurney, half chewed up and spit out from the fire.

I look forward and stared at the road. If that person can make it through that fire, alive, I can certainly make it through one, thirty minute interview with an attractive person.

By two I've reached my destination. The interview is at four when the low winds pick up from the wretched heat. So, I check in the hotel and unpack my bathroom toiletries and get my small, brown work bag, packing what I need inside. I decide to rinse my body so I'm fresh and kill time. Unfortunately, I still so much time to kill. I decide to keep the same clothes on; black, loose, boyfriend V-neck shirt, green cargo style jacket, denims with rips here and there along the legs, and my ankle high brown boots with a gold buckle on one side of each shoe.

I redo my hair and reapply my make up. I look ready for the interview. I'm prepared and have time to drive over. The studio is actually in a corn field twenty minutes away. It seems they paid the farmer a hefty sum for the pictures in the fields, allowing three hours of photo shooting. Each girl gets one hour which means a half hour of interview and their half hour of prepping.

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The city of Ventura is an old city. Founded by a Spaniard missionary monk, they had built it in between Malibu and Santa Barbara with a court hall in between. The library, City Hall, and many adobes sit idly in the sun, seeming to die out at any moment. But it's location on the beach makes it easier to live in. It's wealth is based on beautiful location and attraction. The city also gets money for movies and photo shoots like this one today.

I find the location off of my iPhone and park next to a black 2015 Audi two door car. It's beauty only cripples my twenty year old, gray, Honda Civic. I clutch my purse strap to my shoulder and follow the path and the music. I find myself seeing two large white tents with the word Vogue embellished in glitter and black painted writing. Many crew members are running around, many security guards patrol the area, and then I see the models. The three are in the farthest tent, entering all at once. I go into the first tent, seeing the magazine editor, photographer, and a few crew members from both professions.

"Madelina Denzo?" The editor, an older woman with a large rock on her wedding finger, approaches me hand first. I take it, shaking firmly and meaning business.

"Please, call me, Mina," I say and she smiles, nodding.

"This is our photographer, Levi Earnings," she says and Levi smiles, holding a camera and snaps a photo, catching me off guard.