Last week I fell for it again. I waited around for my dream designer to call me back. No, we weren’t planning to hook up. It was much more serious than that. I was going to walk in his upcoming show – the one in LA. It was going to be my break into the LA market –they were finally going to see me strut.
And now I’m sitting on the rug, paging through old magazines and gorging on sorbet. Melissa, Jane, and even – her. He picked her?? Good luck getting her to show up for your show. I hope he hired a chauffeur to wake her ass up the morning of the show. .. and lots of powder for her notoriously red nose.
If I sound bitter, I’m not. I mean, I get it that designers can be fickle. Everyone is your best friend at the fittings. It’s all ‘daaarling, it’s been forever’ and smiles and kisses but I know that shit is fake. They smile so I smile. They want me to feel a certain way so I look a certain way.
I know this, but I get caught up every time. Can you blame me? I like being treated like a princess – I’ve gotten used to it. I expect people to love me because they always do. This designer always made me feel like a princess. When I walked in the room, it was: ‘everyone leave now, the princess has arrived.’ Then he would stop what he was doing, offer me some tea and chat about his latest projects.
So I guess I was a bit surprised when I didn’t get chosen for this show. I mean we talked about it- I mean, I did at least. I told him how I always wanted to work in LA. I complimented his new line. We even talked about his plans for the next show. I was certain he was going to choose me. I mean, why wouldn’t he?
So I waited, turning down other projects that my agent shot my way.
“I’m not interested,” I said just last week to her.
“Not, interested? What the hell do you mean? We’ve been talking about this shoot for weeks! I went to lunch with the designer. I damn near slept with him to get you this shoot! What do you mean you don’t want it??” She yelled through the phone.
“I’m just not feeling it anymore, you know?”
I’m pretty sure she is still mad at me, especially since I didn’t tell her I was holding out for the LA show. I negotiated (or thought I had negotiated) that project on my own. I needed to show her that I could. So I stayed quiet. I was going to tell her in a couple days once I was booked.
Unfortunately, I never got booked. So now I’m sitting here paging through magazines, eating sorbet and wondering how I am going to apologize to my agent. Dammit, I can’t believe I fell for it.