Despite – and perhaps because of – being a short, thickly
built and awkward ‘tween’ (not a term we used then), I loved loved loved
fashion magazines. I would study them
cover to cover, especially during the summer, when I was unencumbered by school
work. As an only child with a
stay-at-home mom, I had time on my hands during the summers and my mother and I
both loved to read. For the first few days of each monthly magazine cycle, my reading just happened
to be fashion magazines. Elle, Glamour, and Mademoiselle were my favorites; probably
because of the emphasis on health and beauty aids and “what to buy”
columns. (Vogue and Cosmo would
come later – couture and sex tips weren’t really on my radar yet. Fun fact: the first check I ever wrote from
my first checking account was for a Cosmo
subscription.)
So, like many American girls, I was drawn into the
unattainably gorgeous world of beauty and fashion. I knew I could never be a model, but I
daydreamed about it nonetheless. I knew
I could never be on TV or film, but I daydreamed. (I even created roles for myself on sitcoms;
Blaire Warner’s younger sister, duh!) As
I got older, I got more distracted by school, driving, work, driving, and
friends (did I mention driving?) and my obsession with magazines waned. My daydreams turned more into college
admissions obsession and, during the ensuing years, I was preoccupied with work,
marriage and children. I was certainly
not the type of person to resurrect those daydreams and replace myself with my
children. Here I am, though, a model
mom. Though I know my tiny daughter (and
by tiny, I mean 10th percentile for height for her age) will never
be a teen or adult model, there had to be something that intrigued me about
those glossy pages for me to pursue any type of modeling for my child. Though I don’t always like to admit it, I’m
sure all those hours with all those magazines played a role in my decision to
take the plunge and submit photos. After
all, that flawless airbrushed skin you see on magazine covers? Little kids actually have that skin.
My long-winded back story is relevant here: where did I
begin? Well, with all of the modeling
agencies I had heard of from my days of studying the great supermodels of the
1980s. Ford, Elite, and Wilhelmina were
agency names that rolled off my tongue, so I looked up their addresses online
and read about submitting photos. Ford
and Wilhelmina had children’s divisions; Elite did not. I ordered some prints of photos from Walmart
(3 or 4, I forget, but I've included one of them below) different looks, wrote my daughter’s name and my contact
info on the back of each with a Sharpie, and put them in the mail. Like the toaster oven commercial says, “Set
it and forget it!” Right? Welllllll…not really.
I mentioned in my prior post about child modeling that I get
focused on something and go all in. While the
mail was snailing along, I turned to the internet. I think back to those hand-addressed manila
envelopes and realized I knew nothing.
NOTHING. Because I met…dramatic
pause…backstage.com.
Next time: what I
learned from Backstage about submissions and agencies.
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