Bitchy Stylists

In all my years of modelling I have found the stereotype of models, stylists, casting directors and designers to be a myth. That's why when a person who does fit the criteria emerges I am so shocked to see it.
Today I was called at 8am about a fitting that I was needed for in and asked if I could come in as soon as I could. Seeing as I was pretty much doing them a favour I expected a little gratitude.
This was not to be found.
Everyone was normal except the stylist who was rude from the moment I walked in.
Why make life more difficult by being a horrible person?
She clearly thought she was the bee's knees and far too important a person to be having any kind of conversation with me, but FUCK- to be unnecessarily rude? Really?
So I already don't like her and then another model arrives and I think praise the lord i'm saved my work load will be halved- only for her to look at this beautiful hispanic woman and say 'oh no I can't, I just couldn't, it ruins my aesthetic, it really throws me off'.
She was openly racist, anything the girl put on she claimed 'didn't look right' and when it was put on me it was fine.
She told me to do a catwalk in an outfit, so I did.
'WALK FASTER'
so I did, and then I stopped,
'DID I TELL YOU TO STOP? KEEP WALKING!'
I have never wanted to punch someone in the face so much.
Left with a migraine and so much hatred.
If I EVER see her in the street her life will be hell.
Vanessa Reid you're in the burn book.

Eating Eggs

with Tanya in Totteridge

Hristus se rodi

The battle for badnjak 

MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY NEW YEAR

Christmas at the Lutz's was wonderful, with some game-time at the Walkers too. 

 New Years eve with the boys (Soar, Collins, Kent, Travers, Elijah) was perfect, haven't seen them as a group in ages- we have drifted so much. Travers made a toast to me.

 The girls were a great surprise! - Cara, Tilly and Bibi baby love.

 Finally met Katie at 1am in a vault of sweaty trap-rappers. Moist.

A Timbergram

Two improbable possibilities

Two fixed paths

Collide in one rarity

And become uncertain

About everything that came before.

The twilight of a stagnant week

Sparkles

As a new week unfolds before us

hesitant and winding.

A casual approach

A retreat

A searching glance

The impeccable manners

Of a gentleman.

A gentle touch

Cranberry red pulse

Beats and breaks

The façade of a rotting relationship

With another.

Bound to another and yet,

Back less, sheer, low cut

Meant for wondering eyes.

Beneath the pristine disguise;

A bare truth

Two consciences converse

An uneasy compromise.

An open hand

Just one palm reading, just one embrace

Yet- a furry warmth

Creeps up unexpected

A remarkable comfort.

Time becomes relevant to moments spent

Demystifying tea-leaf fortunes with you

Liquid touchstone.

An affair of gestures

And subtle gazes

Abruptly ended

With a Timbergram.  

Dyed with gargling emotions

Thick with questions

Heavy, pushed against my heart

Engraved in wood

A flattering three lines

lay flat

24 hours with Nelly

I was sat in a two-hour lecture on Leninism, Stalinism, Trotskyism and oh look how sparkly that girl’s hair clip ism and I bet I can draw a pretty cat ism….

The standard nerd of the class kept asking those questions that aren’t really questions but more statements to show how much he has read. I have been ripping into this particular boy this whole term and arguing against all his points or just rolling my eyes and nudging the person next to me to giggle as he puts a dictaphone on the lecturer’s table at the start of class, or is scribbling notes with such concentration his nose is touching his paper. But I piped down in this class when I was told by one of the people I nudged that he was autistic and I wasn’t funny.

So, I was bored. And hungry.

I got a text saying I should come out for dinner after my lecture with my friend Kitty, a banker and two buyers for Selfridges.

My stomach rumbled in agreement. But I was wearing a Primark dress so I ran up and down Oxford Street looking for something to wear and frantically got changed in Soho Square, which I’m sure is not unusual.

We ate at La Botega Negra, which serves Mexican food but you have to walk into what looks like a porn shop on Old Compton Street to get into it. Essentially a cellar it was small and overcrowded but the food was incredible, most memorably the leg of lamb which arrived still cooking and took up most of the table. It was also the kind of place where we had a round of Martinis bought for us by a ‘man across the room’.

We then went to the Miu Miu Club, a three-day pop-up private members club with Michelin-starred restaurants, a ‘conversation room’ and a bunch of other such eccentricities, at the Café Royal on Regent Street.

Not entirely sure how we got in, but amongst the chic Italian ladies we looked a bit out of place. The building was incredibly ornate and with all the luscious food and cocktails Kitty and me asserted, drunkenly, that there must be macaroons to be found here. So we ran through ballrooms and up and down grand staircases looking for them, in our haste we nearly had a head-on collision with Kate Moss and Dita von Teese.

To our great disappointment there were no macaroons and after causing sufficient ruckus we went home.

The next day I was doing a charity fashion show for Women For Women, sponsored by Harper’s Bazaar and Browns in the Italian embassy. After convincing someone at the door that Kitty was war torn and a worthy edition to the evening, she sat in the front row and watched the show. There was then an auction and one of the dresses I wore sold for £3000- I felt quite proud.

After the show I got my chance to see the splendour of the embassy and mingle with the guests. Rumour got to us that there were macaroons being served and we finally found what we had been searching for so long!

We then went to Wagamamas behind Selfridges and had dinner with club promoters and JSL, which was sufficiently bizarre.

We then went to Rose with the promoters and Wagamama gang for their usual Thursday Hip Hop night, where we popped bottles of Ciroc and all that jazz.

We went home having not spent a penny in two days, but lived the high-life- the true Model Student lifestyle.

Your macaroon-finding expert,

Nelly

Model Student

My fashion/ nights out related articles in a column I have started writing for the Angle.

http://www.theanglenews.co.uk/fashion/article-c478e47cddf/model-student-vol3-high-fashion-nudity-or-glorified-porn.html


Nelly
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