End of the Road
Tomorrow marks the end of the road on my Walk of Fame. It’s been — at turns — fun, frustrating, maddening, and anger inducing. There were some highs in there when the contest outfits worked perfectly and the judge du jour scored it. And there were a lot of lows when the seemingly random nature of the outcomes became overwhelming.
If I’m honest in looking back over the last four months, on balance, I’d say it was worth it. I met a lot of very nice people. I learned a lot about the way some people view fashion and the people who model it. I learned a lot about myself as well.
Looking back at the blog, this is the way I looked on my second competition.
This was after working on skin and shape, and while I was still thinking I’d be able to be a model without going broke. I was so naive.
My look has gotten a lot more sophisticated since the beginning of March.
And my photography skills have improved a lot as well.
In the contest tomorrow, three judges will rate me against seven gorgeous and talented women, most of whom have a lot more experience at this than I do. I’ll be judged in three outfits across four dimensions, and in the end the organizers will pick the people they want to win. That’s not a critique. It’s a simple statement of fact. I got a notecard with that information in it. I’m sure they’ll probably take the judges’ scores into consideration, because being a judge is a gawd-awful thankless task and they’re owed at least that much consideration, but the bottom line is that the organizers reserve the right to assign the top ten — or eight in our case — prizes solely at their own discretion.
Ok. I’d rather have known that going in than coming out, but I kinda suspected it all along and if that’s what the game is, then that’s the game. I got no beef.
In many ways I really am the poser I’ve complained about — having bought my way into the pageant by dint of knowing how many lindens to plunk down on my picture at what times. In all honesty, while I can walk the walk, talk the talk, and actually know what I’m talking about in the process, I’m not really a model. I’m just a guy who likes to write about fashion and wanted to see what a pageant was like from the inside.
Well, I saw. I wrote.
And I’m pretty sure I’m going to be in the “also ran” category tomorrow. If I place higher than 6th in an 8 person pageant against 7 gorgeous and talented women, it’ll be a miracle. I’m already pretty sure — since the organizer announced that she’s already selected “Miss Photogenic,” I’m probably not even gonna get the consolation prize. Ah, well. Somebody needs to be on the bottom rung, and it’s pretty clear I’ve been penciled into that slot before the show even begins. Anything above last place is gravy.
Whatever the outcome, I’ll always remember my time with this group and I’m taking away some valuable lessons in fashion and in modeling.
I think for my next challenge, maybe I’ll see if I can be a writer for a fashion magazine. Or maybe become a male model for real. Who knows.
As Scarlett said, “Tomorrow is another day.”