Today I went back to class from holidays, and after two long weeks my body wasn't quite ready for it. It was one of our classmates birthdays, and so we all wore pyjamas for the day, giving me an excuse to sport my favourite cookie monster set, which shows him adorably dressed in Hipster glasses and a bow tie, and bears the pun "One smart cookie." I love puns. And cookies.
We began class with an intensive warm up, and some routines that we hadn't looked at in a few months, so my brain was well and truly wrung out. I was quite pleased with the performance of my grey matter, but I can't exactly say the same for my body; not only did I accidentally punch my friend in the head in the middle of a routine, but unfortunately, awkward and incorrect angles still seem to be a talent of mine.
We then had a catwalk workshop, for which we had to neaten and primp our sweaty and panting bodies in the space of fifteen minutes. After being fitted for a gown (proper full length formal style gowns from up and coming designers,) we got into the first part of the class. We walked to the front of the room over and over again, learning how to pose and turn, did some partner choreography catwalk exercises, and then learned to take our jacket off and sling it over our shoulder in a smooth and effortless manner. Let me just say that it is not an exercise that requires no effort, and I definitely did not make it look smooth. After getting my arms caught, nearly flicking the person behind me as I tried to throw it over my shoulder, and pulling weird faces as I tried to master the exercise while walking, I finally got it right, and in my excitement of feeling like a pro I lost my balance on the turn and looked like far less than a pro.
When we (I) finally semi-mastered the walking and the remaining upright while turning part, we learned some group choreography, and then were told to get our gowns ready for the mock show. To simulate a real show, these were quick changes; your group would walk in their street wear, run to the dressing room while the other groups went on, change into their gowns and return to the stage. I have had plenty of experience with quick changes, but I had abut 2 minutes, and my street wear involved skinny jeans. Add to this the fact that it was a shared dressing room, and this led to me hopping around in my bra, half out of my jeans, and trying to find someone to help with my dress. The dress was a gorgeous blue strapless number, worth more than my life, and of course, was the only one with a train. Being short, I took a few steps to figure out if I could walk in it without treading on it, and immediately felt my heel snag. Someone helped me to free it, but neither of us were game to see if there was any damage. I then had to ungracefully hoik one side of the dress up so that it did not drag on the floor at all, take a huge breath to stop the corset part from sliding down, and then attempt to look ethereal and not fall over.
Luckily I didn't fall over, or accidentally flash. I can't say I was a great model, but no one died in a freak model accident cause by me, and the dress made it back to the hanger (hopefully) unscathed.
Modelling is hard.
Xx, Little Duck (who got to dress like a princess. No wonder royals are under so much stress.)
No comments:
Post a Comment