GLAMOUR OR GRUNGE BECOMING A “MATURE” MODEL Part Two -By Linda L. Osmundson
The agency called to schedule an audition. Nerves almost under control, I strolled into the studio – casually dressed this time. Of course all the other women looked like they’d arrived from corporate offices.
At last they called me for three quick digital head shots. I’d spent a total of fifteen minutes, much shorter than the time I’d driven to get there. As I turned the doorknob to leave the studio, sharp metal cut two of my fingers – Murphy’s Law again. I suffered the pain and hurried to my car before anyone noticed. I received a two-day assignment.
I arrived expecting a glamorous shoot. I posed as an antique shop owner, a customer and sales clerk. The only mishap involved wiping away the plastered smile and make-up after four hours of shooting.
The next day glamour turned to grunge. The make-up artist cleansed my face then covered it again with a non-shiny pale foundation that made me look make-up-less. I sat on a stool atop a small rocky rise overlooking Colorado’s Lake Dillon and the snowcapped Rocky Mountains. She spritzed my hair with water and combed it roughly with her fingers. I looked like I’d just awakened from a bad dream.
“Good,” said one of the two photographers. He pointed me toward some trees, handed me some clothes and said, “Change.”
I hid behind two skinny trees in view of several male technicians and the photographers. They discreetly turned away – I think. I layered hip waders and a fly-fishing vest over my hiking pants and shirt, hung the fishing net from my shoulder and picked up a fly rod.
“Give her that backpack,” one photographer yelled. I dropped the rod, donned the heavy pack and stumbled over the rocky shore in wader boots two sizes too big. Reaching for the rod, I barely caught myself before the weight of the backpack toppled me forward.
“She’s ready,” said one photographer.
Ready, I thought. So much for glamour!
Next I wore a kayak skirt that looked like a rubber tutu. Two young men held each end of a kayak over my head. “Stand in the center and pretend to carry and strain under the kayak’s weight.” Even with the men’s help, I didn’t need to pretend.
The next shot required me to wade in the cold lake. My water shoes slipped over slimy rocks. I pulled a canoe holding “my husband” from shore about fifteen steps then pushed and guided it back to shore – not once, but at least ten times. My toes only felt slightly numb.
My outfits, umbrella and gear in hand, I headed up a steep grade to find my car. The photographer ran up behind me and kissed my cheek.
For another assignment, I arrived at a hospital. I told the group waiting for instructions that I hoped I wasn’t the sick little old lady. You guessed it, I played the patient. Besides riding in a wheel chair, I rode a gurney (supposedly from a flight for life helicopter) back and forth under a blistering sun and blankets in 96-degree temperature.
Recently, a friend called. “Your picture is on a website for the new retirement community. Did you get paid for that?” I logged onto the website. Sure enough, there I was in fishing gear.
Although my perception of modeling changed, getting into the business wasn’t hard. The pictures aren’t glamorous, but they’re me. I find them in odd places.
Linda L. Osmundson authored the award-winning three-book series How the West Was Drawn – Cowboy Charlie’s Art, Frederic Remington’s Art and Women’s Art. Like the series, her newest book, Papa’s Changes, Dementia Through a Child’s Eyes is meant for readers age 7 - 107. Hundreds of her articles have appeared in magazines, anthologies such as Chicken Soup for the Soul, blogs and newspapers. Discover more at LindaOsmundson.com.
