Models vs. Real People

Last week, I somehow got talked into taking part in a International Women's Day fashion show featuring a group of Shanghai's female professionals. They tempted me with free clothing, how could I say no?

I arrived at 4PM sharp for almost 3 hours of hair, make-up and practice. I was one of three western women, as all of the other 'models' were Shanghainese movers and shakers.

The hair stylist apparently thought most of the women were too short for the runway, and took the liberty of adding 3-4 inches of hair height.

With lots of ratting and hairspray, the hair stylist unknowingly re-created my 8th Grade Dance Hair (circa 1990) . Needless to say, that style remains a low point (right next to the spiral perm and big bangs) in my hair history.

The show started at 6:30, and it was my understanding that I could do the fashion show and cut out after. But, as happens so many times in China, I misunderstood the situation, and ended up having to sit down to a formal dinner, listen to many speeches (in Mandarin of course), and watch several cultural performances before my runway debut.

After dinner, speeches, entertainment, and several toasts of orange soda (apparently the drink of choice for Women's Day events), it was time for the 'Fashion Show by Elegant Women Elites', my big runway debut. I felt pretty good, as I had at least 4 inches on all of the other participants and was by far the youngest of the group by at least a decade, and while I wasn't a big fan of my hair, looking at the other participants, it seemed I had gotten off easy. With my ego puffing up by the moment, I took my place in line, trying to remember all of the instructions barked at me during our 45 minute practice (of which I had understood about 20% since they were all in mandarin) and hoping I wouldn't fall.

Then something even more unexpected than having to sit through a formal dinner with ridiculous amounts of orange soda happened. A gaggle of real models breezed right past onto the stage. I immediately had a flashback to an old Sex & the City episode, as I realized there were 'real' models followed by us, the 'real' people. Let me tell you, there's no bigger reminder that you're NOT a model then having to follow a bunch of real models on a runway in front of an audience of 400+ people.

I was able to scrape a bit of my ego off the floor when after the show a very kind man from the audience asked to take his picture with me. He was pretty surprised when I asked him if I could take a picture of the two of us with my camera as well. I figured what the heck, I may not be a model, but at least I've got a fan, and I've got the picture to prove it!