“Keep smiling, no matter what. They’ll ask you some questions. Don’t give them any one-word answers but don’t go on for hours either. Their time is precious.” He glanced at my number. “They’ll be tired by the time you go in, so you’ll need to work twice as hard to impress them.”
“Oh.”
“Eat lightly while you wait. You don’t want your stomach to rumble while you’re in there, but you don’t want to be bloated when they take your measurements. Have you got your comp card and portfolio?”
I stared at him. “My…comp card?”
“Yeah. You know what that is, right?”
I shook my head.
Seth took a card out of his bag and handed it to me. It was slightly larger than a postcard. There was a stunning headshot on one side, with his name underneath. I flipped it over and saw four shots of him in different poses and from different distances, along with his measurements.
“It’s a mini portfolio you leave with agents and photographers,” Seth explained. “It’s a must-have. They might not sign me today, but they’ll have my comp card. Who knows? I might be exactly what they’re looking for a few weeks or months later.”
I kept staring at the card, flipping it over again and again. Aside from the fact I didn’t have a comp card, I quickly realised his photos were leagues better than mine. My stomach started to sink.
“That’s me,” Seth said as the next number was called. “Good luck.”
“Yeah, you too.”
Something told me Seth was much more likely to get signed than I was.
I tried to stay calm as the minutes ticked by, but as my wait turned into hours, I started to sweat, and my skin became prickly. I didn’t dare go to the toilet in case I missed my turn. The number of aspiring models in the room dwindled, but it was also getting closer and closer to the end of business hours. Would they turn some of us away, even after we’d waited all day? I contented myself with the knowledge that they’d let at least a dozen guys in after me. Surely I would get seen?
My number was finally called at ten to five. I was sure I didn’t look my best anymore, but I would have to do.
I was led through to a boardroom. A man in a sharp grey suit was sitting behind a walnut desk. A woman with glasses and a clipboard sat beside him.
The man stood and held out his hand. “I’m Gavin, the casting director here at ICE Modelling.”
“Jae. Pleased to meet you.”
Gavin sat and motioned to an empty chair. I sat.
“In a moment, Stacey will take your measurements.” He gestured to the woman beside him. “But let’s start with a chat.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I clutched my portfolio, unsure if I should hand it over or wait for Gavin to ask me for it. I also cursed myself for giving him a one-word answer. The nod would have sufficed. I should have kept my mouth shut. I took a deep breath. I needed to stay calm.
“Describe yourself in three words.”
I stared at Gavin for far too long. I wasn’t expecting that to be his opening question. “Uh, sassy, fun, and reliable.”
He smiled and made some notes. “Do you have a portfolio?”
I nodded and handed it over to him.
He started to flick through it, barely glancing at a page before turning to the next. “Tell me about your modelling experience.” He didn’t look at me as he spoke.
“I don’t have any. But I’m a fast learner.”
He closed my portfolio. “What kind of modelling would you be most suited to?”
“Catwalk or fashion. Not sportswear,” I added with a chuckle.
Gavin barely cracked a smile. “Let’s see your walk.”
