When I moved to Detroit, I didn't work in my field, so to speak. I worked as a social worker, a receptionist, and a car show model among a few other tepid gigs of that order. Vogue it wasn't. The modelling jobs, such as they were, consisted of going to the ugliest office in all of the world that was papered with xerox copies of head shots and littered with pantyhose and hairspray bottles, the stale smell of make up in the air. It gave me the creeps for reasons I couldn't articulate as did my boss who had legs so thin that I often thought she might be a man. She sucked down Diet Coke from the big two-liter bottles and chainsmoked while evaluating us. "You're prettier than a lot of my car show girls," she said to me. "Great legs, but we have to do something about your hairstyle. And your make-up. Although your foundation looks expensive." The next person didn't fair so well, "Honey, you are just way too fat and your nose looks like it's been broken. I'm not a magician."
I didn't do much in this field given that I'm way too short and the whole thing was demoralizing. Too tall to be a gymnast, too short for other things. The story, it would seem, of my life. The worst was the car show. The year I experienced it was one of an epic blizzard that made getting to Cobo Hall a wretched hellish journey. I stood around for hours, touching cars. I hate cars. Except my car Snowflake. When I got home to him, I looked at him with great love. He would never be a model car, but he was mine. Love changes everything. Under its gaze, the plain becomes spectacular and everything else falls away.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
Cocktail Hour
Drinking television suggestion: Saving Grace
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Thursday!
10 comments:
My college roomies were the heirs to the Autorama legacy. Talk about car shows! And everything that goes with 'em!
I wouldn't mind being "cross" with you, if you know what I mean.
25 years and 37 engines later and Snowflake (what a sissy name for a guy car) could be in the Woodward Dream Cruise, course it would be to big to be a chopped and channeled hot rod and too small to be an all steel classic, but such is the story of his life. Perfection is where you find it."Love changes everything. Under its gaze, the plain becomes spectacular and everything else falls away." except for ugly girly names for guy cars.
Peace
mark
Great post! I am there with you - been there...too short...who cares!
And too old to be a ballerina...the stories of our lives.
And, yes, love changes everything. But sometimes it's like continuously hitting the snooze button while I lay comfortably in bed...and then - YIKES - the second alarm goes off, I wake up and THAT changes everything!
myCajunQueen
CarmodelO
FoxlyMamaD
SavNRCity
DreamCruz2
R2C2
Shazzzammmmmmm!!!!!
I like your ending phrase very much. Quite true.
Michelle, you are the perfect height to by you! :) It's a fact. Think about it.
Sweet Snowflake! :)
"Your foundation looks expensive." My God.
I love Snowflake too, though I've never met him, but i have seen photos and he looked sincere and lovable, reliable...true.
Happy late August.
~Dawn
We wan the spells! Wa want the spells! we wants the spells!!!
I wonder if the Detroit Auto Show still has a fiction contest. I believe Bonnie Jo Campbell was a past recipient. Michelle, you could've had the inside scoop on all the judges.
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