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Milano!
‘Pronto!' they utter!
"What in the world is pronto?" I kept on asking myself every time I dialed an Italian phone number.
I had decided to make a quick trip to Italy and grab whatever opportunity that may have been waiting on me.
Fashion week Milan is coming up in about a week and a half, Models are beginning to fill the city, the grand designer parties all over the ‘via's', agencies being the busiest in the city, and there I walk in, looking quiet fresh, I presume as my 3-minute walk from the parking spot on Via San Vittore, to the building ‘40' confirmed it.
"Bella!" I hear the men shriek,
The petit ladies ogling as well, making me feel like I just stepped out of a ‘Black Vogue Italia' photo shoot. "Buzz!" I ring the bell at number 40.
"Pronto!" a voice yells out, rather sloppily.
"Pronto!" I respond back. "Can you let me in?" "I am the model from Africa." I add on
Then she buzzes me in and When I eventually walk into Elite Models (Milano), a young guy walks up to me shakes my hand and begins conversation in Italian.
"Oops sorry I don't speak Italian!"
"I'm sorry about that. We can carry on in English. Just hang on while I get someone to take your measurements."
‘Measurements,' I thought to myself! What in the world is going on in Milan? Now they are going to take my measurements and I already have my measurements on my composite cards?
"Good morning!" "Can I see your book please?"
"I have my book here but it needs updating!" "You can have my composite cards though!"
Well, can I also see the book anyway?
"Sure," I handed her my book and my composite cards as well.
Then she pulled out a tape measure.
"Please take off your blazer." She requested.
Off went my navy blue ‘Balenciaga' blazer that had covered up all the cheese I had eaten in Milano and all the ‘bonbons' I had in Paris.
‘Busted!' I was.
"Oops!" too big! Hips are 38, we need them at 36."
For the 1st time in my life, I felt horrible about my cheese n chocolate craze. It had actually knocked off an opportunity for me to get into ‘Fashion week Milan!' How could I could be so silly, I thought to myself. The last time I had ever tried to hit the agencies in LA, which was about 4 years back, I was in perfect shape but they would not sign me up. Here I was 4 years later, nothing was wrong except the extra 2 inches on my hips. What was I supposed to do now? And what excuse would I bring up for missing a couple of opportunities this time round?
If my habits were beginning to interfere with my rare modeling opportunities, then something had to change. These are the habits that were good to me, but not good for me.
Would I have to stop eating my favorite junk? I know I was not able to work out due to health problems, I know that greens, vegetables and fruits was never my cup of tea, I know that I could almost not do without ‘fries', and cheese and chocolate were a major part of the spice in my life.
"Sit down here my dear!" "How old are you?" she inquired
"The real one or the fake one?" I asked.
"Hehehehe." She giggled, "both, but the real one first!"
"26 is the real one", "but the fake one is 20"
"That's not bad!" I would never think you were 26."
The scout then took her time and sat down with me to just have a chat. She was wearing one of those sweater dresses that held her body in perfect shape. She had a very nice pair of multi-colored round-toed, 6" pumps to make up for her height. Like all the Italian women I had come across, except the models, she was standing at a height of about 5.4" and she had beautiful black hair that just fell obediently on either direction her head commanded.
The scout explained to me why she was having a hard time booking me for a couple of shows (which she did not have to). She explained in detail why the extra inches on the hips was not going to make it possible to book me for shows, she talked about the time constraints as well, as I should have gone to the agency at least a month prior to fashion week. At this time, they were already having castings and had finally made a pick on the models they intended to work with, for the different shows. This scout also advised me on my photos; what I should take out and what I should've left in the book for me to sell well within the Italian market. And lastly, she mentioned my race, which she clearly stated, was a problem from the clients' end and not the agency. She finally offered a listing of other agencies and specifically highlighted about 5 of them, and asked me to find time and check them out.
At least someone finally communicated! Too bad I cannot remember her name but I got to give it up to her for doing her damn thing and doing it well.
Via Zenale 9, was my next stop. Why not "Why Not Models." I thought....
"Ciao"
"Ciao I responded!
The lady could not speak English to save a life, but since my friend Massimo had accompanied me to the agencies, he was able to present me to the recruiter in ‘italiano.' But before he was done, the lady cut him short by informing him that I am ‘black' and none of their clients would be interested.
This was the same story at ‘taxi models' and, ‘ice models'...
However, we could never get a response from Riccardo Gay, which had been earlier recommended to me. Everyday I passed by and buzzed; there was never a response....
I finally got attention from ‘Casting it', and who agreed to sign me and get me work, but it would be once in a while. At some point, I got tired and decided to just enjoy Milano. I also got some phone calls, did a couple of shows, but the ‘race' issue just seemed to be an ongoing issue.
"We don't need any more black models, we already have Naomi in the show," a couple of the scouts mentioned.
mmmh, could we say some are just special!!!!
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