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I stare mournfully at my reflection in the full-length mirror. My boot cut jeans are too tight and the square heeled black boots on my feet are too chunky. This plain red cotton shirt isn’t doing me any favors either. Maybe I should have sprung for a new outfit because I’m pretty sure this is a fashion don’t right off the pages of a magazine. I take out my meager make up stash and haphazardly put on mascara and lipstick. With my finger, I dab concealer onto the dark half-moons beneath my eyes, but it’s no use. The make-up is old and drying out, so I wash it off and toss the compact in the trash. See, this is why I don’t do things on the spur of the moment.
Last night, I was poking around Craigslist classifieds, as I do every day after slogging through work and before collapsing into bed at night. The first category listed ahead of San Diego Apartments was Jobs. I never look, but my mouse accidentally clicked into that section and the first thing that popped up was Modeling and Acting jobs available in San Diego!!! Curiosity effectively piqued, I clicked again.
...our agency has discovered hundreds of new talent and launched very successful careers in the film and television industry. Don’t just dream about it, do it. Follow your dreams to the Chloe Dillon Modeling and Acting Center. Build confidence as you take classes in Modeling, Acting, and overall personal development. Whether it’s a career or just overall personal enrichment you seek, our centers give you the opportunity to learn about the entertainment industry from a well respected name. We’ve trained many well-known talents and have been launching models and actors into Hollywood and New York City for over twenty years. With our expertise and industry contacts, we can help make your dreams come true. If you’re interested in becoming our next discovery, call us now to sign up for our open audition. Space is limited.
An unexpected sense of urgency hammered in my chest while I called the number. A friendly receptionist with a welcoming voice picked up, and I asked her about the open audition.
“Yes, that’s right. We have an information session this Saturday where you can find out about all of the amazing opportunities that we have available here at our agency. Would you like to reserve a spot?”
“Yes.”
I gave her my name and phone number, but paused for a moment before I confirmed my age. You don’t have to be an expert to know I’m probably a little late to start a modeling or acting career. What if she said I was too old? The ad said all ages welcome, but what did they really mean by all ages?
“I’m twenty-four.”
“Okay great. We’ll put you in our adult group session. So, we’ll see you on Saturday at 1:00 p.m. When you arrive, sign in at the front desk and we’ll get you started.”
Three days later, I’m staring at my reflection, wondering what I’m getting myself into and why. It takes me five minutes to get there. The closer I get to the high-rise building, the more anxious I become. I walk into the lobby, locate the agency suite on the directory, and take the elevator up to the fifteenth floor. The doors slide open and a pretty receptionist greets me at the front desk.
The décor is super sleek and modern. All the chairs are black with chrome accents and the straight edged, heavily lacquered minimalist furniture is white. Three flat screen TV’s mounted on three different walls show footage of fashion shows featuring waif-like models with a dead look in their eyes. Wall racks stuffed with fashion magazines line one wall, and another is covered in framed magazine ads, runway photos and actor head shots. Techno music blares from the sound system and the overall vibe is very upbeat and hip. Over to the right, a handful of people sit in the waiting area, reading magazines and chatting. Most of them look to be teenagers with their parents. I feel so incredibly awkward and out of place, I want to turn around and run back to the elevator. Instead, I smile at the receptionist and tell her my name.
“Okay, Alexis, I have you signed in. You can have a seat in the waiting area. We’re going to get started in about five minutes.”
I grab a magazine from one of the side tables and nervously flip through the pages. It’s the Fresh Faces edition of Glamour. Bella James got a call from her agent about an audition for a no name Netflix series shopped around and rejected by all the major networks. She called in sick to her catering job, got the part and is now rolling in the dough as a series regular on an Emmy nominated series. I realize it’s a total character flaw on my part but reading these stories of unknown, struggling artists rising to fame and fortune is always slightly annoying and never fails to make me feel inadequate because things like that don’t happen to regular people. Bella James is not a regular person.
Several others arrive at the front desk to check in. Among them are a couple of kids that appear to be elementary school age. I feel like a fool as the room fills up with children.
Please, let there be someone else my age. As if on cue, a tall, slim, leggy blonde walks in with hair cascading down her back. She’s wearing a pair of leopard print flats, maroon skinny jeans, and a long sleeved, off the shoulder, loose fitting tunic top. I can barely make out her telling the receptionist her name is Sabrina. She comes over and sits next to me. We briefly make eye contact and smile at each other before she takes her phone out of her purse. Suddenly, I’m even more self-conscious then I was before, sitting next to this chic, well dressed girl. And, is it me or did she glance down at my shoes? Chances are it’s not because she thinks they’re cool. Next to her, I feel like an oompa loompa munchkin in a potato sack, but at least now I’m not the only one who looks older than high school age.
I take out my phone too and start scrolling Instagram to pass the time and detract from that fish out of water feeling. @BaileySueKnight, blogger and fashion muse extraordinaire, is at 20,203 likes for her latest shiny lipped, pouty selfie. Her porcelain skinned, filtered face is framed by a dark mass of extension filled hair, topped with caterpillar thick eyebrows. I like it and the count magically jumps to 21,004.
An attractive, well-dressed woman walks to the front of the waiting area and introduces herself. “Hello, my name is Lori Grady and I’m the director here at the Chloe Dillon Modeling and Acting Center. Thank you all for coming. We’re going to separate you into groups and give you a brief orientation on what we do here. After that, we’re going to take Polaroid pictures. Our staff will do a one on one consultation with each of you to determine what your goals are and what we can do to help you reach them.” She calls out two sets of names and directs each group towards different conference rooms. The adult group is anyone who is fourteen and up.
I take a deep breath, telling myself that I may be totally out of my element, but at least I don’t look like one of the moms. I’ve always looked younger than I actually am. Thanks to genetics, I’m blind as a bat but at least I got some good stuff too. My mom looks about a good ten years younger than her actual age, and I can still pass for a teenager sometimes, depending on what I’m wearing.
We are split into two groups, and Sabrina and I end up sitting next to each other again over in conference room B. There are about fifteen of us, and once everyone is seated, they show us a promotional video about the agency. As one smiling face after the other flashes across the screen, I realize I desperately want to be one of them. I want to be beautiful, happy, and successful. Chloe Dillon students gain confidence and poise, and some even go on to exciting careers in the entertainment industry. After the fifteen-minute video is over, their excellent marketing strategy has worked—I’m actually starting to believe I can train to be a model or at least look like one. Starting with the front of the room, she begins calling individuals out to do their Polaroids and individual consultations.
“So, what brings you here?” Sabrina says to me.
“It looks like fun?” My answer comes out as a question. I shrug my shoulders. “How ‘bout you?”
“I’m tall, so people have always told me I should be a model, but frankly, I’ve never wanted to. I don’t really see why everyone dreams about being a model. I mean, so they look good and they make a lot of money but you don’t have to be a model to do either.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m all about keeping my options open, though, so I figured what the heck, I’ll find out what all the fuss is about. So, do you live around here?” she asks me. “I’m downtown.”
“I’m not too far from you then. North Park,” I reply. “But I’m actually looking for a new place right now.”
“Ugh...moving sucks.”
I roll my eyes and nod my head in agreement, thinking about all the junk I have accumulated and still need to sift through before the move.
“Why are you moving?”
I figure I’ll give her the short version. “Well, my fiancé and I broke up, so I’m getting my own place.”
“How long were you together?” she asks.
“Seven years.”
Her eyes widen and her head jerks back in surprise. “And you’re how old?
“Twenty-four”
“Wow...well, there are a lot of great apartments around here.”
Not in my budget, but I’m sure this stranger doesn’t want to hear my sob story so I keep it to myself. Someone who can dress like that and afford to live downtown probably wouldn’t understand.
“I’m sure I’ll find something great.”
Sabrina sits up straighter and turns to me. “Hey, we should be roommates. You need a place to stay, I’m looking for someone to share rent and you would absolutely adore the condo. It’s huge, and you’d have your own bathroom attached to your room. There’s a huge balcony and it’s within walking distance from the Gaslamp where all the clubs and restaurants are.”
“Uh...Well, I don’t know,” I stammer. She kind of caught me off guard, considering we just met about two seconds ago.
“My roommate got a new job out of town. She gave me like no notice, which totally pisses me off. She’s moving out so unless I find another roommate quick, I can’t afford to stay there by myself for long. It sucks big time because it’s an awesome place. It’d be a shame to have to leave it.”
She looks at me expectantly, and I really don’t know what to say. I don’t know this girl. She could turn out to be some kind of Single White Female freak, and I might not find out until it’s too late. On the other hand, the idea of actually living in a nice condo is very appealing. I’ve seen enough stained linoleum and industrial carpet to last me a lifetime, and I’m so over apartment hunting.
“Well, it sounds pretty nice. I don’t even know if I could afford it, and I’d have to see it of course.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You’ll love it. You can come by today or tomorrow and check it out.”
I nod my head in agreement, still not totally convinced I should even consider this. Before I have a chance to say anything else, she gets called in for her consult and flashes me a bright smile before heading out of the room. A few minutes later, Tami calls me back and leads me down to the end of a long hallway where I’m told to stand in front of a white wall.
“Okay, I’m going to take a close up shot of you, shoulders up, then one in profile. Then, I’ll do a full body shot.”
I don’t know if I’m supposed to smile or not, so I don’t—I stare blankly at the camera. The flash goes off and I turn to the side for the profile shot. When she takes the full body shot, I don’t know what to do with my arms and I’m very aware of them dangling stiffly by my sides. Am I supposed to stand a certain way? Click. The flashbulb goes off, blinding me again. I can’t even be sure if my eyes were open.
“Perfect. Now follow me to my office, right this way.”
I sit down in front of Tami’s desk and sneak a peek out of the corner of my eyes at the Polaroids slowly coming into focus while she launches into her introduction.
“The Chloe Dillon Modeling and Acting Center is one of the best training centers in the nation. We’ve been around since 1977. We find and train people just like you for successful careers in the entertainment industry. We also train people who are just interested in learning more about modeling and acting as a creative outlet and to improve self-confidence. We offer classes in Modeling, Acting, and Personal Development that can help you succeed not just in the entertainment industry but in life as well.”
She pauses for a moment.
“So why are you here? Tell me what your goals are.”
I don’t know why I’m on this planet, let alone here. I’ve been myself for over two decades, and I still don’t know who I am.
“I’m searching for something...I just haven’t figured out what it is I’m looking for.”
“That’s okay. You came to the right place,” she says with a big smile, folding her hands across the desk in front of her. “You have great potential. You have a good look and you’re articulate and outgoing.”
I don’t actually believe I’m any of those things, or that anything she’s seen from me necessarily demonstrates those qualities. I quickly see this as less of an audition and more of a sales pitch. I want to believe her, but she probably says that to everyone who walks in the door.
She goes on to show me which classes are offered. Most of them are in the afternoon and evenings to accommodate school and work schedules. I can sign up for an acting, modeling and personal development combo package or pick and choose which of those I want to participate in. If I pick one area, the sessions are longer but the combo pack is designed to give a more condensed version of all areas. I like it that they don’t make any promises of future stardom, but they do claim it’s possible and that many of their students are working actors and models right now.
“Do you have any questions?” Tami asks me.
Yes, I do. The most obvious question that wasn’t covered in the ad on their slick website or the video they showed is how much all of this personal enrichment and possible success is going to cost me.
“Do you have a price list of all of your classes?”
“Yes, we sure do,” she replies, pulling out a brochure and circling the combo course package. “A lot of people just want to take the modeling and acting, but we really do recommend taking the personal development course as well because it builds a strong foundation for everything else. We offer a ten percent discount to those who sign up for all three. It meets twice a week for two and a half hours on Monday and Wednesday or Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and each session runs for twelve weeks with a different focus every four weeks.”
I can pay it all up front, monthly or bi-weekly. It’s $450 per focus area. With my ten percent discount, it would be $1,215 for the whole session.
“How are the classes divided up? How many adults usually sign up?”
“We really do have a wide range of ages, and it really just depends on the session. Sometimes we have no adults and other times we might have five. The adults are grouped with high school age and up.”
Well, that’s a relief—sort of. At least I know I won’t have to practice my runway walk with an eight-year-old. But still, I do feel kind of silly being in a class with teenagers.
I need to be out of my apartment by next month. I don’t even have a place to live yet. Is now really the time to be spending $1,200 on something so trivial? I glance over at the Polaroids now fully formed. So much for this so called potential Tami claims I have. My face looks too round and my mouth is hanging open. I’m not some starry-eyed teenager begging her parents to fork over the money for this, and I know Tami just wants a sale so she isn’t going to be honest about what my actual potential really is.
“So, what do you think?” Tami asks me.
“Well, I really am interested, but I need to decide if this is something I can fit into my budget right now.”
“Of course. We’d love to have you come and work with us, so just let us know. Take this packet with you. It goes into more detail about the classes. The next twelve-week session starts in January, after the holidays.”
“Okay. Sounds good. I’ll be in touch.” I shake her hand.
“So, what do you do with the Polaroids?”
“Well, we really hope you do decide to join us. If you do, we’ll take pictures at the end of your session so you can see how far you’ve come.”
I’m really doubtful about how far I can go, but something inside me is curious about finding out. I head out to the waiting room, where only a few people remain. I wonder who took the plunge and forked over all the money. I wonder if Sabrina did. I don’t see her so she must have already left, which is just fine. I can’t believe she was actually serious about offering a room for rent in her apartment to a total stranger.
I’m an adult with adult bills and adult responsibilities. I don’t know what I was even thinking by coming here, but on the other hand, what if? Why not me? I mean, you hear stories about her—whispered tales of glory and the luck of a girl who floats above the Earth in another orbit. The girl who gets the guy and is swept off her feet in a whirlwind of diamonds and jet setting dream dates sealing the deal with a kiss so beautiful it brings tears to your eyes. The lucky girl from small-town USA who waits tables at a seedy diner in a thankless, low paying job only to strike it rich with the pull of a Vegas slot machine. The girl who gets the part and is suddenly catapulted into a glamorous life of fame and fortune—her life forever changed. Graced with something so idyllic and perfect, it nearly takes your breath away.
Ding. The elevator doors screech open, jarring me out of my reverie. The rhythmic throbbing in my head returns.
It happens, but you have to wonder what happened in the prologue before fortune shined upon her, and how the story goes after the glitter settles into the cracks. Is she more deserving than any other, and in a million years, could I ever be that girl? Then you drop back down to Earth where the everyday folks plod along, clawing and scratching for every gain with the thudding realization: life is not a fairy tale. No fairy god mother will sprinkle her magical fairy dust upon your upturned smiling face. No knight in shining armor will save you.
Modeling schools are an overpriced waste of time. These places prey on dreams and desire, selling lies to stage mothers and teenage wannabe’s desperate to lodge their foot in the door of fame and fortune. They also prey on those who are lost. I don’t belong here.
