1. My first photoshoot...
Vogue Nippon???
Nope... and to be clear I wasn't actually in the shoot either - between you and I, I refused... No I'm not joking *cue awkward silence* ... moving on.
The photoshoot was for a friend's new boxer range. It's his first company so instead of going to the likes of SELECT, STORM, MODELS1 or MYSELF and shelling out thousands for some top models he decided to accost attractive people on the street, well that was the idea anyway... (much harder to find than you would think, not so many buff bodied campaign ready men in London town - If it were that easy I would be having far more sex that I currently am... )
I digress.
In his desperation, he asked me if I would like to help him scout some hotness in the Abercromie and Fitch in Burlington avenue.
Abercromie is officially THE WORLDS MOST RIDICULOUS STORE ever -90s Euro trash club anthems blaring, eau de abercromie nasty pumped into the air conditioning to confuse masses ... how else would one explain the fact that people actually buying any of crap they sell, like really really?
Between amusing ourselves by asking the go-go dancers (yes hey have go-go dancers in there???) if they were given 'amphetamines to rub on their gums' to keep them dancing for 8 hours and whether we could see the 'one-armed woman'we gave up on the Abercrombie 'hotness' because frankly being in the store was far to stressful.
In the end my friend went with 'real models' who needed to fill their books - I popped down for support and also to lend some slutty dresses for the cause...
A room full of models and I fancied the photographer with the porno moustache.
Go figure.
I got an invite from a very good graphic designer friend asking me to attend the launch of her new studio which happens to be on a boat. the address read:
XXX tube station and then follow the red fishies!!!
The red fishes, happened to be spray painted on the street - following them was far more fun that it should have been for anyone over the age of five... Yes, I was skipping, giggling, pointing, and squealing with delight everytime I spotted one...
I went to see the understudy run of Hamlet as a very good friend is playing the 'other' [understudy to the actual] Ophelia in the play... Shakespeare - not actually my thing, but after about 10 mins, you begin to forget the 'thou arts' and all of the rest of the old English crazy talk to understand what was going on, and it was actually quite incredible (my opinion not at all swayed by the sexualness of the [other] leading man).
After the show there was an hour of chatting and drinks before my friend had to go back on stage alongside Jude Law in the actual show - (in a different role)... so the rest of the posse and I decided to busy ourselves before picking her up at 11.15pm at the stage doors
We went for some mussels at Belgo...
then some drinks,
then some more drinks and where quite plastered wehn we rocked up to the stage doors at about 11.20pm to screams of
'Marry me'
...being so drunk for a second I thought they were talking to me.
They weren't.
they were talking to him.
I didn't realised that I was a fan... in fact I'm not.
However whenever I come within a 5 mile radius of A-list celeb male all I become THE screaming teenage fan-groupie-hysterically-uncool FAN much to the dismay of my friend who sees him EVERYSINGLEDAY (arrghh).
My friends had to tempt me away with offers of champagne...
I got drunk as I didn't get Jude.
Blah
MM x x x x