A Day In the Life of a Model…#7! Lying About My Age!
I rarely lie about my age, but the trouble is that if the client knows your real age, they just don’t book you. It doesn’t matter that I can look 21 or 31: if the brief says 18-21, or 30+, I am not allowed in the club.
However, knowing what a terrible lier I am, my booker rarely tells me to tell porkies about my age. But there was a big casting, so I was told to go a bit lower than the truth…
I went in, and was surrounded by older models with their kids, which was good as it immediately made me look younger with my Science Museum backpack and fringe. I filled in my form, jotting down my lie as my nose grew bigger and bigger.
There was a chap there I started chatting to, not realising that he was the photographer. So instead of talking about recent high profile shoots and classy activities, I commented on how many likes my photo of my feeding a dying bumblebee was getting on Instagram.
This seemed like a good opportunity to start talking at him about how indicator species are dying in their masses. I went to get my picture of me dressed as a bee keeper, protesting outside Parliament, but it was my time to be photographed for the casting.
As I came out, the chap who I was ranting at about bees said, “Do I know you? I think I shot you a while ago. It’s bugging me”
“No, can’t remember I’m afraid!” I said as I waltzed out of there into the chilly London drizzle, pleased with the casting and them swallowing my fibs.
My phone rang. Was itt was Igor, telling me off? I wasn’t wearing skinny jeans and a black top. How did he know?! I answered. “Hi, this is the photographer from the casting. I got your number from the form. I remember you! I shot you for Nylon Magazine by a burnt out car!”
So either he shot me when I was an embryo, or the ONE TIME I decided to lie I had been foiled!
Oh well, at least I got to see the photos at long last!
Pics by Will Sanders
Rebecca Pearson x