Secrets of the Model Dorm by Amanda Kerlin & Phil Oh

Author:Amanda Kerlin & Phil Oh
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2007-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

JEANETTE’S DEPARTURE TO BIGGER and better things, along with my job at the Clijsters Gallery, marked the beginning of a new stage in the model dorm for me. Outside, on the streets of the city, winter began its assault on New Yorkers, forcing everyone to scurry faster than ever, bundled up in scarves, hats, and full-length jackets, millions of different destinations for millions of different people. Inside the apartment, Kylie, Svetlana, and I were starting to realize that far from being short-timers, we were becoming the de facto model dorm veterans, a dubious honor, at best. The stuffy apartment, which seemed a million miles from the glitz and glamour of what we should have been doing as models, came to be our fate in life for the time. And every month on our accounts the Agency would mark up another $2,000, along with all the other charges we mysteriously managed to incur, which I began to think were total bullshit—I mean $400 for Internet booking charges? For what? But I didn’t dare question anyone at the Agency, remembering Rachel’s wrath. Laura was probably back home, waiting tables, having to avoid the wandering hands of the beefy lumberjacks of her hometown in remote Canada as she sashayed between the tables with plates full of flapjacks and sausage patties.

The job at the gallery was a welcome break from the model dorm. Instead of wasting away my free time suffering in the apartment, I earned a decent wage greeting gallery visitors, answering phones, and accompanying Willem to the occasional art opening. Always a gentleman, he never forgot to tell me how much he appreciated my being there. Sometimes we’d talk about different artists, and I began to learn a lot about contemporary art. I liked being at the space—it relaxed me. I’d told Kylie and Svetlana about my job, and how excited I was to be mixing it up in the art world, but they’d reacted as if I’d told them something as banal as: “The sun is shining somewhat today,” or “I just saved ten cents by buying a pack of gum from the other deli across the street.” They couldn’t have cared less about anything outside of the fashion world and its siren call.

The only problem with my job at Willem’s was that I still felt some of the others in that circle didn’t respect me. If there was an event, or I went out for drinks with Willem and Daniel and some of their friends, and someone asked what I did, besides being a receptionist, they’d sort of nod, like “Oh, I have you figured out. You’re just a model.” But Willem’s talks with me let me know he considered me more than eye candy—plus he never hit on me. I treated him like a quirky older brother who just happened to dress in tailored French suits and who wheeled and dealed in million-dollar pieces of art. And even though I didn’t want to answer phones and greet people for

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