Status: Contest Entry =)
My Vintage Skirt and Me
1/1
I put my camera on the self timer and posed myself against the wall of my closet, throwing on my sunglasses last minuet. I threw my hands in the air and pretended to rock out to my favorite song, each time the flash went off I felt like something was missing from this make shift set. I pretended to be sad and mad, even happy once but nothing felt right. This was my only chance to get to my head shots sent into the agency and I couldn't take a good picture? Karma must have had it out for me this day. I teased my hair and faked a pouty face, I even stooped so low to make fish lips. Nothing was working out and every picture turned out just as bad as the other one. My dreams of becoming a model were slipping out of my grasp as the clock slowly struck 2. The deadline was at four and I had less than thirty minuets to take the best picture of my life and make it downtown during rush hour traffic.
Maybe it was my outfit, maybe the jeans and low cut shirt were over-rated and this was fate telling me so. I quickly tore off my clothes and looked through my closest for anything that was better than showing off skin, and then it hit me. Go vintage. That was in anyways and it was so much more simpler than trying to find the right boots to go with the pair of jeans anyways. I ran to my box of skirts and squealed as I found my mothers favorite skirt from back in her younger days. I pulled up my black curly hair and threw my sunglasses back on as I set the camera back on self timer, praying to myself that this was the answer to problems. After a countless set of bad pictures nothing was working, and I felt that sense of disappointment settle in. There was nothing I wanted more in the world than to be a model, and this skirt had seen me through my worst. At one point it was the only piece of clothing I owned while I tried to survive as a model back in Los Angeles, this and a white shirt with black knee highs. I put my hands in the pockets of the skirt and felt something cool brush against my fingers. The happiness I felt right now couldn't be matched, I knew this was going to be a perfect shot.
I threw open the bag of clothes that I brought back from the streets, frantically looking for my white shirt and black knee highs. I'm sure they smelt of musk and the smoke of my room mate but I didn't care, besides its not like they can smell pictures. I quickly changed into my outfit and pulled out my long gold necklace that had inspired my perfect photo. I looked in the mirror and sighed as my outfit didn't pull of the right look. My colorful bright thigh high skirt just sat there with boring white shirt and my oddly looking black socks. I threw the entry sheet across the room and groaned in anger when it slowly floated no more than five feet away from it's original place. I walked back over to my floor length mirror and put all my weight to one side of my body, slowly tracing over my stomach. Something had to go there, something just had to connect these things together, but what. I didn't own any belts and a string just wouldn't look right. I quickly ran over to my room mates side of the apartment and threw my hands up in victory when I realized she had left her big black on the floor, clean or not I needed that belt.
I took picture after picture and felt the urge to scream at the top of my lungs that I was going to be a model. I smoothed down my colorful skirt and smiled as I whispered a quick 'thank you' to it. This skirt would be the reason my dream came true, this skirt I would forever owe everything too. I would never wear this skirt ever again I would frame it and hang it in the middle of my new house so everyone could see the object that made my dreams comes true. This would be the story I would tell magazines about and this skirt was all to thank. The way it would sway and slowly lift up as a gust of wind swept over me, and all the adventures I had in this one piece of clothing. This was the skirt that made things happen in my life. This skirt was the thing that got me my apartment, this was the thing that got me my camera, this skirt brought me closer to my Mother while she was so far away. Now I knew deep in my heart this skirt would make my dream come true.
I looked over at the clock and realized I didn't have any time left to change, I had to leave now if I was going to make the deadline. I looked over at the address and ran out of my apartment as fast as I could. Nothing was going to stop me from making this dream come true. I tucked my pictures into the pockets of my vintage skirt and pushed my way around people, and yelling move as I ran as fast as I could to the place. Finally I reached the place, a panting and sweaty mess. I leaned against the door catching my breath as I searched my pockets for the pictures, and held back the need to scream when I suddenly remembered that pockets had holes. Tears struck my eyes as I run my hand down my face, the sweat falling down my cheeks and dropping to the hot floor.
"Cute skirt." A lady commented.
I looked up from the floor and felt my breath hitch in my throat. "You... you run this modeling agency." I stammered out.
"Yes I do, and I love your look. That skirt is just to cute. Come in and have a talk with me, we've got an opening and well I think you're the perfect match for us."
I smoothed down the skirt and felt the smile return. I owed everything to this skirt, and it would forever be in my life for such great moments like this one.
Maybe it was my outfit, maybe the jeans and low cut shirt were over-rated and this was fate telling me so. I quickly tore off my clothes and looked through my closest for anything that was better than showing off skin, and then it hit me. Go vintage. That was in anyways and it was so much more simpler than trying to find the right boots to go with the pair of jeans anyways. I ran to my box of skirts and squealed as I found my mothers favorite skirt from back in her younger days. I pulled up my black curly hair and threw my sunglasses back on as I set the camera back on self timer, praying to myself that this was the answer to problems. After a countless set of bad pictures nothing was working, and I felt that sense of disappointment settle in. There was nothing I wanted more in the world than to be a model, and this skirt had seen me through my worst. At one point it was the only piece of clothing I owned while I tried to survive as a model back in Los Angeles, this and a white shirt with black knee highs. I put my hands in the pockets of the skirt and felt something cool brush against my fingers. The happiness I felt right now couldn't be matched, I knew this was going to be a perfect shot.
I threw open the bag of clothes that I brought back from the streets, frantically looking for my white shirt and black knee highs. I'm sure they smelt of musk and the smoke of my room mate but I didn't care, besides its not like they can smell pictures. I quickly changed into my outfit and pulled out my long gold necklace that had inspired my perfect photo. I looked in the mirror and sighed as my outfit didn't pull of the right look. My colorful bright thigh high skirt just sat there with boring white shirt and my oddly looking black socks. I threw the entry sheet across the room and groaned in anger when it slowly floated no more than five feet away from it's original place. I walked back over to my floor length mirror and put all my weight to one side of my body, slowly tracing over my stomach. Something had to go there, something just had to connect these things together, but what. I didn't own any belts and a string just wouldn't look right. I quickly ran over to my room mates side of the apartment and threw my hands up in victory when I realized she had left her big black on the floor, clean or not I needed that belt.
I took picture after picture and felt the urge to scream at the top of my lungs that I was going to be a model. I smoothed down my colorful skirt and smiled as I whispered a quick 'thank you' to it. This skirt would be the reason my dream came true, this skirt I would forever owe everything too. I would never wear this skirt ever again I would frame it and hang it in the middle of my new house so everyone could see the object that made my dreams comes true. This would be the story I would tell magazines about and this skirt was all to thank. The way it would sway and slowly lift up as a gust of wind swept over me, and all the adventures I had in this one piece of clothing. This was the skirt that made things happen in my life. This skirt was the thing that got me my apartment, this was the thing that got me my camera, this skirt brought me closer to my Mother while she was so far away. Now I knew deep in my heart this skirt would make my dream come true.
I looked over at the clock and realized I didn't have any time left to change, I had to leave now if I was going to make the deadline. I looked over at the address and ran out of my apartment as fast as I could. Nothing was going to stop me from making this dream come true. I tucked my pictures into the pockets of my vintage skirt and pushed my way around people, and yelling move as I ran as fast as I could to the place. Finally I reached the place, a panting and sweaty mess. I leaned against the door catching my breath as I searched my pockets for the pictures, and held back the need to scream when I suddenly remembered that pockets had holes. Tears struck my eyes as I run my hand down my face, the sweat falling down my cheeks and dropping to the hot floor.
"Cute skirt." A lady commented.
I looked up from the floor and felt my breath hitch in my throat. "You... you run this modeling agency." I stammered out.
"Yes I do, and I love your look. That skirt is just to cute. Come in and have a talk with me, we've got an opening and well I think you're the perfect match for us."
I smoothed down the skirt and felt the smile return. I owed everything to this skirt, and it would forever be in my life for such great moments like this one.
♠ ♠ ♠
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