Confessions Part 4: Showtime

Well, it’s time. I now have to go to the Gothic Couture* backstage to get my makeup and hair done. The place is quite secured thanks to 10 huge policemen guarding the entrance like Rottweilers. I feel way better now. I put on my best outfit for the occasion (considering my closet is a small box in my friend’s closet, I have few choices): a plain black hoodie, some green skinny pants that look like horse-riding pants and a pair of UGG boots somebody gave to me.

I find that adorable model I chatted with at the casting and stick with her for the whole time. Backstage is a mess. People are running everywhere, screaming. It’s unbearable. The smell kills me; a mix of perfume and hair spray. I cross the path of the band that is going to play for the show. They are very famous and they look creepy with all that black makeup on. The only quiet place is the catering: tuxedo waiters floating around with trails and drinks, hmmmmmm…. What a nice feeling! I go to makeup and wait for my turn in the tiny salon; I end up touching the Romanian model’s fake boobs she is so proud about, and chat with more girls. Meanwhile, the Brazilian makeup artist is painting the tall Asian’s face.

“How old are you sweetie?” He asks,

“16” she answers in her deep signature voice.

“My GOD, after her, I cannot do anybody’s makeup! She has such a perfect and youthful skin!”

I let escape a little gasp and decide to hide behind the other makeup artist. I would be so ashamed to be in front of the Brazilian, thinking he would say something like:

“Well, THIS is another story… Jeez, girl! Moisturize!”

Fortunately. I get to go with another makeup artist. Makeup is invasive but hair styling is torture. I am happy to do this but I have a hard time dealing with spray smell, hair pulling and bobby pins sticked right into my skull. My hair, nails and makeup are done and it’s already time to put our first outfit on. I didn’t even try all the catering supplies that I have to run to the real backstage already! I find my section: 3 outfits, with my name on it. I am also on the fitting board. I feel so important and cannot stop to read my name wherever I find it. Agata…

Agata… Agata… It sounds like a sexy voice to me. I find it very glamorous to be in a fashion show. Every single model has an assistant. Mine’s name is Lucio. He is going to help me to take off and put on all my outfits. So exciting. After the team screamed and shouted enough, we hear the rock band start the first song. It’s time to begin. The flawless Karina opens the show with grace and calm.

We have to pose and do some rock’n’roll moves onstage. I am number 7. Sounds like a lucky number right? I try to convince myself I am worthy of it. It’s my turn. The coordinator grabs my arm tightly and I have to drink quickly the orange juice I brought down from catering table because I am about to faint. I can already see little stars in my eyes. Oh my god. I am suddenly pushed outside and I feel there is no floor. I walk confidently to the end, do my rock’n’roll face and come back. Wow! That was exciting. I want to go again! One of the designers criticizes my walk and tells me not to open my legs that much. My whole self-confidence disappears.

Outfit number two: I am pushed outside with the usual:

“Go Agata!”

My heels slip a bit on the side, going back backstage. I feel suddenly very hot and cold in the same time. Third outfit:

“Agata go!”

The finale is so beautiful with all the girls outside! I feel I am part of something uncommon and exclusive. I want more! I am ready for the next show.