FREELANCE MODEL – A DAY IN THE LIFE OF
As some of you may know, I've been in the illustrious field of part-time, then full-time and now back to part-time modelling since I was at the fresh age of thirteen. I won’t quite get into what it was really like, or how it affected me growing up, as it would take too long, it’s boring and I’m sure your best guess is pretty close.
As my vanity dictates, I must now show you a picture of myself as a baby model starting out at 13:
Yiker's Island.
Growing up in Hong Kong I had freedom unencumbered by:
Worrying parents (Hong Kong is one of the safest places on the planet
Monetary issues (Working from a young age + $5 a week allowance = $$$)
Not being able to drive (Public transport, y’all!)
This enabled me to really immerse myself in the fashion spectrum of Hong Kong, and I had a blast doing it. Though there is something about Eastern culture that encourages honesty, however brutal. For example, being told “You’re too fat for this job” at fourteen or fifteen can be a little jarring but you get used to it.
These days I’m not really sure what the world’s view of models is from so long on the inside of the industry, cocooned in a world of prestige, beauty, anxiety, cigarettes, fashion, more anxiety, free alcohol, gorgeous racially ambiguous Amazonian women, etc.
It wasn’t all bad and it wasn't all good, but it was completely mad and I wanted to share with you an average workday for me when I was a busy bumblebee model in Hong Kong.
7:00am: Alarm goes off.
7:45am: Actually drag my body from my warm bed, still wrapped in my duvet as I slink around the house collecting cereal and brushing my teeth.
8:00am: Start on makeup.
8:15am: Get fed up trying to do makeup properly, go au natural (but not without sporting a cheeky kittycat eyeliner flick).
9:00am: After finding something appropriate to wear I’m already late to my first casting. I throw on some heels and completely forget the promise I made to my feet to bring along flats this time.
9:45am: Fifteen minutes late to my first casting, and considering how much the factory buildings in Chai Wan look alike, I’m pretty pleased with myself that I found it at all. Unfortunately, after ambitiously walking from the train station to the studio, my feet hurt and I’m flustered and shiny.
9:46am: They ask me for my composite card. I’ve forgotten it like an idiot, but luckily my agent is there to save the day with a backup.
9:47-50am: Dirty looks from my agent.
9:50am: Why are all of the girls here 7 feet tall? And Russian? And chiseled? And have perfect skin and huge blue eyes that pierce the soul? I do my part (try on the clothes, take some snaps, “can you look more ‘cool’?”) and get out of there grumbling about how I definitely haven’t got the job.
10:00am: Cigarette time! One of the shamelessly gorgeous Euro-models comes down and joins me for a smoke and a brief conversation that neither of us are really that into. She smokes slim, long cigarettes.
10:15am: Stoked for my next shoot, I hop back on the MTR and zigzag across Hong Kong to get to Kwai Chung for more photos and more factory buildings.
10:45am: Get to the shoot early, grab a sandwich and bubble tea (珍珠奶茶). There’s no one in the factory building (that I can see) and I wander through the large hallways looking for the studio.
10:50am: Actually find the studio. The studio itself, and everyone in it, is stylish and sleek. I’m whisked into hair and makeup. The makeup artist has amazing colours in her hair and usually smells nice. We talk about my pale skin and her purple extensions.
11am-1pm: You guessed it, folks. THAT’S HOW LONG IT TAKES TO GET ME TO LOOK NATURAL. #iwokeuplikethis
1pm – 7pm: This is go time. All my training (which is none) and all my skills (I don’t have any) are put into play here and now. When I first started modelling I posed like a stick insect (awkward, I guess? Don’t actually know anything about stick insects) but now I’ve got my go-to moves and it doesn’t usually take long for the photographer and I to work out a system and rapport. Music is playing and I know on average one song every hour. I should get to choose the music, I think. Many shoots have a similar structure, maybe one or two makeup changes, a flurry of different outfits, and the quick clicks of the photographer’s camera.
I’d just like to cut in here to say that I’m sure many are under the notion that models are spoiled rotten, in a cushy profession in which you are pampered and meticulously primped, with the team of creatives at your beck and call. While there is an element of pampering, models are by no means the star of the show and (should) act accordingly. Photo-shoots require a huge amount of collaboration and work and it’s usually someone’s heart and soul going into the artwork of the clothes, the makeup, the hair, the photos, the styling, the retouching, etc. As a professional model you work hard to help their ideas come to fruition and immortalize their talents. It’s not the most physically and certainly not the most mentally demanding line of work there is, but those who are good at it, or want to be good at it, do work hard.
7pm: Quittin’ time. I’ve really glossed over the bonding that goes on during a shoot. The end of the shoot is usually (always) followed by a group photo, a jumping group photo and a silly face group photo. Promises to work together again are made, hugs and goodbyes take place and then we’re all back on the MTR.
I’ve met some amazing people, made some unbelievably talented and kind friends, lost a few out of vanity and generally being an angry teenager, but I wouldn’t be the person I am today without having done modelling. So, I suppose, I’m lucky to have had the opportunity, though if I had the power to go back and change my decision to enter the modelling bubble, I’m not sure what I would do.