MATTHEW MORIARTY: They Just Want Me for My Body
If you listen to the so-called experts, they will tell you that you have to be fit and good-looking to be a male model. I'm proving them wrong.
Last week was my second modeling gig. I appeared in the fashion show at the Fair Barn to benefit the Tufts Archives and Given Memorial Library.
I got roped into the show because my mother happens to run both the archives and the library. I remember her asking me to take part in it. I'm pretty sure I told her I would think about it. The next thing I knew, I was being measured.
I confess, it was a lot of fun.
Chris Dalrymple, owner of the Gentlemen's Corner in Pinehurst, dressed me in some of his finest clothing -- so fine that I was paranoid enough about spilling something that it took me a good 30 seconds before hitting the bar.
I changed into my clothes in a dressing room in the back of the Fair Barn. Chris put me in a white shirt with a spread collar, a multi-colored tie in a full-Windsor knot, an orange cashmere vest with a mock turtleneck and zipper, gray slacks and a dark blue blazer. The tie was my favorite part of the outfit.
I wore my own shoes, a dark brown pair of Kenneth Coles that I splurged on last year and intend to keep for the rest of my life.
The finishing touch was an orange and gold pocket square that Chris had poofed out. Normally, I would never wear a pocket square that was anything besides square, because, you know, I got class. But it was for charity, so I went with it.
Staring at the full-length mirror in the dressing room, I had to admit I looked good.
Next to me was Kirk Bell, changing into an orange tie and a Barney-the-dinosaur purple blazer.
"Where did you park your Caddy?" I asked.
"I feel like I should wear a big fur hat with a feather in it," he said.
The atmosphere for the show was really laid back. There wasn't a runway (thank God), but there was a stage. I can't tell you how many people sang the Right Said Fred song, "I'm Too Sexy," to me. They were hilarious.
A couple of people from The Pilot (I'm withholding their names to protect the guilty) tried to get me to use my influence to help them cut into the food line.
"What do I know about food?" I said. "I'm a model. We don't eat. We smoke cigarettes."
Soon enough, it came time to spring into action. I went backstage and tried to listen to our emcees, Tom Stewart and Jim Dodson, make fun of each other.
Several of us male models were milling around. We each had a female partner outfitted in some of the best new dresses from The Clothes Horse. The women went on stage, followed shortly by the men.
They called my name at about the middle of the pack. When I got on stage, I couldn't much see with the spotlight in my eyes. I'm grateful to a large and presumably alcohol-plied cheering section near the back to help me overcome my nervousness. I smiled sheepishly and waved.
Standing in front of that crowd full of judgment was much harder than my first modeling gig, appearing in an advertisement for The Pilot Broadband.
You may have seen that picture of a young lady sitting on a bench at the Morganton Road Soccer Complex, surfing the net while a guy with a developing paunch looks on from behind.
I'm that paunch. Katherine Evans, our immensely talented intern, accompanied me in the ad.
We really had to dig deep and use all of our modeling talents to hide the fact that it was freeeeezing out there. The photographer was yelling at me, "You're a monkey, Derek," with "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood on in the background.
Katherine said that her parents put the ad up on their refrigerator. Success, thy name is refrigerator door.
All in all, I've had a good time modeling, and I've managed to avoid any tragic gasoline-fight accidents.
Matthew Moriarty may be contacted at 693-2479 or by e-mail at email@example.com.
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