Ni hao, bloggosphere,
I suppose I can’t just let the previous post hang loose. So, sitting here at Starbucks in Qianmen with blueberry muffins and a nice selection of hot beverages under my belt, I thought I’d let you in on what went down:
Alarm-clock went off obnoxiously early on Wednesday. Marco P and I somehow managed to fight the morning haze and made our way down to the fourth floor where Giulia was waiting for us. Giulia is a member of crew Italia and has – according to my own analysis- a genuine artist’s spirit; thus, she wanted to come with us to see the Art District. Afraid we were going to be late for our appointment, we got to where the Chinese adress said we should be in a frenzy. Called the agency’s booker. He was 45 min late. From that moment, it was obvious that this adventure was organized Chinese style. Many foreigners have the impression that Chinese people are efficient and organized. This is the biggest lie since… well, long ago.
Finally, our booker arrived in sweatpants. He just does not give a shit. And this man represents the second biggest modelling agency in Beijing… :S After waiting for 3 h, I was not particularly impressed since I had to be back at Da Xue by 2 to deliver my presentation (which I ran like Chuck Norris btw). Owing to their mild racism, the Chinese guys lined up first, then came the westerners. I asked the booker what the Chinese dudes thought about there being separate lines for white guys and them. The answer was predictably blasé: “They don’t care”. Right.
Anyway, eventuelly we came into the massive building where the casting was being held. That was the moment when things started to look like they do on TV. With my 182 cm’s, I haven’t felt short since 8th grade, but then and there it was obvious that I was, in comparison. From walking though the sea of Asian models, the realization that the race-divide between models is ridiculous was as clear as ever: these dudes were beautiful specimens of homo-sapiens. There is no other word for it. They must have averaged at least 1.90 cm above the sea, looked like Vogue Homme could call them any minute, and probably spend 5 days/ week at the gym. It was obvious: these guys were pros.
The main room was huge. There was a big catwalk and an massive U-formed table where the designers, bookers and fashion exec’s sat. We were lined up in tens, and then: walk-off. It was art in motion. It was what I have seen in different kinds of media, while somehow always doubting its real existance. It was beautiful.
Somewhere, in the middle of it all, Marco and I saw that our agency was handing out preprinted pictures of us to the Big Table. There was this slight hint at feeling like a product. I loved it.
The casting went well, however, we unfortunately didn’t get booked for Fashion Week. I still really appreciated the experience though, and I happily hailed a cab after some tuna salad with Marco and Giulia, headed back to Cheng Fa Da Xue and delivered my air law presentation at 2, which went very well, in my opinion. I realized that it was my first all-individual presentation since starting law at Lund University. How that institution is ranked 71st in the world is… hard to believe. Luckily, I’m enjoying my sweet academic escape right now and the feeling is very rewarding:)