The day that never ended, part two

As soon as the Eva Minge show was over, I jumped out of my seat and ran behind the stage (which I have to admit was pretty cool since everyone else went out the front doors and watched as I flashed my pass to follow the models). Luckily, cleanup was just about done by the time the show finished, so I got to skip out on that. At this point, I'm still under the impression that my night is just about over, and I can take a nice warm shower and crawl into bed.

As I'm imagining myself in sweats and comfy in bed, Cesar comes up to me and asks me to assist him on another shoot, this time for a style book, on the upper east side. It's for the Jad Ghandour show a few days later. Why not, I figure.

Cesar, his boyfriend, Mark, and myself crowd into a cab with all of our luggage and fly over to the shoot. It's located in a studio apartment in a seemingly seedy neighborhood--the streets are completely packed with thousands of motorcycles from a 9/11 ride. It was a pretty cool sight. It's about 12am now and none of us have eaten since 10am and we're all dying. We run up the stairs and set up some of our stuff and then Mark and I embark on a small journey to find some food before we all pass out. A turkey sandwich never tasted so good.

When we return to the apartment, there are about 20 people there; models, photographers, Jad Ghandour himself, and Kithe Brewster, the diva from earlier in the day.

Kithe is in the center-
he kind of looks like mix between
Jay-Z and RevRun

At this point, I'm delirious and exhausted, but catch a second wind and watch what's going on around me. This gorgeous model is getting her hair done and telling us weird stories about trying to pick up prostitutes for fun.

She laughs as she tells us her stories, and when she laughs, she throws her head back and howls. We all laugh and I don't know if it was because of the story or because of her reaction to it. For the first time this week, everything seems like it's in slow motion. Her head is back, Cesar is behind her with his hands in her hair and he's laughing as well. There's a thick film of cigarette smoke in the air and everyone's eyes are bloodshot from exhaustion, drugs, and smoke. Al Green is playing in the background and people are dancing, Mark and I exchange a look and smile. I feel like this is home for a second. I like the commotion, the insanity, the weird people, and the responsibility. I like having a million things to do each minute, and doing them well. I like being respected and actually being passionate about what I'm doing. I have finally regained motivation and I'm relieved. Everything is going to be ok.

Yuliana, in-between telling
ridiculous stories and chain-smoking cigarettes

I no longer feel uncomfortable when the models strip down completely naked in front of everyone and walk around, proud of their skeletal bodies. Jad Ghandour, the nicest of all designers I have met, comes up to me, puts his arm around me, and asks my name. I smile and tell him and he kisses me on the cheek saying he hopes to see me around more. He says he likes my innocence. It wasn't creepy at all, honestly.

While I'm spaced out on the couch, something catches my eye. I look over to the other side of the room and  a tall Japanese model is searching through her bag, she's obviously frustrated. I've watched her on and off throughout the night. She is very sweet, but getting anxious because she's having trouble communicating with everyone. I walk up to her because I can tell she needs something.

Tsubasa Watanabe,
stressing out over tampons..

I ask her what she needs and she explains that she's out of tampons and needs to get some. She's six feet tall, her hair is in rollers, and she's wearing a designer dress. She wants to walk across the street to 7-eleven and buy tampons and I can't help but laugh. I offer to go get them for her, but I think she's embarrassed and says she wants to go. As she starts walking towards the door, she turns around and asks me to go with her. I look at Cesar and he motions his head towards the door, telling me to go.

Next thing I know, I'm walking down the street with a gorgeous model through a crowd of thousands of leather-wearing and heavily tattooed bikers. Cat calls, whistles, and muffled words overwhelm us as they stare at her. She grabbed my hand, and I looked up at her face and she was definitely scared. I tell her to ignore everything they're saying, I tell her to look right past them. I'm used to feeling out of place, I can tell she is too. As different as we are, for a second, we're so similar.

Hours of hair and pictures go by, and next thing I know it's 4am and I have to be up in four hours. I'm not even stressed about it, because I know that when my alarm goes off tomorrow, I'll be fine. I'll wake up, hop in the shower, and jump right back into the fast-pace life that makes every day feel like a year.