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The fashion show is finally over, thank goodness. Even when they're in my own city, they're a total time suck. But the night wasn't without its entertainment value.
As I walked to the club, a bald dude halloed me with, "You must be Russian!"
"Um, excuse me?"
"I said, you must be from Russia."
"Nooo...."
"Ah, then you must be Polish, right?"
"No. Actually, I'm Inuit."
He scratched at his pate for a moment, smiled, and said, "Oh yes! They're from Holland, right?"
...
I wore two dresses at the show tonight. Neither of them showed my arse. This lovely green dress is the second gown I wore. I can't find the first dress anywhere online, but if all goes well, there shall be pictures.
I was always on the cusp of a wardrobe malfunction with the green gown. I think it was designed to fit someone broader across the shoulders. Whenever I lowered a shoulder, the dress would shoot precipitously off me in that direction. The whole time I modelled the dress, I kept my arms up nice and high, tribal- or flamenco-style. Who'd have thought I'd need dance skills to model a gown?
And it's a good thing I can dance. And that![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adianta, the woman modelling with me, could dance, too. We ended up standing together on the stage all by ourselves for a good thirty seconds or more until the other models finally joined us. In that time, I did a lot of standing isolations. With my arms up nice and high. Go figure.
I suspect the fact thatadianta and I are dancers has something to do with us being chosen to play the part of wood nymphs for that last song. We gallivanted about and sprinkled fistfuls of glitter all over the freaking place. I still don't know if that last set was good or just plain weird. It was certainly chaotic, with ice queens and demon queens and wood nymphs and minuet-dancing couples and zombie beauty queens staggering around, crashing into one another. It was almost like being at the Jillina workshop all over again! Heh....
The first dress I wore is a strappy long gown in black with a front panel of rosy claret. As I did my little turn on the catwalk, I stopped and struck poses at several points. On one of those points, I found myself looking directly at a guy who may have had a mullet (or maybe his hair was pulled back to resemble one). I held my pose and my smile, and then I had the horrid realization that this guy seemed to think that just because I was looking at him and smiling, that I must want him.
No matter, though. I only held the pose for four seconds, then moved on.
But at the end of the night, after I finished a pose for the photographer, I walked back toward the change room and the mullet man reached over and very firmly groped my belly. I couldn't even put my arms down to do anything about it, because then I would have been half naked and there's no way I wanted to reward that unasked-for gropeage. Gah!
It was a relief to put on my homely street clothes. No stranger's ever successfully groped me while I've been wearing those.
As I walked to the club, a bald dude halloed me with, "You must be Russian!"
"Um, excuse me?"
"I said, you must be from Russia."
"Nooo...."
"Ah, then you must be Polish, right?"
"No. Actually, I'm Inuit."
He scratched at his pate for a moment, smiled, and said, "Oh yes! They're from Holland, right?"
...
I wore two dresses at the show tonight. Neither of them showed my arse. This lovely green dress is the second gown I wore. I can't find the first dress anywhere online, but if all goes well, there shall be pictures.
I was always on the cusp of a wardrobe malfunction with the green gown. I think it was designed to fit someone broader across the shoulders. Whenever I lowered a shoulder, the dress would shoot precipitously off me in that direction. The whole time I modelled the dress, I kept my arms up nice and high, tribal- or flamenco-style. Who'd have thought I'd need dance skills to model a gown?
And it's a good thing I can dance. And that
adianta, the woman modelling with me, could dance, too. We ended up standing together on the stage all by ourselves for a good thirty seconds or more until the other models finally joined us. In that time, I did a lot of standing isolations. With my arms up nice and high. Go figure.I suspect the fact that
adianta and I are dancers has something to do with us being chosen to play the part of wood nymphs for that last song. We gallivanted about and sprinkled fistfuls of glitter all over the freaking place. I still don't know if that last set was good or just plain weird. It was certainly chaotic, with ice queens and demon queens and wood nymphs and minuet-dancing couples and zombie beauty queens staggering around, crashing into one another. It was almost like being at the Jillina workshop all over again! Heh....The first dress I wore is a strappy long gown in black with a front panel of rosy claret. As I did my little turn on the catwalk, I stopped and struck poses at several points. On one of those points, I found myself looking directly at a guy who may have had a mullet (or maybe his hair was pulled back to resemble one). I held my pose and my smile, and then I had the horrid realization that this guy seemed to think that just because I was looking at him and smiling, that I must want him.
No matter, though. I only held the pose for four seconds, then moved on.
But at the end of the night, after I finished a pose for the photographer, I walked back toward the change room and the mullet man reached over and very firmly groped my belly. I couldn't even put my arms down to do anything about it, because then I would have been half naked and there's no way I wanted to reward that unasked-for gropeage. Gah!
It was a relief to put on my homely street clothes. No stranger's ever successfully groped me while I've been wearing those.
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 01:14 pm (UTC)From:Oh great Shan of the North...
Date: 2006-11-30 04:14 pm (UTC)From:Just what is the difference between Eskimo and Inuit?
(racial/tribal/geographical/someother-al?)
I'm pretty sure I've had this conversation with someone (maybe you) in the past but I don't seem to remember.
Re: Oh great Shan of the North...
Date: 2006-11-30 04:20 pm (UTC)From:I love etymology so I did a quick look...
Date: 2006-11-30 05:49 pm (UTC)From:So is it Algonquian, Abenaki or Spanish (via the French)
>World Net<
...the Algonquians called them Eskimo (`eaters of raw flesh') but they call themselves the Inuit (`the people')...
>American Heritage Dictionary<
The claim that Eskimo is offensive is based primarily on a popular but disputed etymology tracing its origin to an Abenaki word meaning “eaters of raw meat.” Though modern linguists speculate that the term actually derives from a Montagnais word referring to the manner of lacing a snowshoe, the matter remains undecided, and meanwhile many English speakers have learned to perceive Eskimo as a derogatory term invented by unfriendly outsiders in scornful reference to their neighbors' unsophisticated eating habits.
>Dictionary.com<
[Origin: 1575–85; < earlier Esqimawe(s), appar. via F (of 16th-century Basque fishermen) < Sp esquimao(s) < Montagnais (F sp.) aiachkimeou- a name for the Micmac, extended or transferred to the Labrador Eskimo among the eastern Montagnais; perh. lit., snowshoe-netter (cf. Ojibwa aškime‧ to net snowshoes); cf. husky.
There was alot more but I didn't want to swamp you with my hobby (etymology).
So in my warped mind I'm thinkin' that snowshoes are laced with sinew which is from raw flesh so in a round about way, (based on the above) "Eskimo" could just as well mean "walking on dinner".
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 10:16 pm (UTC)From:For the record, I am not.
Not that there's anything wrong with being Armenian. I'm just not, is all.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-30 10:58 pm (UTC)From:The green dress may have been tricky to wear, but it seems to be pretty!
I hope that you were happy with your hair and that it went well with your outfits!!!:)
no subject
Date: 2006-12-01 01:08 am (UTC)From: