4
About 4 p.m., we had a visitor in the studio.
We, not one of us, like visitors in the studios when we are shooting.
It is choreographed mayhem, and anyone stepping foot into the choreographed space is going to piss a lot of people off.
And we lost at least two hours for whatever reason; no one shares this stuff with the model, and seriously, we really never need to know.
About 4 p.m., we had a visitor, two, really.
One was the big chief. Normally, there would be screaming, but instead, you heard a hushed “Lord Greyson.”
And everyone did their damnedest to look even busier.
Greyson and the woman accompanying him walked right up to the shoot and stopped the cameras and said, “This will just take a minute or two max, so charge it to me. Shannon, Laurel has your clothes for this evening. You will be picked up at 7, dinner starts at the house at 8,
but there are people you need to meet, so you have to be in your car at 7.”
And then he turned to the art director and said, “That means Kevin, you finish at 6, as I want her showered with evening hair and makeup, which everyone wants to do. No excuses, and yes, Kevin, you fucked up this morning, and yes, you were going to stay over and make it up, book her for another day,
you will fuck up again, you always do.”
Greyson’s assistant then handed the dress carrier to my lead dresser, and Greyson turned back to me and said, “You do realize, Shannon, you could, no, I mean this seriously, you could have said no.”
And I replied, “And what? Missed all of this, Greyson? You are under the influence, my friend, well under the influence of something illegal.”
And as Greyson walked off the set laughing, I could hear, “Did you hear that she told a Lord of Parliament that he is under the influence of some drug? Can you imagine a British model saying that? You can tell she is American; she is never going to last the week.”
So... this is the glamour of modeling British style for all of you who think that playing football is demanding on the player’s time.
We shot until the clock, which I could clearly see, said 17:59:59 and someone yelled “CUT. Time.”
And halfway through the scene shoot, the cameras stopped, the dressers came and got me, I was stripped, showered, OK, I was allowed to shower, but the second I was out, hair was there doing their thing.
Makeup and then from the almost skin out, I was allowed my dancer’s belt, and I was dressed in the provided clothing.
It was not the bargain stuff you get at Walmart, definitely not purchased.
If it was purchased, ready to wear, I doubt that, almost certainly designer original.
Look, get over it. What? You don’t think that there are designers making women’s undies trying to get sales and be able to say that “Shannon wears our panties?”
If you cannot accept the fact that, like a lot of other industries, you are selling your body to the highest bidder...
And then the dress. A fabric I had never seen before, and for the record, there are a lot of fabrics I have never seen before, and more are invented or created every single day; this is a massive industry.
If the Creator had chosen that we had fur instead of naked skin, think of the money we could have saved over the eons.
The amount of money spent hiding the female body is about one trillion dollars US.
That is not a tiny industry. And about one fifth, or $200,000,000,000.00, is spent on advertising alone.
So yes, there are designers and firms out there pushing every portion of a woman’s wardrobe. And they all will pay money to dress me.
Back to the dress. Silver lame of some type, I have never seen.
Unusual drape, heavy. But the silver is not a pure white silver.
I know, as I write, I have this dress across my lap, fondling it, it has remained one of my favorites.
Almost floor length, but not quite. Deep V’s front and back, I still do not know how it stays up, and long full sleeves with a huge cuff that bellows out and suggests some princess.
The color, though, silver is white, pure white, but this has a gold tinge to it.
Not a gold gold, but just enough to warm the silver. Never saw this color before.
And of course, the shoes match. And of course, there is matching silver jewelry with real stones. And of course, this is winter in London, so there is a white full-length arctic fox. Now, I know, I understand, but I am paid to wear this, and in my contract it says, “will wear natural furs.”
About that contract, I will diverge for a bit.
I told you that my father was now my business manager; besides, he is enjoying this, and it is free for me.
So good old dad has to read every single page of the massive contracts I have to sign.
In the one for KK, now both Angel and I have to sign this contract independently, so we know that they are a bit, well, universal.
But there is a clause that says that if I get pregnant, KK has the right to cancel my contract.
Dad had to show that to Mom, and I understand that he shared it with everyone at his firm. His son is contracted not to get pregnant for the next three years.
The realities of modeling in today's world. Oh yes, I shared that with the girls at Rho, and they thought it was the craziest thing that they had ever seen. Every girl at Rho knows damn well that I am engaged to my girlfriend, and Carmine is not equipped to get me pregnant.
So at the 7th hour, 1900 British time, I was at the door to the studio in my white fox and a gem-studded handbag.
What? Get real, guys, this is what it really is like, and no, we did not pay for that either.
And Walter, my dedicated driver, waits all day for me.
He only drives for me. Helped me walk to the black sedan, think some European Mercedes limo thing, and opened the door and graciously helped me into the car and took me to Lord Byron Greyson’s estate, where we arrived at 7:30, or 1930 British, and Walter repeated the procedure in reverse,
helping me from the car and into the house.
He deeply bowed and swept his hat to the floor before departing.
I could have and would have driven myself to be honest. Easier.
And I was at Byron’s and Alex’s home. Alex is Lord Greyson’s partner, as in Lord Greyson does not do girls, and I do not do boys. OK? Just get over it.
And I was ushered into Byron’s private office, where two gentlemen were sitting, one obviously from his dress from the Middle East, and the second, obviously, from his body language and appearance, from the Middle East likewise.
“Shannon, I believe that I told you that there was someone you needed to meet, and these two gentlemen...”
It was boring, the two dudes are from the UAE and represent a clothing line that sells to UAE visitors and the well-off locals, specifically clothing designed to fit into the cultural preferences of the region.
And they heard about me or saw some photos of me.
Well, they use models who do not look at all like they are from the Middle East.
And there is no possibility that anyone alive would ever think that I could be from the Middle East.
So... they want my assistance to model outdoor-oriented fashion for the region in the upscale stores and resorts that primarily sell to the extremely well off.
The rate? Well, the first offer was for $1,000,000 for two weeks.
I said, “No, I am a college student, and I don't think I have the time...”
They said, “$2,000,000 and you get to keep the dress that you are wearing and the jewelry, and those white stones? Well, they are diamonds set in platinum, and you can keep those also, and would you like a new car for school?”
I figured, what the hell, “I will take two Porsche 911s, current model, one in silver for me and one in gold for my fiance.”
And they agreed.
And all of that took less than ten minutes start to finish.
Their people will be in touch with my people, type of thing. That means my father will have a bird.
But I really do like this dress.
Oh yes, the cost? Alex told me it would have been about $200,000 in the UAE. And yes, I was going to model some of this style, but mainly beachwear. Come on, beachwear? You pay roughly 2.5 million for a model for beachwear?
No wonder I do not play football, besides, I am a bit too small.
I wonder what table tennis pros make, I am about their size... I think.
Once we had a deal, Byron, as in Lord Byron, mentioned for me to remain seated while he saw the two gentlemen out. A minute or two later, he rushed to his office and closed the door.
“OK, and yes, I set you up. But then again, you were rather well set up.”
“Byron, I have to ask, do they know? Do they know that I am male? I mean, given their culture and all.”
“Shannon love, they were here and made the generous offer because they knew. OK, and this is cultural. The region where this brand is sold is all Islamic, and the vast majority of the clothing is sold to non-Islamic visitors. And those visitors require advertising to sell clothing to them.
But the Islamic culture does not allow for the use of Islamic women for advertising. So the advertisers look to very non-Islamic appearing women, like almost white skin, natural blonde hair, and deep blue eyes, remind you of someone you grew up with?
The firms of business in the Arabian Islamic market would never use a woman who appears to be from the region. That would destroy their faith agreements. And for swimwear? They would never use a woman at all.”
“Are you saying?”
“Yes, I am saying, it is known that Prestige Clothing is always looking for non-female and non-regional appearing models for their swimwear that they retail for the non-Islamic visitors to their resorts.”
“And Shannon, by using you, the Prestige people are not using a woman technically; you appear to be a woman, but you are male, and they know that, so from their cultural position, using you for women's swimwear is allowed. And for the record, we, KK, design and make virtually all of their clothes,
and the swimwear that Prestige carries is on our conservative side. You will show far more skin for us than for them. However, they have to do their own advertising in their own country according to local laws.”
“And you thought?”
“I thought that you could use a pair of 911s. And you do have your father’s skill in negotiating.”
“Byron, I have to ask, do you get a cut of what I earn?”
“No, Shannon. I am not a modeling manager nor a business manager, but I get a finder’s fee of 50% of what you settle for. So I get a million and a new car...”
“Smart ass.”
“Yes, Shannon, I am a smart ass.”
“But that little side deal was not why I brought you here. Shannon, Alex, and I need a favor.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, we have a problem child. OK, it’s Alex’s little sister, she is about seventeen years younger than Alex, the oops baby, I think you call them in the States.”
“OK.”
“And she, Lowri, is having a very difficult time. She has finished her private schooling, all girls for the record, and is not happy with Mommy or Daddy, and wants to have a real job in fashion. But is not ready to go to school. So think of a type of gap year?”
“And this is affecting me how?”
“Well, we need to place her somewhere where she can observe the industry and figure out if she is really interested or not.
A place where she can earn some money. Mommy and Daddy are so unhappy with Lowri that she has to earn her own way.
Mommy and Daddy are not going to finance her gap time.
Her schooling, without a doubt, but this goes against Alex’s parents' Welsh and Methodist background, one that you pay your own way if you want to play, and they see a gap year as a play year.”
“And again, how is this affecting myself?”
“Well, you have a strong support community around you, but where are they today? You spent the day alone, and yes, it was noticed that you needed someone to talk to and, well, we expected this to happen. You are not the first young, inexperienced model that we have hired. And you need support.”
“Who is going to pay this support?”
“Oh, KK will pay for her; that is not a problem, but we do not have a place for her that would be effective. But we think that you have both a place and a need. You get what you need: support and friendship. And Lowri gets a job, with decent pay, a friend in the industry,
and a front row seat for a year.”
“Do I get to meet her?”
“Of course, and in about five minutes at dinner this evening.” And with that, Byron, always the gentleman, stood up, came around, and offered me a hand to help me gracefully stand in four-inch heels, not as easy as it sounds, and then led the two of us into the dining room.
It was a small party, eight in total. Lowri was with her brother, so she was easy to pick out.
Alex, I had met and adored. Then there was Byron and myself.
And an older couple that turned out to be Alex’s parents, not that they had any say in any of this, but they had traveled with Lowri to London.
And Byron’s assistant Colleen, and her life partner, Mai.
Mai and Colleen are both Welsh girls also.
Once introduced, we were seated, and the meal was served. It was a dress event, and I was definitely the best dressed, but also not especially overdressed. The British aristocracy does follow dress traditions, and a formal meal is always in full dress.
And it was a formal meal, seven-course, featuring venison from an Irish estate belonging to the family, fish, appetizers, cheese, the usual.
Yeah, right, we eat like this every evening in western Pennsylvania, only instead of a coastal fish, we serve freshwater trout, and our venison is not roe deer but white-tailed. Normal Monday evening dinner for eight.