FFF- In Which the Author....Oh, Dear God.

Today was the singular most hilarious day of my entire professional life, perhaps my life in entirety. And I have had some pretty hilarious days. I can only pray that my retelling is half as funny as the actual events that I am about to describe.

I'm writing this from a lovely hotel in Stuttgart, Germany after a day on set with a truly fantastic crew. I've worked for this client* before, but never anyone on this particular team. I was actually really nervous about this shoot because the last time I modelled for this company they were unhappy with my work**.  Obviously it couldn't have been too dire since they hired me again but I made sure to be on my very best behavior*** today.

I groomed, plucked, buffed, exfoliated and arrived to set early. The makeup artist did a beautiful job on my face and hair, and then we headed off to location. We drove up a dizzying hill (San Francisco has nothing on Stuttgart) and arrived at a mansion that was straight out of Architecture Digest. That's a real magazine, right?

It was a beautiful place to have a photo shoot. There was expensive looking art on the walls, a fountain in the entryway, and floor-to-ceiling windows displaying one of the most beautiful views I've ever seen.

Now, one of the things that can be a drag about photo shoots is the waiting around. The lights have to be set up, wardrobe needs to get ready, and then makeup and/or hair usually needs retouching. But, given the setting, I really didn't mind. And as the makeup artist did his thing, I was feeling pretty good about myself and the day so far. The crew had been impressed with my professionalism, the makeup looked gorgeous and the hairstylist really loved my hair. "Yes," he said, appraising his work, "this is really working. Now go get dressed and we'll start shooting."

As I headed downstairs to wardrobe I gave myself a little pat on the back and had a sip of my energy drink to ward off jetlag. Then I confidently rounded the corner and fell into the fucking fountain.

Why don't you just read that again? Go ahead. I'll wait. No. Don't even bother. I'll give it to you again.

I FELL IN THE FUCKING FOUNTAIN.

And it is worth noting that this was no normal fountain. This was a waist deep, rocky, indoor, Zen pond. That I fell inside of.

It is also worth noting that this was no normal fall. This was stepping where you assume there's ground and diving headfirst into deep and cold water with enough product in your hair to start a Fran Drescher level ecosystem and hours worth of makeup on your face. Not to mention your clothes and only coat. 

So what is a half drowned and completely mortified model to do?
A) Apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness.
B) Laugh with the stylist until you're both clutching the clothing rack and threatening to ihre hosen pinkeln.
C) Dissolve into giggles when the hairstylist not only forgives you but also joins you at the clothing rack and refers to you as Ariel for the rest of the day.

So. That happened. And if you'll excuse me, I'm off to soak my cold and exhausted body in a tub and order room service so as to avoid any public fountains. 

*Client=clothing company that hires the team. Team= model, photographer, photographer's assistant, photo editor, MUA, stylist, etc.
**actually, they were unhappy with my hair. It's still a little weird to me that my hair is so tied up in my work. I mean, other people get terrible haircuts and, you know, wear hats. They don't have to worry about being fired.
***and to have the best hair possible....