Travel Recaps: Stuttgart

When I arrived in Stuttgart, I was cranky. Like, travelled for 24 hours, starting at 4am, concluding at 10am the following morning cranky. And the 8 hour time difference totally cocked me up, and it's not as though I have a rock solid grip on time as is.

So I grouched myself into a taxi, grumbled into my hotel, and then lurched onto the bed, determined to dislike everyone and everything around me. I woke up at 4am the next morning and felt....better. But I still didn't like anyone. At 5am, I decided to go for a run to clear my head and take in all the stupid sights.

The BMW Mercedes Building is lovely if...a little ominous, no?

Guys, the sights were freaking delightful. Stuttgart made it really hard to be cranky. The roses were blooming, the buildings were beautiful, and there was a 30 yard stretch of the park full of sleeping ducks.

These old dudes were the only ones awake, clearly having the morning kvetch.

As I rounded the corner on these sculptures I literally stopped dead in my tracks and said, "Oh, for fuck's sake!" Out loud, much to the surprise of the woman jogging nearby.

It was scenic as balls and it put me in a good mood that lasted until the late afternoon when the worst jetlag I have ever had kicked in, just as we were about to shoot the hosiery section of the catalog. By the way, next time you buy a pair of tights and see the lovely legs on the packaging, you should know that the model who owns those legs had to hoist her ass in the air and pretend to sit upside down to make them look like that.

But all's well that ends well and the shoot went smoothly and afterwards I treated myself to a gelato. Oh, it also happened to be THE BEST FUCKING GELATO IN THE WORLD. Seriously, Stuttgart is worth a trip just for Old Bridge Gelateria. I had a scoop of nutella gelato and a scoop of frozen yogurt and spent the whole time debating which was better.  I almost cried when I got to the cone...UNTIL I BIT THE CONE. EVEN THE CONES ARE BETTER THAN ANYTHING ELSE EVER. If this company doesn't hire me again soon I think I'll go into withdrawal.

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....