Living Outside The Lines: “Peril on the Runway”

“Umm, no cutting or coloring, just styling?” I ask. Assured there will be no scissors or hair dye, I agree to be their guinea pig. Turning to my co-workers I ask, “Why couldn’t one of you volunteer?” Silence.

by, Becky J Miller, exclusive to Corridor News

From the outside looking in, it would seem that high fashion models have it made; they get to wear expensive designer clothes and have someone else fix their hair and make-up. I’m sure the reality of that lifestyle is much different than the glamorous photographs seen by the public. My brief, and far from the world of high fashion, experiences definitely were not glitzy.

The first occurrence of someone else fixing my hair for an important event occurred at the end of my 7th grade year. For us military brats living on Charleston Air Force Base in South Carolina, elementary school did not end until the completion of 7th grade, and high school began in the 8th grade. There were no middle/junior high schools.

The 7th grade prom was a very big deal, we all bought fancy dresses, got our hair fixed and even had dates. The first snafu occurred when my mother tried to send me off on this rite of passage in a frilly, little girl’s party dress. I’d imagined something much more mature and glamorous. Her selection did not come close to matching my dream dress; it was quickly returned.

Once the perfect dress was secured, it was off to the hairstylist. I’m not sure how long I spent in the beautician’s chair, but my hair turned out about like the dress. I don’t recall exactly what went wrong, but I do know there were tears. My poor mother not only had to pay for the less than stellar service, she had to take me home and try to rectify the bad hair situation. She succeeded.

Despite the rocky beginnings, the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. My date, John, presented me with a beautiful wrist corsage. My friends and I all had a blast dancing and being goofy 13 year olds.

A few years later, I decided the model’s life was for me, and managed to convince my parents to spend a ridiculous amount of money to send me to Millie Lewis Modeling School. Although I rather enjoyed photography modeling, I learned rather quickly that runway modeling was not for me. We won’t talk about the very expensive 8×10 glossy photo I gave an ex-boyfriend that ended up a dartboard after I dumped him. #yikes

Here we are, it’s 2017 and well, I’ve aged a bit. Nonetheless, yet again, I’ve managed to find myself in both places, a cosmetologist’ chair, AND the runway, only this time it wasn’t exactly my choice. Imagine this: I’m busy working in my office. Several of my co-workers are up front chatting. I hear voices and then someone calls out, “Becky!” “Becky!” Geez. What do you need?

Walking out of my office I spot two students standing at the customer window. A co-worker says, “They are cosmetology students, and need a hair and make-up model for their spring fashion show.” “Umm, no cutting or coloring, just styling?” I ask. Assured there will be no scissors or hair dye, I agree to be their guinea pig. Turning to my co-workers I ask, “Why couldn’t one of you volunteer?” Silence.

D-Day arrives with no information; What do I wear? What time do I arrive? How will my hair be styled? Although I’m tempted to ditch the show, I’ve committed so I wonder over to the cosmetology lab at what I feel is an appropriate time. I sign in then wait, and wait, and wait, wondering if I’ve been forgotten.

Finally a student walks out and asks how I’d like my hair styled. Huh? I thought the purpose of securing volunteers was so the students could showcase their skills? I’d assumed they’d want to create a fancy up do, or at the very least, straighten my mess of curls. Nope. The student was so enamored with my natural curls, she simply pulled them into two loose ponytails in the back leaving waterfall curls on the side. I was so disappointed. I could’ve done that myself.

My make-up style is generally very light and natural. The student looked closely and said, “Oh you’re already wearing make-up.” I gave her permission to add/darken as she saw fit. She added some accents that weren’t glaringly obvious, but still made me want to wash my face, immediately!!! The song chosen by the DJ for my five seconds of fame was, “What I Like About You” by the Romantics. It worked.

The runway show was over by noon, but I still had to work the rest of the day with my messy, bumpy, ponytail and too much make up. Would I do it again? You bet, but next time, I’ll choose my own hairstyle and walking song.

Watch out New York Fashion Week, I just may come knocking on your door one of these days! 

Until Next Time,

Becky J Miller ~ Warrior Princess

Becky J Miller writes a bi-weekly column and is exclusive to SM Corridor News. You can read more of Becky’s columns in Lifestyle.