Halle Gaines Creative Writing- 3rd block 11/1/11

What Warm Feels Like

I got settled in the models apartment and met up with Alan Foreman, my mother agent from Austin TX who had come with me to New York City for a couple days out of my two week trip. The place was modern, with the classic airy, New York feel to every simple room. There were pictures of various fashionable images of models and purses, framed hanging on the walls. I dropped off my things and ran outside. Alan and i rushed to the Elite headquarters on Park Avenue and 23rd. What exactly took place in there is all a glittering blur now. Tall beautiful girls milled around the office, towering over fashionable people sitting at computers socializing, clicking and beeping. They arrange an expensive haircut for me; they inform me on developing a model style. They informed me that I was meeting with young, up and coming photographers every day of my visit, and they took some simple Polaroids of me to send to those photographers in advance. My specific robot agent, Annie scurried over to me, smiling big. Okay so, weve arranged for a hair appointment with Xavier to help you develop your model style. Model style? Yeah you know, youre a cool girl youve got a cool style that probably stands out back at home, we are to help you enhance it you know? We think this cut would compliment that, and look great with your face shape. She handed me a picture that had been ripped out of one of the hundreds of magazines they had on tap in the office. See, this is like you, just more, do you know what I mean? Yeah, yeah, I said, trying to act like this made sense. Youre gonna look great Love, Annie replied, smiling wider than ever. Okay well I scheduled her appointments for this week, inserted Coco, the manager robot of the whole machine. They are all just starting out, so they do it for free to get pictures in their books like you do it for free for your books! Coco exclaimed. Great! I pretended to be exited in fear I think youll really get along with this guy you have tomorrow, hes real young and nice, chirped an intern robot. Its so exciting! Youll look great! Model style. Its cool, you know? Though the experience was nicer than others that Ive had with various agencies, the buzzing fickle environment of fashion and appearances resembled a clean, cold, high- tech factory. It was massive, metallic, and filled with rubber smiles and synthetic conversation, that created an illusion of a warm atmosphere to draw in pretty bodies and pump them out into the magazines as amazons. This world was fraught with fashion robots equipped with nice teeth and prim nails. The male populous was gay; the females very smiley, to gain the trust of outsiders. But all had empty eyes that landed on the pores of my pale, white skin, and stopped there. It was easy to tell that pleasant conversation was one of the first skills programmed on their hard drives, considering I was able to maintain conversation despite being completely aware of each Elite robot surveying my body in depth upon our first meeting, under the veil of conversation. It could not have taken any longer to get out of there, and I could not have been anymore perplexed by the two- sided nature of this species. But when we did get out, I forgot all about it in an instant and absorbed the pulsing colorful energy of New York City. Outside the Elite machine was a gigantic, real, living organism, bursting at the seams with life and diversity and history. I stepped off the pristine marble stair onto the dirty living road. I was swept down the street by a brisk winter wind, and a current of people, flowing, walking fast with a purpose. That purpose radiated up from the ground along with the steam rising up from the sewer and my pours absorbed it all. I wanted to

move to New York City all my life, dreamt and imagined what it would feel like, and for the first time I physically felt that purpose moving within my flesh and blood. The mornings feeling of alienation slipped away as Alan lead me to his friend Johnnys house on the other side of Manhattan: the East Village. We left the big, tall, shiny, silver buildings behind as we went underground to the subway. Old, historically meaningful buildings loomed over us as we emerged once again. The energy here was much different. Alan had been chatting all the way, and he started telling me about the East Village as he remembered it, with heroin addicts in this park, this school where he had first thought to send his daughter, this piece of trash that was made into art back in 89 to promote resourcefulness. The bitter taste of fashion- chrome was still lingering in my mouth, until Johnny greeted us and led us upstairs to his flat with the old familiar smell of cigarette smoke billowing out his door. I walked in and shed my layers into a pile next to a black leather chair that I slumped into, and relaxed for the first time all day. Johnny had red Christmas style lights hanging, which really added to the welcoming and toasty feeling of his stylish bachelors pad by dimly illuminating the space; a refuge from the cold. The living room was made for company, with a nice set of records and a record player in the corner playing Iggy Pop. His kitchen was to the left of the door, and was only separated by a bar, and some stools. It was small of course, and there was an ivy plant hanging in the window above the sink. Johnnys room was in the opposite corner behind a thin, sliding wood door, with a black finish. Concert posters of the New York Dolls and the album art of the Buzzcocks and Social Distortion hung around all over. The place was well- kept, and the hardwoods were in great shape. His style was classic NYC punk. Johnny sat on his couch while Alan relayed him the information of the day, and how people at Elite have changed since he worked with them back in his young photographer days. He talked about Tanni his wife, and Kiki, his daughter. I was mostly quiet, still taking in the fact that for today, all my dreams had come true because I was in New York City. But I listened to them, and tried to take in information about modeling, taking hints and picking up tips. Johnny told Alan about how busy he is, styling peoples hair and doing their makeup, being a general work-aholic which I cant imagine would be too difficult when you get to jet-set all over the globe. Yeah, man, Elites big now, there were lots of people bustling around, being efficient, Alan said, wide eyed. Really? Do they have a lot of good girls? Johnny asked. Mmmmyeah you know, there were some really cool looking girls there, the pics on the wall though, I dont know, some were just kind of regular to me, Alan said, always touting his own eye for talent, even subconsciously. Somehow his humility still stays intact. What about you, are you getting lots of jobs? Yeah, you know Ive had a slew of haircuts this week and next week Im going to Australia to do some spread, hair and make-up stuff. Im gonna party, theyre really cool there Ive heard, Johnny said; ultimately cool, like nothing is ever too big a deal. Yeah you partying a lot still? Yeah man, come out with me tonight, well have some beers and find some girls, Johnny said, grimacing at Alan mischievously. Ahh I dont know Johnny, I dont think Tanni would like that very much, you should call her and ask, Alan laughed. No way, she hates me! And she would say no. God Alan you are so domesticated now. Youre like two years younger than me and your all married with a kid and you have a bedtime, Johnny laughed, forever a youth. There were static and hard sounds of newer punk music reverberating off the walls now, and we had to raise our voices to hear each other speak. Johnny and I were smoking cigarettes which Alan mocked with coughing but we all laughed at this. Johnny said his place will be the last standing space where people will be free to smoke cigarettes, since Bloomberg had just made smoking in Central Park illegal; it was a hot topic.

Later I explored the building, walked out on the roof top and looked down on his street and thought. I heard the drone of passing cars and voices, laughing and yelling, life all bleeding together and fading from my attention when I closed my eyes and focused on the cold wind caress my cheek. I thought about how I was initially going to be scraping my way up to this city by my nails, making it through the underground, on my last penny; and how different that was from the current perspective where the red carpet was virtually unfolding before me as long as I pull off this modeling thing. I wondered where exactly I would fit into all of that, and this city. But I wasnt worried (which goes against my nature). For the time, everything was as perfect as it could be. Until Johnny walked outside. Johnny is a tall, thin, and very old- school punk guy in his late thirties. He has dark hair that was receding at the top, and round, genuine eyes. He lumbered over, cool and curious, with a beer in hand. He asked me how my day went, what I thought about all of that fashion and modeling stuff. I dont know why I felt compelled to, but I just told him about how I hated every bit of it. Im not like those girls, I didnt know what those people saw in me, I didnt necessarily want to walk down the red carpet into my dreams, I wanted to reap the benefits of working my ass off to get there. He understood me, and everything at that point shifted. Now I had an ally, an anchor in NYC for the future. He told me that later in the week when I wasnt too busy, he would show me the more artsy side of Manhattan. He told me about how the part I was in earlier that day was all the business people, and his side was the culture. Even after Alan flew back to Austin, which was about half- way through my first week, mine and Johnnys friendship had been perfectly situated; I felt comfortable going over still without Alan, after my days work. This came as such a relief, because it was hard for me to be with the other model girls at the apartment. They were fun, and they showed me the perks of being signed with one of the top ten agencies in New York, but we were still very different. Unlike these girls whose dream was to be a model, it took a lot of energy for me to pose in front of a camera; I have never really been comfortable with it, even with friends back at home. So one particular day, I was really worn out from making conversation with the photographers that I couldnt relate to, and posing in front of their cameras. When it was over and I came back to the apartment, I wanted to chill for a while and watch something stimulating on TV. So I fell onto the main room couch after changing into my pjs and watched the history channel. Another model staying there named Lily came in a little later, and I figured she wouldnt be into Who Shot Abraham Lincoln, so I told her she could change it. She changed it to the Hannah Montana Movie, and I thought that was kind of funny, so I made jokes and made fun of the trivial dramas. She laughed at first but eventually I looked over at her and she seemed annoyed. This posed a problem. So I went to Johnnys, and did that consecutively the rest of my trip. Johnny knew I was very low on funds, so he provided me with dinner every night. He knew I didnt know how to cook and wanted to, so he taught me how to make a yummy pasta dish that has sunflower seeds in it. He told me that I laughed like Beevis and Butthead and he lent me CDs to upload onto my computer. He showed me the artsy news paper in the East village, where I could find art shows and concerts and movies. The girls were okay, but nothing couldve been more fun than hanging out, watching movies, listening to music and old stories of Johnnys in his warm, tiny East Village flat, seemingly in the center of the universe. My last night in town was a sad one. I ate my last dinner with Johnny feeling heavy, wanting so desperately to make time slow down. We tried, but we just couldnt talk about much else than me leaving, and how we would keep up. We talked about when I get back to the city, what we will do, and how he would help me get on my feet if the modeling didnt work out. We talked about what I would do while I was back in Austin, to stay cool and interesting. Being in the present was difficult for us then. Whose this again? Its the Adverts, Johnny said. You really like them. Yeah I do, theyre cool, they remind me of Siouxsie, I said. Ill burn you a couple CDs that you can listen to on the plane, Johnny looked at me through the corner of his eye. I closed mine and frowned.

I dont wanna go!! I whined. Just make sure to see a lot of shows, and make art and read, and before you know it youll be back and youll still be interesting, if you stayed here doing this modeling thing all the time youd be lame. he said facetiously. I loved his back- handed compliments. By the time the movie Repo Man was over, I had accidentally fallen asleep on Johnnys couch. I looked over and he was asleep on his chair, propped up with his hand, and his legs stretched out. Oh shit its one in the morning! I said loudly after looking at my phone. Shiiiiiiit, He said as he adjusted to consciousness, and its raining really hard. He walked me back to the apartment that night, and it was raining harder than I have ever experienced. We shared my umbrella, and we both had to tilt forward to where we could only see our feet, and couldnt see the street before us. My shoes felt like slush at this point, and my feet were numb. From my toes up to my knees, my jeans were soaking wet, but the umbrella pretty much shielded the rest. I know Johnny must have been totally soaked though. I gave him a hug, and yelled over the slapping of the rain on the concrete that he could keep my umbrella and Id miss him. He yelled back Ill miss you too, have a safe trip back. I walked inside and changed into warm pjs and felt bad thinking about Johnnys long walk back to his little flat. He would have to walk, subway, transfer, subway, walk. I fell asleep quickly though, and woke up on my way back to Austin. I was back in school the day after I arrived. All was how I had left it, ebbing and flowing in its natural way. School carried on, and it seemed surreal at first, until it eventually eased into the everyday. My friends were the same, had done the same thing all along. I had missed a couple awesome parties while I was gone, but I knew what they must have consisted of. My boyfriend carried on the same, people talked about the same things, and it all seemed so small town to me. But since that experience certain things Johnny told me have stuck in my mind. Stay cool, dont get carried away in the glamour of modeling, its all smoke and mirrors. Keep drawing every day, go see shows, write, be young, and eventually youll find your way back up here and Ill be waiting.