After the DKNY job I was to fly back to Paris for a quick job and then flying home to Copenhagen the following day. At this point I was “full”, I needed to come home to my mum and process all the experiences I had accumulated in the short period of four weeks.
Sleep deprived from the flight and tired from carrying my luggage around Paris I walked into my agency near the Opèra area. Much to my dismay I found out the client had dropped me from the job, so I had flown to Paris and walked around town with all my crap for nothing. This was the first time I really thought: Man, this business is run by children. I couldn’t comprehend how the fashion royalty could get to their position by treating people this way – I still can’t. Every decision is made in the very last second, which makes it hard for models to plan anything without having to decide whether that one job pays well enough to flake on next weekend in the cabin with your mates. At least it has been like this in my case. I feel like I’m picking my nose in some apartment on the other side of the planet every single time there’s important events back home.
Sorry, back to Paris: I remember thinking: How is this even possible? How am I flying to a city for nothing just because some people can’t make up their mind? In what step of the booking process did someone seriously fuck up? And who? At this point I was pretty fed up with everything and just decided to buy a new ticket home that same day instead of staying for my flight the following day. So I rushed to Charles de Gaulle to reach my flight. On my way there I get a ring from the agency saying I have to rush back because now the client changed their mind. I thought these people must have some fucking cheek expecting me to jump and roll at their every command. I don’t remember if it was the exact words, but I basically told him to tell them to go eff themselves.
It was going to be a tight run but I made just before check-in closed. So I was sitting waiting at my gate flicking through a French Men’s Health or something, looking at the clock thinking “Shouldn’t they have announced boarding 10 minutes ago?” So I found out they had sneakily changed the gate without announcing anything. So partially by my own fault I missed that flight. I was running around like a chicken with its head chopped off trying to see if I could get on the flight or a later one same day – no dice. When flying around Europe you really have to keep your wits about the changing of gates – oftentimes they will not announce it. I learned this the hard way and have been close at other occasions.
I’m not sure if I was crying but it was pretty close. I was so relieved to be going home at last and now I had gone and fucked that one up. Watching my suitcase rolling out defeated on the luggage reel I was calling my agent asking him what to do. He said he would do his best to put me on the job now and everything was going to be fine. 30 minutes later I got a text while I was on the airport bus for the third time that day that they took me off the job again. At this point I didn’t really care anymore. My level of disappointment was maxed out already.
But those are the times you grow, the times when you get tougher. Failures don’t hurt as much anymore and I get back into it. Sure, I might bitch a bunch about it at first but… actually I don’t really know how to finish that sentence. You fall off your horse, get back up and keep riding or some shit…
