Two years back I ended up modeling for People Magazine, which was, at the time, a new low for me.
How it happened was that I’d organised a fashion shoot for People at Floyd’s Barbershop in Fourways Crossing (who used to be a client of ours) because the interior of that place ROCKS and is ideal for any kind of shoot.
They closed the shop early and everyone waited expectantly for the People crew to arrive, which they did, without the actual model.
They asked me if I wouldn’t mind stepping in and saving the day, so I figured sure, why not? How hard can it be?
And that’s the thing, it wasn’t hard at all, UNTIL they swung the cameras on me and said the most terrifying sentence I’ve heard in a good while:
“Ok, now, act sexy!”
Funny how that sentence had the exact opposite effect on me. The first few pics looked like I was bracing myself to be run over by a bus. Thankfully it got better. Floyd’s Barbershop keeps a fridge full of free beer for its customers, and by the time I’d drank the fridge half dry, I was feeling pretty DAMN sexy, biatch!
The resulting photos are possibly the most hilarious shots of me I’ve ever seen. ‘Gay’ doesn’t even begin to describe it, all five pages of it, but hey, they paid me R1000 for two hours work so I was pretty stoked all in all.
It got me thinking though and because of that experience, I have a new found respect for models because that shit is NOT easy, and yet they manage to pull it off and create the perfect ‘phwoar!’ effect more often than not.
However, not all of us can create that effect because nature is cruel and most of us weren’t fortunate enough to be born with smoking good looks and hot bodies, but lucky for us, there is another kind of sexiness that goes way deeper than the flesh, and that’s the kind of sexiness I find the most compelling.
About four years ago I was going through a particularly bad patch, drinking heavily, partying a lot and I ended up wasted at a party where I ran into a girl I’d known for a year or two. She saw the state of me and refused to let me drive, insisting I go home with her instead. My friends had all gone home by that stage, so it was a total no-brainer.
Back at her place we drank some more and at some point in the early hours of the morning, the conversation started getting really intense, she was probing, she wanted to know why I was such a mess, she was hitting nerves all over the goddamn place and I ended up breaking down completely.
Later we fell into bed together, but my performance was pretty pityful to be honest, and I ended up slipping into a booze-induced coma halfway through.
The next morning was the usual sheepish and embarassing affair of coffee and polite banter before she dropped me off wherever I’d left my car. End of story as far as I was concerned.
But then, nearly two years later, I ran into her again on another crazy nameless night in another crazy nameless club or bar somewhere, we did the ‘Oh-hi-how-are-you!’ thing and went our seperate ways into the thronging crowd, but all through the night I kept catching her gaze across the room.
Later she approached me and we spoke about the night I went home with her. She started out joking about it, saying how crazy that party was and how out of hand we all got, but her tone changed the more we spoke about it and eventually she looked me in the eye and told me that night, watching me break down in her flat, was the sexiest thing she’d ever experienced.
My mind reeled. On one hand I was flattered, but on the other I was completely taken aback. In no magazines I’d ever read did it ever recommend crying like a baby as a means of creating an unforgettably sexy experience.
So I’m curious – what is sexy? I’ve met at least a hundred (ok, ten) really good looking women that are dead sexy looks-wise, but completely vapid and ugly inside. It’s sad because billboards and magazines and movies and TV celebrate only the shallowest kind of sexyness when in truth, and in my experience, true sexyness goes much, much deeper than that.
If anyone’s feeling brave, I’m keen to hear your stories.