I hate going to castings. I know they are an important part of being a model but sometimes I wish they’d just book from my pictures.
I know, it sounds like I am whining. Going to castings are like interviews, you just have to do it to get the gig, but what if you had to interview every single week for a job you do every single day? It gets sort of old. I mean, how often does the same casting director have to see you before they get an idea about what you look like?
That One Casting
I remember one casting that I went to that was just ridiculous. An agent sent me to an open-casting for a fashion week show. Now normally when my agent sends me somewhere I don’t have to worry about there being a lot of people. I’m with a pretty good agency. So I generally don’t have to go to the castings that more amateur girls go to, but this one was different.
This show was looking for ‘fresh faces’, faces they haven’t seen before. Since I had never worked with this casting director, I qualified as a ‘fresh face’ and the agent didn’t hesitate to send me.
I wish he had.
When I got to the location, there were about 150 girls waiting in line. I could tell that most of them were not agency models. They showed up in party dresses, gaudy clothes, and things I wouldn’t wear even if they were paying me. One girl had a pair of shoes that drew more attention than her face! Sure, she was rocking those stilettos, but good luck remembering what her face looked like.
I amused myself by rating the girls in my mind on a scale of 1-10 – sort of like what I imagined the casting directors were doing inside. Girls with un-proportional shapes, awkward walks, and loud personalities rarely scored above a 4. I counted 75 girls that I would have scored that way. The girls who looked like they’ve actually been to a casting call before were few- maybe like a dozen or so. You could easily recognize them with their solid white or black shirts, skinny jeans and a nice pair of heels.
After I spent nearly an hour playing ‘guess who makes it through’ I turned my attention to the girls standing immediately in front of me. There was this girl, a 5’10 brunette with attitude oozing out of her in front of me. I noticed her bra-strap hanging out of her blouse as she leaned impatiently on one leg.
“Excuse me,” I tapped on her shoulder.
When she turned around, I noticed her face. Sure, she was pretty. But she had enough makeup to do three photo shoots back-to-back.
“Yeah?” oozed out of her.
“Your strap is showing,” I smiled at her, nodding my head at her shoulder. Lifting her over-manicured finger, complete with diamond insets and a sunset, she popped the bra-strap back into place. Without any type of gratitude, she turned around and shifted her weight to the other leg.
I didn’t see her after that casting. I was kind of wishing I would. She definitely had potential, she just need a little – well, a lot of guidance.
My deep thoughts about the pretty girl with the attitude were interrupted by the sounds of a slamming door and high heels stomping out of the room. There goes another one of my fours.
How I love the casting game.