So, the new booker at vivs, Lily, sent me down an ally way to a surreptitiously hidden start up salon. I arrived at Papillion to be met by whimsical wrought iron gates opening out to me from the salon. Luckily it was a mufti day so I was wearing yellow leather sandals with ballerina straps, black jeans, a white shirt and a baby blue Tag Heuer jumper instead of my school uniform, hardly notable model street style.
When I entered I met Jen, the founding hair dresser as she was getting ready to go out for the night in a black cocktail dress. The fitting was not so much as a fitting but she just asked me to come in closer to the time of the shoot to have a trim. By the time I left I had given her my card and my phone number and the 'you're my favourite' count had reached three.
If one ego boost wasn't enough for the afternoon as I was heading home someone sitting two rows away from me gave me glances until she got off the bus at the same stop. "Have you ever thought about modelling?" I gave her my card and told her to call the agency. I don't think there is a bigger compliment then a stranger stopping you in the street and telling you that they will pay money for a picture of you. Perhaps I should walk around Paddington all dolled up more often, it might become the secret to my success.