Seventieth posting - show

Ever wondered what’s it like to walk in someone else’s shoes? Or take someone’s place in life? And was that person a high-profile male fashion model who sipped Perrier with Evian ice cubes, practiced the fine art of walking with a full bowl of champagne on his head, and didn’t wake up for less than $10,000 a day? Yep, that was me. My company is coming out with a line of apparel and had asked for a few volunteers to model the clothes for a “town hall” meeting. I manage one of the brands featured, so I figured I’d do my corporate duty. My brand happens to be a bike brand, but I oh so incorrectly assumed that bike shorts wouldn’t be part of the line up. Wrong I was.

There were about a dozen of us, a rag tag crew who fulfilled the long list of modeling requirements: size Medium. The event coordinator was a’bubbling with excitement. A former dancer, she could throw out a bend-at-the-waste, hand-on-the-floor, head-flip-up, like no one I’d ever seen before (or not that I’ll admit). She looked us up and down, divided us into 3 groups – blue, red and yellow – and tossed us our first of four outfits.

For the women, it was like a feeding frenzy of trying to swap colors, begging for longer shorts, pleading for a jacket. The guys did what we were told, including the one who was given cycling bibshorts, which we affectionately called a Unitard. Mine weren’t particularly bad, with the exception of two rounds of bike tops and shorts. On a bike, I have no problem with them. Haven’t been self-conscious in years, and normally could care less about what others think. In front of 500 co-workers, that’s another story….plus it was darn cold in there.

All in all, it was not an unpleasant experience, although next time, I’m getting an agent.

NATHAN