That half the time models walk the ramp at Paris and Milan, and the other half peep at you from mascara-ed eyelashes and / or smoky eyes from overpriced fashion glossies, you’d think the least they could do was smile.
But no. A smirk is probably the best you can get. And that is good. Considering that their faces usually bear a condescending, supercilious mask, almost as if the very thought of genetically inferior ‘masses’ turning the pages of a fashion mag to ogle at them, is repulsive enough for that patronizing look to be plastered permanently on their chiselled features.
Sometimes on a good day, they pose with a half smile, lips slightly parted, two teeth visible, staring at you insolently, as you sigh envyingly, admiring the high cheekbones that have been bronzed to perfection.
That half smile only makes you more anxious about your own status and attitude, as you uneasily look at the clothes / accessories / makeup they model, and make a mental note to pick them or something to that effect the next time your happy feet hit the mall.
That all the plastic you used that month makes a re-appearance in the form of a tidy outstanding sum that you have to shell from your measly salary, is but obvious.
As is the scowl that doesn’t leave your face for the rest of the month.
I don’t think not reading the magazines is a solution.
But then, what else is?
No comments:
Post a Comment