Yesterday I took part in a photo shoot for the NY Times. For the Fashion and Style section no less! In many circles I am known for my keen fashion sense. Very few people can rock paint-spattered homeade skirts and Sears brand button-downs the way I can. Why, someone was enjoying my ensemble just the other day, pointing and laughing with her friend in unabashed admiration. She was sweet, she even gave me a dollar, no doubt as a sign of clothing-respect.
And you know coveralls paired with dirty wristcuffs are making a comeback. I saw Cate Blanchett wearing the combo the other day.
The photoshoot was very awkward as I was unceremoniously wedged in between two people's asses (the asses shall remain nameless...ok, one of them was Arturo's). I was sitting on the floor in what can only be described as an odalesque-cum-mannequin-pose. I am secretly terrified that they got a crotch shot. "Look mom, my hoo-hoo is in the New York Times, now she's really made it!" You laugh, but mah girl's gonna be in pictures someday, I just know it. She's got the magic.
Also, they made us pose in the alley behind Chapala Taqueria. I can't do justice to this encounter in print. Let's just say that a Metrosexual Brit was shouting at us to "Work for it" as we pretended to root through the fucking garbage for "installation objects." Because everyone knows that taco wrappers and vomit remnants make for the best art.
On the whole, it was a very interesting adventure. Hello fame, farewell anonymity. You can now call me Alison Greta FitzG, cuz everyone knows that fancy people use 3 names.