DIFFA Dynasty (Photo by Thomas Garza)
Published by Paper City Magazine - Link Above
It is quite surreal running around backstage in a thong and pasties amidst 300 strangers but this is quite normal when you're a model in a fashion show.
This post will cover my full experience of walking in DIFFA: an over-the-top, high-production runway show that focuses on raising money for AIDS awareness. The event took place in a massive hotel ballroom in Dallas, with a gargantuan cross-like stage allowing 1,200+ attendees the luxury of watching avant-garde outfits of otherwordly construction waltz down the runway from every angle, non-stop.
Fashion shows appear as elegant, uncomplicated events, but as a model backstage I can attest it is anything BUT that - so let's dive into the true experience of modeling in a runway show, shall we? :)
I arrived at the venue at 8:00 am sharp as instructed, 10 hours before showtime to check in and enter the "backstage": a walled-off ballroom littered with circular tables to house the 200 models walking in the show later that evening. I was handed a slip with my name and group number and was directed to pass through the curtain. Upon entering, it was already chaotic. Models were claiming their chairs near wall outlets, chatting ever so slightly while they began unpacking their prized duffel bags. Side note: everybody brings a duffel bag. Some models bring rolling bags perfectly sized for a 3-month cruise, but nobody arrives empty-handed. The reason models come with so much "gear" is because we NEVER know what we are wearing until that day, so we are directed to bring a list that usually looks a little something like this:
Black and nude bra
Black and nude strapless bra
Pasties
Black and nude thong/panties
Black heels
Nude heels
Black boots
Booties
Tennis shoes
Jeans (Black and Blue)
Belt
Socks of all kinds and colors
A place to store your jewelry (or don't wear any)
Makeup touch-up bag
Specific shoes (if requested): Gold, Silver, Strappy, Red boots, Close-toed heels, Open-toed heels, Heeled Sandals, etc (I've been requested of all of these)
and most importantly: A ROBE
I know you're wondering....why a robe? The answer is simple: you change A LOT backstage. In essence, you're constantly naked, and who wants to take on and off the outfit you came in? Robes are a lifesaver when it comes to quick changes, relaxing backstage between hair/makeup/fittings, and the ultimate outfit to get your hair and makeup done in (think about it, you don't want to destroy your hair/makeup by pulling a t-shirt over your head). My other favorite show day outfit is a button-down because of this same reason, I can slide it on and off with ease. Game-changer.
Anyway, try packing all of that in a backpack: it's impossible. Show day is quite exhilarating considering we have no idea what we will wear out on the runway, but forgetting just one thing from that list above is enough to ruin ANY model's day.
Until around noon, all of us models sat stagnant and had nothing to do (and this is typical of fashion shows). From 8am-12am, we chatted around, listened to music, read books, and let the time slip away by draining our phone batteries. Meanwhile, the fashion designers slowly dripped in and began organizing their clothes on the designated rolling racks that lined the hallways (there were no less than 70 racks). In another corner of the room, the hair and makeup crew plugged in their curling irons, taped up mood boards of makeup sketches and set up their palettes to prepare for the assembly line of models about to flood their seats. The only event the models partook in during those 4 hours was the test run of the show, where we were introduced to our ques and order for the show. The test run took an hour or two, so we were shuttled by our group (I was a part of the closing group - big flex), and when it was near our turn in the show's schedule, we walked the runway barefaced, in the clothes we arrived in.
The Test-Run:
After the run-through, we continued to sit and entertain ourselves until the designers/back-of-house crew were ready, and of course, that happened during our catered lunch.
Ironically, they brought all of the models Domino's pizza to be exact, which I unapologetically ripped to shreds. Though the stereotype of "models don't eat" is kind of accurate and lowkey assumed, there I was tearing up a lava cake to the disbelief of my fellow group members who watched me wide-eyed.
Around 3pm, a couple hours before showtime, everyone starts screaming (and this is typical of fashion shows). The director grabbed his megaphone and began ordering all the models to try on their outfits, while groups of models were wrangled into hair & makeup. At this point of any runway day, everyone is flying around in thongs, hunting down their duffel to bring their heel selection to the designer, all the while fretting over when they are supposed to get their hair and makeup done and by who. There are always schedules in place for what artist does X model's makeup, but typically production tosses the list out and just tells models to sit and wait for whatever artist is available first - chaos. Knowing the makeup/hair backlog, I decided to immediately go try on my outfit.
As a model in the closing group of the show, I knew it would be a good one. The designer handed me a hanger with a white paper attached signed "Monét", then proceeded to uncover a semi-iridescent green kimono stitched with red and gold swirls, accompanied with a teeny-tiny metallic pair of gold boyshorts to hide my most valuable asset - ya dig?
I tried it on and BAM - flawless fit. The most agonizing part of modeling (for me) is the fear that I may not fit in the clothes they have planned for me (they always pick models and decide what they are wearing based on measurements/your look). Though they always have every ounce of my physical information, it is still quite nerve-wracking because they have picked YOU specifically for this outfit and they only have one size...so it better fit. Alas, my outfit fit flawlessly and the designer selected the gold heels I brought in my duffel (see - always bring everything), so I changed back into my robe, said thank you, and left my heels with him.
As I walked back through the double-lined hallway of clothing racks and headpiece tables, I saw practically everybody nude - and that's normal! Men and women are changing in the same vast room, shoulder to shoulder, Adam and Eve, all the time in the fashion world. In every show I have walked in, I can attest that they don't separate models and honestly, nobody cares! Next time you go to a fashion show, just know every model is flashing one other backstage, but we're desensitized to it so it's chill.
Nevertheless, I dashed down the hall through the sea of pasties to arrive back at my group's table to see what was next. In a matter of seconds, I was grabbed by the director and placed in the hair and makeup line where I struck up a conversation with a fellow model. As he and I chatted about RuPaul's Drag Race (ironically), CARSON KRESLEY SHOWED UP RIGHT BEHIND ME. Carson was wearing a velvet suit in the most royal purple I've ever seen - and I must say, he looked fantastic. As I was about to turn around and fangirl, I was whisked away into a makeup artist's chair (Megan Bankhead - she killed it) where I began my transformation from a normie to an otherwordly creature that none of my group recognized during our line-up.
Post Makeup:
My designated group was instructed to have this ethereal, pearl-imbued look. I had MASSIVE white eyelashes glued to my top and bottom lash line, which blocked 80% of my view. She contoured my face to the gods, painted my shaved eyebrows a blinding white, and applied pearl appliques to my face to seal the look.
After makeup, I was put in a hair stylist's chair where she slicked my hair back and secured my headpiece.
The Complete Look:
My headpiece was a crown attached to a long black wig - marking my first time having black hair. The wig was accompanied by ridiculously long green tassels and the encrusted crown pictured above (very sass).
I was quickly undressed and dressed (that's another thing, runway shows hire "dressers" who strip you down/dress you up at record speeds) into my runway outfit, and before I knew it, it was showtime!
Considering I was a member of the closing group, I had quite some time to observe the show from the inside out. I remember listening to the thumping music from the hallway and watching all the models stomp the runway through the TV screens backstage. I also got to watch everybody run backstage after they walked, high on the adrenaline rush from the lights, camera, and the crowd losing it over your badass outfit.
When it was time for my group to line up behind the left wing of the stage, I remember everybody asking me, "Who are you? Are you in the wrong group". When I said "Be so forreal, it's me" they ALL fell over laughing, gawking at how severely my makeup/hair changed my appearance. I remember we were hushed by an assistant director with a walkie-talkie, but nobody said sorry, and at that moment, the first guy in line was signaled to walk out. Before I knew it, I was next in line, with the only thing separating me from the ballroom of guests being this thick, black curtain. I did my honorary fix-my-posture routine: clasped my hands behind my back and pulled until my shoulders and back resembled the beginning of a backbend.
Then I got the tap.
Before I could even register it was my turn to walk, my legs automatically sent me out from behind the curtain and into the mega ballroom.
When you get out on the runway, it's like you nearly black out. I remember walking up the steps to the runway and pleading with myself to step correctly and calmly, don't look down, but DO NOT FALL. The second I made it onto the raised, cross-shaped runway, it was all about walking with the best posture possible while maintaining an elegance to every movement, all the while strategizing how to avoid a collision in the center of the runway. What was nifty about this stage was how it was a highway of runways, with 1 model on every leg of the "t" shaped stage, passing one another in the intersection while drummers flocked the corners of the center intersection (yeah, the stage was BIIIIIG BIG and BIG BUSY). As I started down the right leg of the stage, posed, pivoted, and walked back toward the center, I noticed all 4 models on the runway were going to be in the center at the same time. Of course. We looked at each other quickly and managed to maneuver around each other wordlessly like New Yorkers in Times Square: utterly flawless. Once I cleared the intersection, I started down the front middle portion of the stage: the main character moment perse. As I walked, I knew the screens flanking the runway were spanning all of me: from my feet to my head, strutting down the runway looking as tall and serious as ever. All I could think of is: serve.as.hard.as.you.can.and.please. don't.fall.
Mid-Walk
When this picture was shot, I was thinking about pulling my shoulders back, calming my severe arm-swinging habit, placing one foot in front of the other, while focusing on what direction I turn toward at the end of the runway. The magical thing is: every model thinks of these things as they walk, for real.
Don't be fooled, a model's "walk" is anything but natural. Instead, it's a carefully constructed movement models practice incessantly, or at least I do. Runway walks are expected to encompass straight, picturesque strides that appear smooth yet full of oomph, with shoulders and arms perfectly balancing the line of stiff yet fluid in motion. It is a runway model's job to master that difficult movement and make it appear as its antithesis: effortless. Most importantly, you cannot, no matter what, forget to ~serve~
That is why we practice.
Incredibly, I cleared all 4 legs of the runway with no directional missteps or problems, WHAT A WIN! I too experienced that rush of excitement that comes flooding once you arrive backstage post-walk, and within a minute or two, I was lined up with the rest of the models to take our final walk as a massive posse down the runway. After a runway show, the party typically continues and this show was no exception. I remember running around in my runway outfit above, taking pictures with party guests, many of which smelled like high-end liquor, and were very excited to see me up close and snap a pic for their Facebook. I ended up badgering a couple of photographers while dressed up as well, obtaining their business cards to ensure I received the pictures from the show. After I made my rounds and began to feel my heels blister, I went backstage to shed of my beautifully adorned but heavy headpiece and outfit. I found the rack my group's clothes were held on, slid off the kimono and boyshorts, and hung them up on the hanger that said my name. I then ran back through the hall in an open robe and managed to locate my duffel bag so I could slip back into my loungewear (which felt heavenly).
At this time, many of the models were invited to stay for the DIFFA afterparty, which was hosted at the highly decorated bar on the lobby floor and sadly, I was not able to attend. Instead, I hopped in my car and drove 2 hours from Dallas back to College Station - in full makeup I'd like to add.
Buccees Stop (non-negotiable)
So I drove home on that post-show high and didn't touch the pavement until I arrived a Buccees, and yes, I walked in just like this. I remember receiving the craziest stares while grabbing my large Icee and cup of cookie dough, but I didn't mind, nobody was going to stop me from grabbing some Buccees. As I walked back to my car with snacks in hand, I realized I was allowed to take my lashes off, so for the remainder of the drive I looked exactly like this picture above, sans the insane eyelashes.
When I got home, I unpacked my duffel and took off my makeup, pearl by pearl. It is quite surreal that I have walked in a fashion show such as this, but even crazier waking up the next day for classes at Texas A&M remembering I was in Dallas the night before, walking in an insane show no less.
I figured I would share my experience since many people don't know what goes on behind the curtain at a fashion show. The other day I attended a show for the very first time, which showed me just how well directors/production shield the public from the chaos and hysteria that goes on backstage - so here I am illuminating that side to you!
To summarize what it is like to walk in a runway show, I would say;
you arrive early and wonder why
sit around for what feels like forever (bring a snack)
hair/makeup/fittings time arrives and suddenly everyone is screaming that you have no time and we are "running behind"
you get dressed piece by piece, some people are fully hair/makeuped hours early and others are rushed through the makeup table 30 minutes before the show
showtime arrives
you get 100% ready/dressed and wind up lined up and standing in your heels for a whiiiile before it's your turn
then BAM you're out there, having your moment
and in a couple of seconds, it's over... and it was great !!!
None of this was written to slight the fashion industry or working as a runway model, in fact, it is my favorite gig to book because of the personality surrounding runway days. I have met tons of fabulous models backstage, met truly gifted artists and designers I am proud to have represented, and have enjoyed the nuances of the fashion industry and facilitating fashion firsthand for others to enjoy.
At the end of the day, on runway days I am sitting in a room for 10-12 hours for 30 seconds on stage, so appreciating the process is a key part of truly enjoying the role of "model". I love witnessing how the seemingly disorderly/crazy backstage atmosphere behind fashion shows results in a beautiful, luxurious event for thousands of people - and they don't even know the half of it.
Credit to my previous modeling agency, Alice Laura Models who facilitated my booking of this gig. Credit to Danny Campbell for the vertical runway shots. Finally, credit to DIFFA for hiring me and inviting me back every year since :)
Thank you for the view into the workings behind the scenes. As many of your shows that I have attended, I had no clue