There’s a scene in the movie “The Devil Wears Prada” where Anne Hathaway’s character, on her first day working for Runway magazine, takes a message over the phone and says, “And how do you spell Ga-bahn-na?” I thought that was one of the funniest scenes in the movie.
As you can imagine, my slot in life right now isn’t too far off from that kind of cluelessness. I too got a call from Dolce & Gabbana (that’s how you spell it), though indirectly. A temp agency called me and I agreed to pretty much what you’d call slave labor. I’ll be staffing D&G’s sample sale next week, a scenario in which women who can still afford couture line up at dawn to madly scramble into a store with pre-release designer items when the doors open. Not convinced that’s hell enough? The gig is 80 hours in six days. That’s 13-15 hour days. And while I wasn’t stuck with a runner assignment, I have been tasked to be a cashier. Umm.. my employment agency must think highly of me. I haven’t handled money in so long because I haven’t had any of it. I’m not sure I still know how to count.
Still, it is an honor. I am honored to get a bulk sum of money at the end of this ordeal. I am honored to pay rent, finally. I am honored I know how to spell Gabbana.
You gotta take what comes your way. That’s why for the last two months I’ve been giving free labor to a travel website which will remain unnamed in this blog (to feed into my paranoia). It’s not a bad gig, except for the part where I do actual work and NOT GET PAID. It’s the only way into magazines though, and I’m learning stuff. Lately I’ve been sent to a couple of cool events where I have wasted no time in alienating every magazine editor I meet.
“Hi! What magazine are you with? Cool. So…. how do I get a job there?”
I figure I have nothing to lose. Unless of course my boss happens to check this blog. In which case, Hi! I really liked your green sweater the other day.
Last night the event was at an Italian boutique on Madison Ave. God, I miss hors d’oeurves and free booze. When I worked for magazines in Manila, I had croquettes and canapes and champagne, like, every other day. Now you know why I am adamant about working for a magazine.
The event photographer -a lush, gorgeous man with dark, wavy hair and big brown eyes- asked if he could take my photo with one of the event hosts. I instantly picked up my glass of bellini and smiled. The photographer -beautiful man that he is- laughed loudly. “Most people,” he said, “instantly get rid of their drinks when I ask for their photo, but you instead picked yours up.”
I’ve got a lot to learn.
In the meantime, please to enjoy a couple of birthday photos. The first one is me and my visiting brother at dinner, pre-drinks. The next one –the Jack Sparrow hat says it all.
SPOT THE DIFFERENCE
oh man i missed seeing you in that pirate’s hat
your lil story about your boss and his green sweater made me laugh.
and good luck with the sample sale gig. GOD i wouldn’t wanna be in a room full of carrie bradshaws at a D&G sale most of all, but with this fickle economy, i have a gut feeling they won’t be as enthusiastic as the previous times i actually had the stomach to go to one of those things :p
good luck!
thanks! i’ll let you know if there’s cool stuff worth checking out at the sale.
and about the hat, i stole that from the bartender that night. by the time he got it back he was pretty annoyed, hehe.