Beauty Fail Story

For school, our assignment was to find a picture that related to our blog topic, and to write a story about it.

I looked ridiculous, but this was my only modeling job I had since moving. My mom was always asking how my modeling career was going in New York. I had taken my college savings, and left the small town in Connecticut for the big apple. It has been six months since then, and things had not worked out as planned. I moved into a box of an apartment, and tried to get my name out there. I had been turned down by countless companies, and at last, I had found one that would take me. The designer was a tiny man, who wore layers upon layers of animal skins. He never took of his sun glasses, and always had a glass of Brandy in his hand. His name was Chartreu, no last name, like Cher. His fashion designs are wild and extravagant, often making no sense at all. I thought he was joking when he told me what I was going to be wearing. He wasn't. There I was, about to walk my first runway in New York, with a shoe strapped to my head. This is not a good start to my modeling career.