I can’t believe I was just watching the season finale of Dr Who starring David Tennant last Friday, and here I am in London reading about how the Scottish actor known in pop culture as Barty Crouch, Jr. in Harry Potter is going to be playing Hamlet on stage.
Like in New York, wherein the city is preparing for the Spring 2009 season, the British Fashion Council announced the line up and schedule for London Fashion Week slated from Sep 14 – 19.
But, I’m not here for fashion week. I’m here to visit my parents and believe it or not, my two roommates are both here with me due to an unexpected turn of events.
I have to accept, having Imadge and Milan around gave my mother a reason to go shopping, something she loves doing, but seldom had the time. With the women out at Harrods, my father and I just walked around London, the old man lamenting the fact that Prince William seem to be the cover of every tabloid.
“For a very enlightened world, it never cease to amaze me how much gossip is actually printed everyday!” my father said, half laughing half in disdain. “There must be more important stories than whether Prince William and his girlfriend had a spat or how far apart are Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt’s twins.”
“That’s what sells Dad. The papers still have to make money, you know.”
“True, and that’s what I was scared of. Is journalism being run by the dollar sign, the pound sign or the euro sign?” He was going to say more when we saw my mother and my roommates go out of Harrods with Milan ready to do a cartwheel.
“I’ve been scouted,” Milan gushed. “This guy Errol, he is a model scout. He gave me his card and explained to me that he will introduce me to modeling agencies.”
I looked at Imadge who nodded, but threw her hands up in the air, as if saying she does not know more than what Milan had said. I looked at my mother. She nodded but unsure of what was happening.
“This very pleasant young man named Errol approached us, introduced himself and explained that he is a model scout. He said that Milan has potential and would like to bring her to several modeling agencies here in London, but would prefer it if it was in New York because he is from New York,” my mother said.
My father quizzically looked at my mother, wanting to know how she knew so much.
“Oh, Errol thinks that I’m Milan’s mother, so it was to me that he gave his card and explained that he cannot make promises, that it’s really up to the agencies to decide if they will represent Milan. He also advised that Milan should prepare some photos. He said that polaroids will do.” The last sentence, my mother was looking at me, implying that Milan should not submit polaroids because I can actually shoot some photos of her.
And that’s how it was decided that tomorrow would be a good day to go out in the country and do a shoot.