Warning! This post contains only text. Read it feckers, it's good for you.
I wrote this post while in Chicago, it's has just been resting in the mean time.
Basically the same as day #2 with a few adjustments. Went to the gym instead of the pool, spent the day waiting, waiting, waiting, walking, waiting, waiting, only this time the walking was done on stage with lights, film and music filling the surroundings. One of the film pieces they showed on big, big screens was the one we made in London. It’s a strange feeling seeing your own face, blown up to become five metres high, flash across your eyes for a split second. Not too happy about my work though, I look pissed off in a bad way, in the film and in the book (yes, there’s a book as well!) because I tensed my jaw and mouth area too much. Damn, I know I can do better than this. And no better luck next time, there is no next time.
Mike Esa, the choreographer/producer/man-in-charge was brilliant. Shut up, pay attention, listen, do what I just said – kind of style, which was very effective and easy to comprehend. Hence we finished on time.
Well, sort of. The rehearsal bit finished according to plan, but the TIGI team ordered the girls to go get their hair colouring done, or at least started. Luckily for me they decided to do me the next day. I went back to the hotel and did nothing, which wasn’t really that different from what I’d been doing most of the day already, but now I was in charge of deciding when to start doing something.
My doing nothing was however interrupted by Hunger. (Damn those basal needs, telling me when I need to do what…) On my way down I ran into Jeanette and Charlotte in the lift, both with their hair full of hair dye and capes around their shoulders. Apparently they shut off everything, including the water, during evenings and nights at the McCormick place centre. Unfortunately no one had told the TIGI team this. What do you do? You send your models running back to the hotel to wash their own hair.
The girls, including me, ate at the bar in the evening, I ate chicken tendrils, no vegetables were included (I don’t count fries to be vegetables, they’re just potatoes metamorphosed into pure junk food). I do believe I am in America, the land of the fat.