“Victor, I’m twenty six. That’s a hundred and five in model years.” ~ Bret Easton Ellis: Glamorama
They’d cut her last shoot down from one hour to forty minutes, an ominous sign.
As she walked into the studio she saw the usual lineup of girls waiting, very young – younger than ever she thought – and half naked, and it hit her like lightning: she was now a has-been.
The photographer was rushing her, no longer the admiring hulk he once was, she felt mortified, his tone of voice hardly hiding his impatience.
She had only one haste now: finish the shoot, get dressed and leave this desolate landscape, leave behind all the falsehood, the pretending, the jealousies…
Then she thought of him, the calm man she had rejected so many times, who had told her to come to him once it was over: would he still want her now, now that her supermodel career was gone?
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What a beautiful and sad story. Hope she did not wait too long to be loved
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I like this very much. Feeling her despair and hoping she reaches out.
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Excellent post my friend. Twenty-Six equals one hundred and five…I think I’d rather be a dog or a cat. At least when they get old they are still loved.
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Oh to have a fellow waiting in the wings… As always, Honoré, lovely writing :)))
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Wow, such emotion. The moment one becomes a has been 😦
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Not nice to be made to feel old and dejected. You wrote it beautifully as I could feel her sadness and desolation. xx
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This is such a powerful statement about what society thinks of regarding beauty.
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So sad – I pray she didn’t wait too long for her love.
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I adore you ..I hope you know this mon ami. Your words are stunning …bellissima! Grazie for sharing! Bells Xxx (btw…I never stopped following u…just accidentally hit a wrong button earlier this morning **kisses sweetly on ur cheek**)
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