The Results May Vary

Observations from my Mixed Up World

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IMTA Log: Day Two

Day two at IMTA has been pretty exhausting.  Exhilarating but very long and it’s only 6pm.  I must be getting old.  We started the day off with a great seminar on the business of acting in LA.  Lots of great questions and some good insider tips.

We had lunch at our favourite Cafe Metro.  But before that we saw the women’s jeans competition and rushed back for the men.  Here are some photos.












Justin is the hunk above this photo.


They may look like models, but actually my wife and I got some quick plastic surgery last night.  You believe me, don’t you???

Milo competed in head shot and screen test today.  He really stood out among the boys in his category.  I’ll post the video clip on YouTube soon.

Tonight we are off on the Circleline tour of Manhattan.

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IMTA Log: Day One

Here we are:


After a great night’s sleep, got up and hit Starbucks.  I know, I know… that sounds like every other day in my life, but today I got my venti in NYC.  Then we got all dressed in our Geoffrey Chapman red and whites and headed to the Hilton.  We found the other 21 members of our party and waited to get our badges and schedules.

Here we are getting organized and then our group photo:

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Here are the boys getting ready for action.  Frankie, Justin and Nick.




Group photo by Letterman.


We attended an acting workshop with TJ Stein from LA and then a performing Master Class with Henry Ravelo from NY.  Both were really great at  getting Milo into the groove.  Henry sure made Milo get his dancing shoes on with some fun choreo.

There must be over 2000 models and actors here.  The orientation was wild.  Over the top is the order of the day here.  There must be 10,000 miles of long legs on display and enough spike heels to build a railway to Alaska.

We were so pumped to see that Milo made it through to the preliminary singing competition.  He kept everyone around him amused waiting for his turn.  For him, nerves lead to endless chatting.  It’s a good thing people like to be around him.  Milo was very confident coming out of his closed set session.  All of our fingers are crossed.

So much to see and do.  Tomorrow holds endless new opportunities.

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Snapshots of a Photo Shoot

We’re gearing up for a big trip to New York City so that Milo can participate in the International Models and Talent Association (IMTA) competition in July.  That has meant extra acting classes and the need to update the shots in his portfolio.  Last Saturday, the agency brought a great photographer in from Michigan to do a photo shoot.  You’ve already seen the chilling picture I posted about doing Milo’s ironing so you can imagine the preparation needed.  It was the first time I got to attend a shoot as Milo did his last shoot with his mom.  We had a great day.  It was fascinating to see how Milo’s agent put clothes together to create a look and then worked with the hair and makeup stylist to create a whole image.  There were quite a few models around also getting looks put together and the whole atmosphere was pretty festive.  I’m continually impressed with what the agency pulls off but there were some great moments that stood out that day.  One of the models was doing a construction worker look with cut off jeans and a sleeveless jean jacket and doesn’t Geoff pull out a pair of 5″ stiletto heeled work boots.  Awesome.  I wish I took a picture of those boots.  I certainly enjoyed the discussion about which pair of boots looked best with another model’s little black dress.  It’s pretty cool how a pair of boots changes the whole impact of a look.  Grommets, no grommets, shiny or dull, cork heel or platform.  It’s more work than it seems.

Milo got to shoot classic head shots in a solid blue top, green pants combo.  There was a slick looking look with a purple dress shirt and a green tie.  Then he moved into some artistic looks.  The 1920’s newsboy tough and the jaded punk looks I got some pictures of.

Without further ado… here are some shots I took with my phone while on location.

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The High Price of Fashion


For the last year or so, Milo has been growing his hair long on the top.  In my mind this is ok since as a child of the 80’s, I always wanted to have my head with shaved sides and long locks on top.  I mean, who didn’t want to look like they were part of the Smiths?  So despite promising never to try and live vicariously through my kids, I am trying out hairdos through Milo that my balding pate won’t support.  The problem with Milo is that he won’t cut any of his hair and so his head starts to look more like a big foam microphone instead of a slick model’s signature style.  It also makes him look even younger than he really is.  So my worldly, 10 year old actor/model looks six.  Not really helping with his self-image.

My wife and I have been pushing him to get more control over his messy microphone head and are constantly showing him different ideas that will make him seem in better control of his hair.  These attempts have been fought off with the enthusiasm and determination of 300 Spartans faced by an army of Greeks.  Why we teach our kids to stand up for themselves and think critically on their own, I’m not sure.  They are only supposed to do that when faced with peer pressure to do drugs or drink and drive.  I never planned for them to resist my sage wisdom.

Enter into the equation my new found enjoyment of watching Marco Reus playing for both Germany and Borussia Dortmund.  Now there is a dude with awesome skills and a wicked haircut.  I may have a bit of a man crush but that may be another post.  So I started in on Milo just before a scheduled hair appointment.  Milo’s love of soccer is only slightly more than his love of hearing me offer my wisdom to him.  So, naturally he attempted to be the philosophical immovable object and I played the irresistible force.  Unfortunately for Milo, I have studied all of the times that I have failed to be immovable in the face of my children and waited for the slightest waver.  When he finally admitted that Marco did indeed have stellar hair, I knew I had him.  I got him to concede that it might be an all right thing to do, sometime, maybe.

The next day, before he was really awake, I’d loaded him into the car and began ignoring his back pedaling pleas.  To ensure my victory, I brought along his IPad complete with all the images of Marco’s fine styling to show our stylist.  Once ensconced in the chair, my delightful offspring offered full arm chair quarterbacking for every snip of the stylist’s scissors.  He glared at me through

Marco Reus

the mirror with a venom that would do Medusa proud.  Normally a reluctant communicator, he mouthed crystal clear comments to me like “I hate you, you bastard!” and “I’m never going to forgive you for ruining my life, career and any chance of ever getting on the Disney channel.”  And then he made his worst mistake, in a fit of disgust he fumed, “Why don’t you just dye it some stupid colour too?”  That was too enticing for the stylist and me.  We had a slather of white blonde dye in his hair faster than he could gasp.  By then he was too flabbergasted to do anything other than moan.  His little head was wrapped up in plastic wrap and he was plunked under the hair dryer.  His sister jumped up and down with glee, pointing out to everyone in the salon that her brother looked just like an old woman sitting there.  Oh, did he fume!

As he later looked at the damage in the mirror, he teared up and refused to speak to me.  He looked about 5 years older, hair tight at the sides and back, long tresses on top and the very front section dyed white blonde.  The best looking kid I’d ever seen, he stormed out of the hair dresser’s and we wandered through the mall.  He did his best to hide it, but I caught him admiring himself in store mirrors and he was finally forced to admit that he did look great but hedged that he still hated me for making him do it.  I savoured my sweet victory for days.  Yay me!