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.
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:
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.
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.
This year, I will be reviewing the fashion show in photos. It was great and the models were fantastic. Shots of Milo in his white tux show his potential as a lady killer.
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
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!
You may be wondering about how things went while I was away. Well, there is an old military saying that the best laid plans will not survive first contact with the enemy. My problem seems to be that I can’t predict which enemy I need to plan to defeat. The lunch planning seems to have worked. Both kids and my wife appear nourished and hydrated. The things I made for them prior to departure were all used. One battle won. The texts from wife wife throughout day one did not indicate any sort of challenges although there was an email from Milo’s modeling agency that came through and required photos and his resume be printed out. Bed times and wake ups did not seem to pose any problems. Kids made it to music lessons OK. Dinner was pre-made and left for everyone. Did you see any landmines yet? I didn’t. I didn’t until the phone rang during dinner that night.
RING. RING. RING. I look down at the phone and see my own name looking back at me. A shiver passes through me like I am feeling someone walk over my grave. “Hmmm.” I mutter, “This can’t be good.” My friend graciously picks up his beer and looks towards the TVs.
Me: Hi, what’s up?
Wife: I’m trying to find Milo’s resume on the computer. Where the hell is it?
Me: It’s in the folder under My Documents called Resumes. (wincing at how condescending this sounds)
Wife: I’ve looked at a bunch and there all wrong.
Me: What do yo…
Wife: I see all of these old copies and there is none of the updated info in any of them. What the hell did you do last time?
Me: (start talking and after about 45 seconds realize that the cold silence at the end of the phone line is not just from her) Oh my God. My phone died. My buddy starts to chuckle and hands me his phone.
Me: Hi, my phone died. I am so sorry.
Milo: Hi dad. What are you doing?
Me: I’m trying to get a hold of your mother. Can I speak with her?
Milo: Hang on. (muffled words) Um… no.
Me: What do you mean, No?
Milo: (getting upset) She’s typing on the computer and she’s really mad. Mommy. PLEASE talk to Daddy. She won’t do it.
Me: Ok. Don’t worry. Tell her I’ll call her later. Love you. Bye.
My buddy: You’re dead. Waiter… more beer please!”
Fast forward to later that evening. Having plugged my Blackberry in and assured myself that I can’t pull the cord out or anything, I attempted another call. It seems that Milo got off the phone with me and ran downstairs to the kitchen. He engaged in potentially life saving behaviour by taking the bottle of Schnapps from the freezer and pouring some into the biggest glass he could find. He carefully approached his mother, set the glass beside her and fled. My wife had mellowed to the point that we could smile and talk. Oh, alcohol. For every time you get me in trouble, you solve a problem for me. Thank you. Thank you again.
Here is how the evening went for her. She got home from work and began discussing dinner with the kids. They stood in a circle in the kitchen looking down at the pre-made dinner I’d left them disdainfully like Gods unhappy with the burnt offerings of mortals. Unable to smite me, they chose to strike out on their own and have Kraft Mac and Cheese with a salad. The pot is set to boil and the salad is made. Hmm. The water in the pot appears to still be cold. Hey! No flame from the burner. Oh, yeah. Daddy said to turn it to lite. BOOOOOOM. The children fling themselves to the ground. The cats scatter. Geese in the pond over by the golf course take flight. Mommy is unfazed. She knew that would happen. Dinner gets made and the traumatized children eat every bite. Nothing is left. Music bags are packed and the trip to music class is unusually silent. On the way back, the kids begin to make congratulatory comments that although well meant will eventually piss their mother off. Things like, “Oh, mom. You stopped the car for the stop light. Great work.” and “Wow mom, we didn’t think you knew where music class was. Hat’s off for finding it.” Arriving home, my wife heads to the office and plans to quickly and effortlessly print out a single page of paper and one photo.
My wife has a love-hate relationship with technology. Mostly hate, actually. There are times when I think that technology hates her back. So as she begins to search through My Documents and realizes that she has no idea what the file is named. And there may be some small, well… tiny or perhaps minuscule element of responsibility on my part since I have a totally random naming convention for files. It was at this point that she discovered 8 or maybe 10 versions of Milo’s resume, each different and apparently none complete. She began to see the quick print job dissolving into a full editing job and called me. Regrettably, I can’t remember where or what I named the last resume and may not have actually remembered to save it and to top it all off, I appeared to hang up on her. Not so good for her temper or my future happiness. Oh, did I mention that one of the 9 ink cartridges is almost empty and makes printing the picture a seat of the pants, nerve shattering experience.
Well, that is a glimpse of the first day. The others got better and I made it home with gifts. Not such a bad idea, I think.
Milo’s modeling/talent agency participates in an annual fund raising event put on my Club Roma here in the Niagara area. It was pretty exciting that Milo was chosen to be one of the kids in the show. So of course as good parents, we bought tickets for Maya and ourselves to attend. I’ve got to say that I have no problem dropping $150.00 to support breast cancer screening but I can’t help but think that we made out like bandits. It was one of the most exciting evenings I’ve spent in a long time.
The Geoffrey Chapman Agency brought out 65 models, including about 20 kids aging from infants to teens, and put on an incredibly edgy and entertaining show. They used acrobats to walk amongst the models, flipping, jumping and even walking on their hands all the while holding signs identifying the shops that sponsored the show. I had dropped Milo off about 1 in the afternoon and the show began just after 9pm. They must have practiced for hours and it really showed because I couldn’t see a single misstep. How they ever sat on 20 kids and another 45 models for 8 hours I have not idea. I don’t like to sit on my 2 kids for even half an hour!
The meal was really superior. It started with a traditional antipasto plate, then fresh made lasagna. This was followed by a super stuffed chicken breast, rosemary roasted potatoes and a tossed greens salad. The dessert was red velvet cake – which I didn’t know had cream cheese icing until I took that first succulent bite. I ate it all and some of Maya’s. And I hate dessert generally.
It would not be right to finish without some praise for Maya. She sat and ate through a 3 hour dinner with no fuss. It was an amazing feat for a 5 year old and I didn’t mind the 27 trips to the bathroom. The exercise helped work off some of the cake.
One of the nice things about kids is that they tend to be terrible liars. When I was a kid, I couldn’t even intend to tell a lie to my mother without breaking out in nervous laughter. It really gives the whole thing away, when you walk in the room, take one look over at mom and then burst out laughing. I’d just turn around and walk back out. So I’m not sure what I was thinking when I started to teach Milo how to tell a lie that was both good and effective. How did I ever end up here?
Milo’s modeling agent wants us to take him to New York in the summer to take part in a huge modeling/talent convention. Since we aren’t sure if this is a good idea for us, we told Milo to keep quiet about it to his friends. One of our big fears is that our little egotist will alienate all of his friends if he isn’t careful. But is seems that Milo didn’t realize we were talking only about the New York possibility. He’s doing a bridal runway show this weekend and had to get measured for a tuxedo Monday night. The next day he really wanted to talk about his fitting but was scared that he wasn’t supposed to say anything. So he invented a cousin’s summer wedding as a pretext to the fitting. Now I find out that he’s been telling friends about how he can’t wait to score with the pretty flower girls and how he’ll be charming them all with his keen dance moves after the wedding. Note to self – time to cut him off from watching The Big Bang Theory.
So after he confesses all of this to me, I had to take the time to explain that we are only being closed mouthed about New York. The rest of the modeling gigs, he can share. Humbly. Very humbly. But that doesn’t solve one small problem. For Milo to do the bridal show this weekend, he needs to miss play practice. This will require some deception because he is not supposed to miss any practices. I figure since he is playing a Yeti and has only 3 lines in the whole play, he can miss one practice but I’m not about to say that. I’m also pretty sure that he can ad lib with some grunting and cavorting around but again, I can’t say so. So I laid out what we will tell the play’s producers. “Ok, Milo. We will tell the producers that we have to go out of town this Sunday and we were unable to avoid it.”
“Wow, Dad. That’s a great idea, because we really are going out of town. That’s like the truth.”
“That’s right. When you need to lie, you need to lie with the truth. That way you can say that you told the truth. You just didn’t tell the whole story. You always have to keep the story simple and as truthful as you can. That’s what makes it believable.”
The realization that I am training my son to lie like Machiavelli suddenly dawned on me. “And don’t think you can pull that shit with me, ” I told him, “You have to always tell me the truth. Or else.”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I won’t” Suddenly, I feel like June Cleaver accepting a compliment on my lovely dress from Eddie Haskel. What have I done?
The Results May Vary 