A Japanese adventure…

This, the Japanese summer of 2016, is my first season as an international model. I have never been overseas for more than two weeks; never lived independently of my family’s financial and emotional support and have never modelled full time.

My first day modelling was shocking and, like New York, hectic, to say the least. I arrived at my agency in central Tokyo at midday and we were just running through final contract details when my manager alerted me that I already had four castings on my schedule starting at 4:30 pm. At around 1 pm I was taken to my apartment, which held nothing more than a single bed, a desk, some shelves and a tiny kitchen area one might confuse with a hole in the wall. My manager left me with the key, and knowing I had a few hours to settle in and collect my thoughts, I Face timed my parents.

I had just hung up after about 30 minutes when I got a ring at the door. My manager had rushed back to the building to tell me that he had made a mistake and that my castings were immediately. I was stunned. He said I had two minutes to get ready. I changed out of my sweaty clothes from the trek into Tokyo, scoffed down two tiny chocolates, the only food I had in my bag at the time and ran out of the apartment.

Waiting down stairs in front of a white van was my manager, standing next to a slim, dark haired girl smoking a cigarette, who I immediately registered as another model. She was leaning against a railing, wearing black high waisted jeans and a white crop top. Said hello and introduced herself as Samaya. I smiled at her and got into the van, where two other girls looked up vaguely to greet me. A tall blonde Canadian girl sitting in the back seat introduced herself as Jordan and a brunette with an eastern European accent sitting in the front seat, as Kris. The day was a whirlwind of first time, overwhelming experiences, made worse by the fact that I had barely eaten all day and was running purely on adrenalin.

My first casting was for a TVC advertising some kind of clothing product. We walked into the casting agents meeting room, had our photos taken on Polaroid film (a new, old trend finding its way back into the industry) and were given a sheet of paper with the storyline we were to audition for. I can’t reveal the full concept of the casting, but it essentially involved having us slowly reach for this product hanging off the back of a chair exclaiming, “Mushifawa? Mushifawa!” which translates as ‘soft’. Simple right? The problem was that Samaya kept giggling whenever someone said ‘Mushifawa’ which would set the rest of the models off into fits of stifled laughter. Everyone in the room, including the casting agents, eventually burst out laughing too.

It was a relief to get back to my apartment that night after a total of five castings that afternoon. This might not seem like much t0 a seasoned model but for someone who had never been to more than one casting in a month, it was certainly a new, exhausting experience.

Today is Sunday, my day off, and as I sit here at my desk in my tiny apartment, I have an unremarkable view of the street below. To the left stands a six-story bridal house that’s displays resemble something like an under-the-sea themed wedding cake from the 1960s. Just below the store lies the local subway station; which is, although not the most appealing view, a highly convenient bonus to compensate for the size of my living situation. Running next to the station is a four-laned road, which will host a total of horn honking and siren ringing in one day that one would hear in just two minutes in New York City.

I’m looking forward to the next few months not only for the jobs and the friends I’m going to make, but also because of how these experiences, especially at this stage of my life, will shape me forever.