This is the sixth part of Ali’s story, courtesy of her mother Patty (tFS user modelmom). Ali’s journal chronicles the beginning of her modeling career in Paris at 15 years old (which was in 2002). Patty’s comments are italicized and the format has been edited.
Not a great day in Paris. I went to the agency to talk to my booker, Florence. She handed me a list of 12 castings. I just looked at her and my mom told her that we were done with castings, and could we please know when we would be getting our tickets to go home?
Another agent, Sybil, came in to tell us that I had an option with Vogue France and to please stay until the photographer could meet with us. My mom thinks it’s just a way to get us to stay longer so she isn’t too happy as we walk out the door.
As we are leaving, another lady is coming in, and she stops us to ask how our day is going. My mom’s in no mood for chitchat and she says “About as bad as you can get”.
The lady replies she’s really sorry to hear that and then extends her hand and says “Hi, I’m Katie Ford."
She wanted us to come back inside and talk to her about coming to New York in January. So we did, and then my agent told her that I have an option for French Vogue. Mrs. Ford told us what an important thing it was for a model to be considered for that magazine. The photographer shows up and takes some polaroids and says he will call back and let my agent know if I’m booked for the job.
My mom took me back to the Buffalo Grill again tonight. She had been acting really weird all day long so I knew something was up. She had told me that [my horse] Cheyenne had been sick with West Nile virus and that she was going to recover. I started crying even though I knew she was going to be alright. I kept asking mom why she didn’t tell me. She doesn’t have to answer because I know that if she had told me I wouldn’t be sitting here tonight, and she knows it too. I walk out without eating and she pays the bill and we go back to the apartment.
My agent called to say the option for French Vogue fell through, but that a lady from an agency in London wants us to come to there on Monday to meet with her. My mom took the phone out of my hand to tell her that the only way we were going to London was if someone else was footing the bill for transportation and hotel. She knows there is not much chance of that happening. We are barely talking to each other at this point.
We went back into the agency to get my ticket and it seems that they have misplaced it. So my mom went all the way to the airport on the train, exchanged our tickets through the agent, and we were were scheduled to go home on Sunday. I called the agency to tell them we were leaving and this sweet lady named Patricia asked me how we were getting to the airport. I told her probably by cab and she told me please let her send a car.
After all this time in Paris, we finally get to ride in one of “the cars”.
I have to tell you what happened to us the last night in Paris. We went to bed early and later some models came in that were staying at the apartment for the weekend.
Michelle was out of town so they started partying till all hours. We knew we had to get up early so we shut our door and went to sleep. I woke up the next morning and walked into the living room. All the candles in the sconces on the wall had been left burning all night. The wall was scorched and there was candle wax all over Michelle’s leather furniture. If the candles had not burned down to the bottom of the wick….I’m not sure if we would have been here today……Viva La Paris!
Part 7 coming soon!