My Right Foot |
“Great." she responded, "Get down here as fast as you can.”
It was good news, since I was struggling with ad copy I had
to produce as part of a test to see if I had what it took to be a copywriter.
Either the male “foot model” hadn’t shown or he
had the wrong size foot, or various men's evening pump designers had sent over the wrong size. When I arrived at the studio – I no longer recall the
name of the photographer – I was quickly dressed in tuxedo trousers, red socks, and size 8.5 black "alligator" evening pumps.
The female foot model was already in place and my job became
holding on to her in various poses, while the camera was aimed at our lower
legs and adorned feet. My fiancé was present for the entire shoot, which took a
couple of hours while I had to hold on to the model who I recall as being quite
attractive above the shins as well as below. It was a lot more fun than writing
ad copy about Dunlop tennis racquets.
When the shoot was over, my fiance’s boss decided that the
appropriate compensation for my trouble was the pair of pumps and dinner for
two at Mr. Chow’s on 57th Street.
The photo shown above appeared in the magazine some months
later.
The pumps actually did not fit all that well, so I had to
use inserts so that they didn’t flop around too much. But, with the metallic
strip at the heel, they certainly stood out; I still occasionally wear them, although I’m no longer called on to wear evening clothes as often as I’d
like.
It turned out to be my only modeling gig. The copywriting
people, by the way, told me to forget about it; in retrospect, they couldn't have been more wrong.
We've never been back to Mr. Chow’s.
We've never been back to Mr. Chow’s.