This was excruciatingly exciting for me for two reasons:
1. Unless this is your first visit here, or you’ve been living under a rock made out of much, much more important and relevant things, I am spastically in lust with the entire Top Model franchise, and hope one day to marry it. Our babies will be tall and stupid and punch walls and get nose-bleeds. It will be excellent. Excellent and sexy.
2. For the first time, the Sydney cattle-call fell on a weekend rather than a weekday, so I was able to attend.
And attend, it’s fair to say, I did. In fact, I auditioned. I hauled my size ten-to-twelve, late-thirties, mildly-pleasant-looking-but-nothing-special arse out to Parramatta and lined up with hundreds of tiny wee gazelle-y things straight from either school or outer space.
The experience was very, very educational. Here’s what I learned:
· That Top Model auditions contain lots and lots of shoes I want, worn by people who don’t deserve them as much as I do.
· That if being looked up-and-down with judgement and disdain was chocolate, Westfield Parramatta is the Wonka family crypt.
· That the hilarity of desperate stage mothers never, ever gets old, unlike the stage mothers themselves.
· That given the right motivation, I can keep a straight face under any circumstances.
· That if my red boots and my moonwalk were both in a competition for The Best Thing Western Sydney Has Ever Seen Ever, it would be a tie.
Don’t take my word for it. TAKE A CURRENT AFFAIR’S WORD FOR IT. Because everybody knows that everything you see on A Current Affair is true. Except for that deluded bitch at the end of the clip. What a wanker.