(post from 2017)
Once there was a girl who let herself get stepped on and treated like shit before she got it together, quit the SOB, and now happily stands up for herself on the reg.
A story in two parts.
I really like my eyes. In fact they get me roughly 1/2 of my jobs, I think. So when my (first ever) agent was looking through my new headshots, suggested by him, with wardrobe suggested by him (see photo below…I was so concerned about pleasing him, you can almost see it in my eyes!) I though he would be quite happy. After a few weak comments, he glances up from his desk and casually retorts, “so you’re fixing your eyebrows, right?”
What? I can barely pluck these suckers. They are naturally super thin. I have literally been growing them (yes thats a thing) for years. But apparently not well enough. Of course the only part of my body that is deemed “too-thin” for Hollywood is something I have zero control over. Well to the rescue, my agent calls me and patches in a salon on a 3-way call to make an appointment within 24 hours of our last meeting. The salon belongs to “A“, apparently the eyebrow scientist of the decade (…was there an eyebrow scientist of a previous decade? I must have missed the Nobel Award show that year). She will remain unnamed as I know a lot of people know her.
And not only that but he promises an “extreme discount” to boot. I agree and leave the skinny set alone for 2 months.
I had to endure multiple explanations to everything from makeup artists (“can I just pull like 10?!”) to asian manicurists (“So just nails? No eyebrow? You look like need eyebrow?”…she missed out on a much larger tip). But mission accomplished.
And my appointment day came and I drove all the little way to Beverly Hills and managed to find free one hour parking (they have it so good over there).
I am approached by this woman who doesn’t even bother to introduce herself or ask a single question about my skin or my preferences before she lays me down in a dentists-type chair and starts slathering me with goo and ripping it off. But I suck it up, pain is beauty, and then she runs me through a little lesson on how I should fill them in, her lovely over-priced makeup line in full sales-swing. After she does this she holds up a mirror for me, dentist chair style, and asks what I think.
I hated it. They were so dark and so fake looking. I thought I looked like Frida Kahlo. And my skin broke out like crazy from the wax/products.
Needless to say I declined the offer to purchase her products and buy Latisse (the new expensive stuff that makes your eyelashes grown) for my brows. And right when I though the grueling 13 minutes of my life was done, the lovely receptionist in Chanel politely hands me my bill. $70! An entire shift at work. What was the discount? 10%.
Am I on a hidden camera show??
So i take a few deep breaths and leave a tip on my card because I am a professional. As I’m fighting back tears out the door the receptionist calls out to me to tell me I don’t have to leave a tip for the salon owner. Yea. Right…like I’m gonna walk back through a crowd of rich bitches reading Vogue and erase a $15 tip off a receipt.
So that day we all lost a little something.
-My face lost some hairs
-My bank account lost a paycheck
-My eyes lost some tears
-And most importantly…my pride lost some dignity….its ok, Frida suffered for her art too, right?
(Cut to 2017)
This SHOULD HAVE been an BIG RED FLAG for me about this agent.
But I was so shiny and new I thought this was just something that happened. And look, sometimes it does. It’s an agents job to make you the most marketable possible. They can suggest things like “lose a few pounds” in a polite manner (yes this has happened to me also and I will tell you ALL about it) or chat with you about audition look specifics, but they took you on as a client as you are. And they should never ever pressure you (especially via a 3 way phone call, this is NOT Mean Girls) into doing something you A. don’t agree to and B. aren’t given all the details upfront.
This guy was a dick. Continue to part 2…