Matthew Hunt, our Ford image guru. (AP Photo/Bernadette Tuazon)
It's fashion week again, and dozens of men and women are getting paid to walk while wearing clothes.
OK, maybe it's a little more complicated than that. But how hard can it be for the huge reward -- the VIP room access, dates with rock stars and compensation that would surely trump an AP salary?
Our egos swelled and paychecks skimpy, we set out for Ford Models in New York to find out just how hard it is to do the high-fashion strut. We could picture it: Ford would beg us to give up our noble profession and become fashion icons. Bedazzled agency scribes would ask us for autographs. Supermodels would tremble in our wake.
And for the finale: A "Zoolander"-style walkoff.
Our teacher was Matthew Hunt, one of the firm's image gurus and a mighty snazzy dresser. It's Hunt's job to troubleshoot bad walking.
According to Hunt, it takes anywhere from 10 minutes to two fashion seasons for a model to get his or her walk down. People with backgrounds in Pilates, yoga or dance tend to catch on quicker. Good posture and confidence are the runway model's most important attributes.
And don't be too sexy. "Designers would rather see a low key walk and then sex it up," he said.
Obviously this was going to be a problem for us.
INSIDE THE MODEL LOUNGE
He says:
"Can I have a pencil?" (AP Photo/Bernadette Tuazon)
Going into our catwalk lesson, I try to think about how models walk, but the best I can do are images from "Zoolander," a George Michael video and the Victoria's Secret Fashion show I saw on the Internet a couple years ago. Runway walking seems complicated and mysterious.
I'm almost incredulous when, during a question and answer session, Hunt explains that for male models, at least, the object is to pretty much walk in a normal fashion.
"A guy with a real stylized walk would just look insane. You'd get laughed out of town," Hunt said. "With the guys, it's 10 times easier because they just want them to look like normal guys."
Normal? I begin to relax until a few minutes later, when I realize that "normal" is a lot more complicated then it sounds.
She says:
I'm pretty confident when we meet our walking coach. For starters, unlike Jonathan, I've been to dozens of fashion shows. And Matthew's words are music to my ears: Someone with dance, yoga or Pilates experience is usually a natural.
At last my years of ballet training are going to pay off.
"Some people are just aware of what their bodies look like and some people are just completely clueless," he says.
Jonathan is going down.
But just as I'm getting confident, there's a shock: Matthew says guys have a natural advantage. They just have to walk normally and keep it cool, calm and casual.
For ladies, it's more involved. Our walk is more stylized. Plus we're the ones wearing the 6-inch heels.
LEARNING TO WALK:
He says:
When a newby model arrives at Ford, the imagemakers critique his or her strut by having them casually walk down an office hallway, the same place Hunt leads Siobhan and me. Before I get the chance to try my first test-walk, Hunt begins to deconstruct how "normal" should look, and beads of sweat start crawling down my back.
--"You don't walk well if you're slouching forward"
--"Make sure your arms are like silk ribbons with weights hanging off them."
--"It's sort of a brisk clip ... but sort of a languid, fluid gait."
I take a deep breath and begin my walk. I'm thinking carefully about my posture, my gait, keeping my neck and shoulders rigid, walking purposefully but not too slow or fast.
Flabbergasted by my performance, Hunt asks me, "Do you feel like you have a pole up your ass?"
She says:
Hustle and flow. (AP Photo/Bernadette Tuazon)
Now my nerves set in. In front of us is a long hallway with granite-colored walls right next to about 20 people working at their sleek Apple computers.
What do these people think we are doing? We bump into Naima, America's former Next Top Model. Are we ugly ducklings amongst the swans? Or are the people here so used to hopefuls swarming their office that they won't notice us strutting back and forth?
Before we start walking Matthew runs down a few last-minute pointers: Shoulders back, hips under, neck long -- all things I should be able to remember from ballet, or so I thought.
When women hit the end of the runway, he says, they should pose as if they are asking a friend for a pencil or a cigarette -- an inside trick of the trade. Asking that sort of question would be casual, he explains. You wouldn't rush up to a friend when you ask them, and you wouldn't try to act sexy and stick out your booty either.
PRACTICE, PRACTICE, PRACTICE:
He says:
If Frankenstein were a male model. (AP Photo/Bernadette Tuazon)
I soon learn that the mechanics of walking aren't the tricky part. What's hard is being confident and having good posture while walking in front of dozens of cameras, fashion executives, reporters and probably J.Lo and Madonna.
With only a couple of my colleagues watching, it's extremely difficult to relax and feel comfortable. I can't imagine how much more difficult it is for the models. Hunt keeps telling me to just walk normally. It doesn't work.
"His neck is still stiff," he mutters during a practice run. "Doesn't move. Spinal cord fusion."
She says:
All those last-minute pointers from Matthew? Flew right out of my head.
My first run down the catwalk is pretty bad to say the least. "Faster! Longer strides! One foot in front of the other" is all I hear from 10 feet behind me.
I'm trying to do what Matthew suggested, but wind up looking stiff. I completely forget to ask for a pencil, and because of my nerves, I can't help but smile as I walk -- a total no-no for a runway model.
Still, I figure I have an edge over Jonathan for our pending grudge match. He has to look cool, calm and relaxed. He doesn't.
THE WALKOFF:
He says:
"Let's throw this bitch down," Hunt says as Siobhan and I get our game faces on for the culmination of our lesson, the walk-off.
I am ready to win this: the bragging rights, the satisfaction, the confirmation that I have learned the catwalk style. When I return to work, everyone in the AP newsroom, about the size of two football fields, will peer from behind their monitors to observe my languid-but-brisk and "normal" strut.
Despite all my practice, my final walk turns into a disaster. Siobhan and the AP photographer who came along begin to snicker at the stiffness I still can't shake, and by the end of hallway, I'm laughing too.
She says:
And the obvious winner is... (AP Photo/Bernadette Tuazon)
It's time. I strut, trying not to look stiff. I am taking longer strides and remember to ask for a pencil at the end of the runway, but I still can't stop smiling.
My competition is clearly struggling. He looks like a robot. Matthew can't help but yell at him to loosen up.
I'm not worried as Matthew huddles with another Ford model employee who helps with the judging. It's the moment of truth -- and I'm the winner.
Matthew says Jonathan simply can't walk.
"It's so regular you can't even do it," he says. "You're irregular."
Guess we should keep our day jobs.
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asap reporter Jonathan Drew and graphic designer Siobhan Dooley are still working on their "blue steel."
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