GARAGE MODEL

Back in the Funkies I predicted that fashion shows would become the entertainment of choice as pop culture bopped into the 21st century. They were short, flashy, filled with 'tude and easy to digest. I was almost right. It wasn't fashion that distilled down into bite sized, sugar-coated niblets, rather it was the mannequins. Models and modeling have become institutionalized to the degree that every pretty young thing (girls mostly) with a TV set or a computer knows "the look", "the pose", "the do", "the strut" and "the pout". Forget being in a band with dreams of being a rock star. Become a model and you can get all the rock stars you want. Bevys of tweens are now skipping working at McDonalds, getting head shots, and trying to get an agent. They're modeling at home. Just turn on the I-phone and work it baby.
Shows like AMERICA'S TOP MODEL lay out all the cheezy, giggly banality to the degree that you'd think any tween with her head screwed on straight would run in the opposite direction. But, just like dirty old men, the tweens are sucked into the cathode flame. Before you know it they're mugging for the imaginary camera and shaving off nonexistent hair. They pack up and practice "vogueing" and dissing, as well as seeing who can sound street or faggy. "That's fabbbbbbuuuuuullllush beeeotch!" Don't get me wrong. I think this new avenue for expression is great. Like art, modeling can be taught. (How many songs you got written, Slick?) Why not start teaching yourself at 13? But, in the wise words of my supermodel friend Marianna Rothen- "Don't go pro until you can show your tits." In case my neices Sammi and Danni read my blog- that's 26.