Delusion and foot sweat: Making fun of models at the Mall

by Brian Clarey

There’s a lull in the action just after lunchtime at the News & Record pavilion in High Point’s Oak Hollow Mall, according to Joe Sigman, director of promotions for the WCWG, the Triad’s CW television network affiliate.

“We were doing like forty or fifty an hour for the first two hours,” he says before dashing off to consult with the line of preening young women that is once again starting to grow along one of the mall’s pillared halls.

They’re here, each and every high-heeled one of them, to become the Next Big Thing, or at least take a shot at it, as Joe and his crew screen hopeful contestants for the hit show “America’s Next Top Model.”

They’re here to be judged solely on their physical appearances. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

It’s a real scene, man. These chicks have come from as far away as Queens, NY, with a healthy contingent from Georgia and plenty of local talent to fill out the ranks. Joe is expecting more than 300 to pass through the chrome-plated corral, show their profiles on the camera and do their best catwalk in the hopes of getting berated by television crazy lady Tyra Banks and her band of vacuous nasties.

There are rules, to be sure, clearly outlined on the WCWG website, though many of these hopefuls have neglected to read them. You need a drivers license and a social security card. You need three photos: a close-up, a full-length clothed and another in a swimsuit. You must be at least 5-foot-7. And, of course, you must be beautiful in a model kind of way.

Still, Joe says, of the first 135 participants, “forty of them didn’t have what they needed. One girl drove all the way from Georgia, but she was like five-four. She turned around and drove back home.”

And some of these broads have got to be kidding me: the beer guts… the eyebags… the blurry tattoos. It smells like delusion in here, delusion and foot sweat, and I’m asking myself if any if these trash-glam wannabes have ever even seen the show.

But wait a minute… there’s one, a tall, willowy number with teeth like Chiclets and the kind of slim, athletic build that routinely gets high school gym teachers fired. But hold the phone. Upon closer inspection I notice that her facial skin has some blemishes and barely discernible patches that mar her otherwise uniform tan.


Models are freaks of nature, you know. The American concept of beauty is based on bilateral symmetry and proportion in both the face and the body with emphasis on the slopes between armipt and thigh, and the simple fact is that people are not built like that. Most people, frankly speaking, are trolls. Ever been to the state fair? Yeah, like that.

And the pickings here are not much better, even though the crowd is stocked with people shooting for supermodel status. Seriously: the home perms and bad dye jobs, the square asses and FUPAs and bulging hips, those cankles, that back fat, those big noses… wait, scratch that. I like the girls with big noses.

And hey ho, what about that one? The one in the simple cropped top and real short skirt worn low on her glabrous abdomen, with the concave stomach and those protruding hip bones? Hip bones are the new cleavage, you know. She’s all right… but… wait a minute… there’s a bit of a double chin issue there, and now that I’m looking closely I can see that she’s got something of a jowl problem. And what’s up with those eyebrows? Such a shame….

This one’s too pink; that one’s too pale. This one is slouching. She’s too dark. Her friend is not black enough. That one looks like she got smacked in the face with a frying pan and this other one forgot to wax her treasure trail.

There’s a gallery of perverts watching from the upper floor, leaning over the railing and straining their vision, and more than a few teenage girls are watching from up there, too, with stars swimming around their wide-eyed faces.

Oh, there are a few hotties in here, to be sure: classy hot, Nubian hot, stripper hot, innocent hot, big booty hot, MILF hot, ghetto hot, hipster hot.

And look at that one, the leggy yellow blonde… but her dress is suspiciously poofy, like she’s hiding something. There’s another in leggings to her well-toned calves and a baby-doll dress. She’s got nice legs, nice shoulders. But she’s got a bit of the crazy eye. And here’s a contender with a square-cut page-boy ‘do – risky – in her $200 jeans and expensive jewelry. But then I catch her from another angle and see that she’s got one of those low-slung drop-seat asses that might work well bent over a coffee table but not quite up to snuff for “ANTM.”


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