The Net Dog Blog

Move over, Kate Moss! You're about to have a little competition.

A couple weeks ago, I found myself imbibing my usual cider at XXL, when my friend Jason turned to me and said "Those guys over there are looking at you." I followed his gaze and saw two men, one with a camera and one holding a clipboard. It seemed that they were, indeed, looking at me. They made their way over to me and asked if I would like to be a part of something they were doing for Gay.com. I also swear I heard the word "bears" which caused me a bit of concern. Of course I made some self-deprecating remark about not being able to take a good picture. Clipboard's reply was "He has shot for Vogue. He can make anyone look good. Besides, I can see hidden potential." You just can't make up lines like this, folks.

Flash. Camera guy took a picture. They just wanted to take a test shot for now.

Needless to say, I was hesitant but before I could turn them down Jason was signing me up. This is the problem with being semi-sober when all your friends are shitfaced. During this exchange I pointed to Blake, who was wearing a leather harness of course, and said that he was my partner. They called him over and took a picture of both of us. The next thing I knew, they had signed him up as well promising to call us soon with details about the project.

Other than joking about being a Vogue model with my friends, I hadn't given "the project" much thought until my phone rang. Unknown number. Now, generally I don't answer those, but I guess it caught me off guard.

"Hello?"

I rarely get a signal in our tiny flat so I couldn't make out who was calling and hung up. However, my psychic voice told me who it was.

Blake called me minutes later and that Gay.com had called and wanted us for a photo shoot on Sunday. Apparently all we had to do is wear our "favorite belt and shoes" (Who has a favorite belt?!?) and they would provide the clothing. Immediately my response was "I don't think we should do it." I still really didn't understand what this project was about but my fears led me down a road where I was trussed up in a leather harness like an S&M Thanksgiving turkey and I wasn't having any of it. Blake tried to reassure me by telling me "They came to you first, you know." Flattery will get you nowhere when I'm being skeptical, but I told him that I guess I would just have to trust his judgment. I figured at best it would be like one of those childhood visits to Olan Mills or even better I would be right and could say I told you so.

So Sunday morning Blake and I journeyed to east London. As soon as we entered the restaurant where the shoot was taking place my possibly irrational fears were put to rest. As I now understand it, the project is an article on fashion for Gay.com and basically they would take some pictures of us in what I understood to be designer clothes. After having makeup applied and our hair done we were to be given our clothes. By the way, the makeup artist told me how I had such smooth complexion and great hands. "They hardly give away your age," she said. I think there was a complement in there somewhere.

Blake looked really nice in his brown houndstooth suit and blue sweater over a white Oxford shirt. I on the other hand was horrified when they dressed me in a green velvet suit over a red hoodie. I looked like the inside of a gangsta rapper's coffin!

Fortunately, the green really washed out my porcelain (read pasty) complexion and the green velvet monstrosity was exchanged for a nice blue polo with thin white stripes and a gray jacket. My luck being what it is though I managed to rip the back out of the green velvet pants while attempting to sit with my foot on the banquette where I was sitting with my arms around my knee. I was so embarrassed but my embarrassment did not seem to overshadow my relief when I was able to change those pants for my own jeans.

Anyway, after what seemed like a few dozen pictures later, the shoot was finished. They showed me a few of the photos they took of us. Blake's looked great. I thought the makeup made me look like a corpse. Here's hoping they are planning to do some Photo Shop magic!

Apparently the article will be on the site next week or something. You'll be the first to know when I hear something. In the meantime, I need to stock up on cocaine and cotton balls to snack on when I feel peckish. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.