OMFG - Modelizers galore..

After being here just over two weeks I've encountered many new species: the incredibly large and scary flying bugs that whiz in and out of my apartment via the open balcony, the screeching tropical bird which wakes me up every morning that, although I know it's probably rare and endangered, I just want to shoot, and then there's the most fascinating species of all -- modelizers. Oh, sure, we have our share of mild modelizers in Toronto -- men that enjoy the company of leggy waifs hanging around King West and pursue them here and there and whatnot but over here, at least from what I've seen, it's not just for sport -- it's a downright profession.

With so many girls here who are depending on modeling to give them a better life, I guess it's no surprise that it's like shooting fish in a barrel for men who have oodles of money (or enough to pretend they have oodles) to come in and sweep them off their feet with dinners, trips, purses and hey -- maybe even a little affection. I've had dinner with more than my share of modelizers and to hear them talk about us models like pieces of meat really ("Oh, this agency gets all the good blondes. She had good legs, bad teeth though. Unfortunate." That's so not what's unfortunate about that sentence, buddy.) is something I choose to view as entertaining. Yes, they're condescending and arrogant but likely sad little men as well so I make the best of such situations and humor this amusing breed of (not-so) gentlemen. (I also end up befriending modelizers because it's apparent one drink into dinner that they're not getting in my pants.) Men that want to be surrounded by beautiful women always isn't surprising really, I mean sex makes the world go round and round after all (sorry love and money) -- what's surprising to me is how willing all these girls are to latch onto some dude they barely know. Coming from a fairly well-off family in Canada I guess I can't really relate to not having a backup plan in life but to see fourteen year olds throw themselves at men old enough to be my dad -- well it's just kind of gross. Okay sure, maybe I'm being unsympathetic; what if they came from a hard life and have parents who are ill and blah blah blah but honestly if you're some chick who wants to whore themselves out via their looks to get the good life, well don't expect much sympathy from anyone! Like jeez, go to school or something! Brains. They're in our heads for a reason.

Snideness aside, the situation is what it is and oh goodness, it's just downright hilarious sometimes. While enjoying tapas and martinis the other night, one modelizer friend of mine expressed his disdain for a girl who outright asked for a designer bag during lunch with him. "I mean, can you believe that?!" he had exclaimed. That's the fine line of modelizing; even though the girls are acutely aware of their status as status symbols, it's in bad taste to actually acknowledge it...subtleties also make the world go round if you ask me. It's a whole industry where decisions are made on nuances so why should the sex associated with it be any different? These girls are girlfriends to the men they're with, and are expected to act appropriately. Sometimes it's like watching a father with his daughter who just was taught how to act like a lady post-Cotillion or something....i.e.hilarious. 


I'm sure some of these pairings turn into lasting unions, and good for the ones that do, but for the rest of the girls out there who are looking to latch their legs onto something better than what they came from; it's a mess waiting to happen. Even the savviest of femme fatales are bound to feel used (and really, how much of a femme fatale can one be as a teenager?) or worse. A modelizer's motto likely something along the lines of "why fuck the girl in the skirt when you can fuck the girl modeling the skirt?" -- well ladies, or more like girls, why fuck the man with the money when you fuck some one who actually likes you for you? Exactly.
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Eat, Pray, Movie Love....OMFG

Eat, Pray, Love, the memoir written by Elizabeth Gilbert finally came out in movie form last weekend. I've read the book, and while wildly popular, Gilbert received a lot of criticism for basically being a privileged, wealthy writer with no substantial problems (relatively speaking) who whines her way through Italy, India and Bali looking for whatever she thought was missing in her life and marriage before. As one critic lovingly put it: #whitepeopleproblems. Well said, but let's face it, if you're reading this from the comfort of your living room in the Western World, chances are you've been through some white people problems yourself. With social privileges acknowledged, I actually really enjoyed the novel! With no formal training in writing, Gilbert's style is simple, clear and lengthy...it's as if she's just written the streaming thoughts that run through her head. She is at times self-loathing, narcissistic, ridiculously observant and over-the-top...her words are the extent of how we all feel some times but won't admit. I could relate with her feeling out of place and desperately unhappy in a world where everything is seemingly fine and gladly read of her finding herself on her own in three very different countries. Yes, it may seem self-indulgent to leave a high-paying job in the most ambitious city in the world (New York) and take year to simply live in beautiful locations across the globe, but it was nice to take the journey with Gilbert who was selfish and fortunate enough to live it.
The movie was light and breezy as expected, and just as light and breezy in safely resolving itself. While Gilbert may have found real love in Bali, it just seemed a little too easy that a man who wanted to devote himself to her was waiting in the final destination of her trip. Sure, it can be argued that Gilbert herself was finally ready to love again and opened herself up to the opportunity after months of soul-searching, but I just didn't buy it. Attribute it to the bitter state I'm in right now, but just think of how many divorced women are going to travel to these three places only to find no Javier Bardem waiting for them at sunset ready to sail into a new life together...plenty. Sexy Brazilian men there may not be in real life, but it's the opening of oneself up to opportunity, and seeing her potential in the world again that brings the real lesson in life after losing a lover.
Easy, breezy fluff aside, there were two distracting factors in the movie that left me puzzled. One, and the most noticeable: Robert's lips. Seriously girls, if you're even considering getting injections done to your lips, take one look at this movie and see it as a warning not to. Being the biggest movie star in the world can't cover up the fact that Roberts, although radiant in appearance and lovely in her role, has a big ole trout upper lip that I could. not. stop. staring. at. Especially during scenes in Italy where there are literally close-ups of her lips in each scene. Unnatural, unnecessary and just plain silly looking...stick to what your Mama's gave you ladies, and if not, at least go the Megan Fox circa Transformers route where no one can tell. (Any further and you'll look like the Robo-Megan that's out there today -- terrifying.)
The other question mark of the movie was James Franco. Once a James Dean-esque moody heartthrob, Franco now more resembles a college kid who's kind of high and kind of scraggly and kind of stumbled onto camera with some lines to spit out. His performance was so strange, I almost expected to see him post it on Funny or Die along with the rest of his weirdly nonsensical videos on acting. Even unkempt he's still a handsome man, but the eyes-half-closed, dopey-smiled expression he had on his face the entire movie left me thinking that maybe he should stick to General Hospital for a little bit. His eccentricities are strangely attractive, but I'm just not sure they belong in a chick-lit movie.
Romanticized travel, spectacular food, and easy love are all emphasized in Eat, Pray, Love and while none-too-realistic, it was nonetheless a pleasant journey through a woman's mind and a world where every whim of an unhappy woman could be fulfilled simply because she wanted it.

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