So it’s a beautiful Saturday morning in Los Angeles and I’m sitting on a fire escape, homemade latte by my side, memorizing my lines. Ordinarily everytime I am repeating written words over and over again under my breath they aren’t “my” lines. Usually they lead to a curl of my hair so I may competitively swim in a sea of fellow blondes at a casting. However, today is different. A director friend of mine who lives in Chicago has cast me in a feature. It is such a fun role and will undoubtably lead to galavanting around in a school girl uniform and acting like a teenager come April, and most likely with name actors by my side.

The first two times he told me I had the part it was like trying to convince a girl the world was flat. After all, have I not been promised a half dozen movies and once by a wildly successful actress? I wasn’t about to go down that road of expectation again. It only lead to crumpling over in my bed and crying in the fetal position. Nonetheless, the more I heard it the more it fell on my ears as the honest truth from a friend.

Anyway, today Drew is busting out his camera so we can focus it on one of my scenes and send the results out to Chicago. I absolutely cannot wait to jump on that plane and do this thing! Two months to go…

When I was little I had a reoccurring fantasy about a babysitter. Before you let all your guy friends know it’s time to frequent A Gold Noise lemme clarify it’s not that kind of fantasy. Somewhere between my early discovery of Seventeen magazine and Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead I dreamed of going on an awe-inspiring, fashionable voyage with a bad-ass teenager.

Tell me you’ve been there! Six to eleven years old all I could wonder is, “what will I look like when I’m a teen?” When will my curves come, when will the boys knock down my door, when will I too be old enough to babysit? Until then it was a dream to have an older, stunning girl show me the ropes of growing up.

My sister Dawny was pretty darn close to my ideal only falling short in moving out when I was so young. But when she lived with us she was my perfection. She scurried around in the hippest of 80’s fashions, switching from straight out of a music video to gorgeous blonde cheerleader. She’d crimp my hair and I’d peek out the window and watch her wait for her Ken doll to pick her up.

As wonderful as it is to become an independent, accomplished adult, the whole discovery of what it is to be a carefree girl was inexhaustibly fun. I spent countless hours in my pink bedroom staring at my face and simply picturing it bigger and with makeup; what else could the future bring? I puppeteered my prettiest dolls to live out my ideal of a teen’s life. They dated imaginary cute boys and were beloved and envied by all the imaginary popular girls.

My teen years proved to be a universe away from any of my ideals- no boys, shabby fashion sense, and prototypical theater nerd- but, hey, it was fun to fantasize all the same… <3

Me + Foreigner + Tom Banks = 

Hey you babes dealing with and supposedly reveling in eating disorders: you are no longer welcome to peruse A Gold Noise for “thinspiration.”

I’m getting pissy because I keep getting hits from the google search “thinspiration” and that couldn’t be further from something I’d ever encourage. EVER. I went through a period of two years dealing with anorexia and there is nothing exciting or to be proud of about it. Days were spent day dreaming about food and longing for the moment I’d allow myself that bowl of cereal in the evening while valuable relationships and the joys of life went by the wayside.

I apologize sincerely for ever posting those grotesquely thin girls; the post is now removed. The photos were meant to appall and shock us into an understanding of how harmful the fashion industry can be. The fact those images could have the adverse affect on girls is not something I’m willing to risk.

I may sound like an enormous hypocrite because these words are coming from a girl who posts fashion shots with every entry. However, I beg you to see the changes that the standards of that industry are making (albeit extremely slowly). Lara Stone may have a comparably small body to some of us but she admits wearing a size 6. Despite that fact she opened Gaultier and closed Chanel at fashion week in 2009. Also, take a peek at this Terry Richardson shot of Lily Cole:

Still small but not that photoshopped perfection we usually see her as.

In short, girls please do not compare yourselves to or draw “thinspiration” from images you know so little about. The physical torment of becoming alarming skinny is not worth the supposed benefits of the look. And those magazines you cut out are often so played with in post that a model’s body is nearly cut in half. If Lara and Lily are free to be healthy in the fashion industry, of all places, you need to free yourselves to be healthy in whatever you do.

Beauty and male affection will not be found in our absurdly perverted standards… those lead to a sickness, period. As for the boys, you know who they’re swooning over nowadays?:

If you want inspiration look at these gorgeous women and focus not on the pounds but how to carry weight well- with shoulders back and utter confidence:

Lara Stone

Lily Cole

Doutzen Kroes- Still quite skinny but looking healthy!

Whitney Thompson - winner of ANTM (still photoshopped to flawless)

And let us not ever forget:

Solve Sundsbo

For a while I was thinking: I’m a twenty six year old professional errand-runner. Of course if anyone asked, “I’m an actress and writer!” However, the sinking economy had taken the boatload of my professions down with it. At twenty three I was a celebrity stylist assistant, often taking lead in photoshoots for television shows and magazines. By twenty four I was a consistently paid writer fashion editing a magazine and freelancing for Universal Music Group. By twenty five it was all gone, some by choice but most by the force of plummeting markets. Gigs that used to seek out SAG actresses begged for non-union and clothing lines who once threw money left and right offered pathetic pennies to get the job done.

Despite the troubling facts good fortune followed me and made it difficult to ever feel sorry for myself. While styling a promotional shoot for a TV show one of the lead actors approached me about personal assistant work for him and his wife. Four years later they are my enthusiastic cheerleaders, generous bosses, sources of grocery and rent, as well as genuine friends. Still, at the end of the day I could think, “I run errands… for a living.”

Well, what does that bring? They have freed me to never miss an audition, modeling gig, or opportunity. Not to mention these foundational years of my marriage were free of stressful jobs or distractions. It’s been me and Drew enjoying one another. Also to PA a successful actor made for a job where I never felt too many millions of miles from my desires.

Fast-forward to last week and Kim, my best friend and genius of Wildfox, offered me a job beyond our usual fun photoshoots. I adore her so much because although I’ve never asked for a job she’s always given them to me freely and with confidence. “Would you want to design store windows for us?” and later, “You want to help us style our shoots?” Well, hell yes.

So Kim and I played big time Barbies together. We dressed and placed nine mannequins for a store in Pasadena that wanted to feature Wildfox. I felt like a kid in a candy shop while we perused the place for cute pieces, dug through our bags of tights and jewels, and christened each girl with a wig of our choice. These Barbies are a hell of a lot more cumbersome than the ones we used to have but the sheer weight of them gave us a workout to boot- every twenty six year old fashion lover’s dream!

Next week I’ll be helping Kim, Emily, and Meredith dress our three gorgeous models for Wildfox’s next shoot. It will be a lot of errands and a handful of taking backseat and PA’ing but  I can call myself “actress, writer, PA, AND stylist” again, which I love.

Jason Ell

Over the summer the little girl I nanny befriended the little girl one of my best friends nannies. Funny enough, for all the situations I’ve been in with fancy, acclaimed people no job has brought on more of those occurrences than nannying Karis. I found myself chasing her and her little friends around gigantic, eclectic mansions full of parents almost anyone would know of. Despite my New Jersey beginnings even these experiences become commonplace as one eases into, “It’s all good. They are just people.”

Anyway, my friend’s little girl had a birthday party full of swimming in the luxurious salt water pool, jumping on an overwhelming princess moon bounce, and partaking in treats void of artificial flavors or high fructose corn syrup. There were many recognizable faces under the intricate face paints that were being ornamented on guests left and right.

Karis begged me to join her in the pool so I stripped down to my 1940’s style one piece that lifts and tucks in all the right places. When I got out a movie star who I’ve always loved and found exceptionally, naturally beautiful introduced herself and asked where I got my suit. “It’s actually just H&M, but I got it years ago. They probably don’t have it anymore.”

She bit her lip, “Oh.” We smiled at one another until she explained, “It’s just so flattering and covers so much. I usually feel so uncomfortable with my body.” Then we danced the whole,

“Me too sometimes.”

” No, no your body is perfect.”

“Well yours is beautiful! Nothing to worry about!”

Later we stood together in a larger group and she talked about needing to work out. “You know, they bring me in to fit me for films and they’re all sample sizes! Size 2! I can’t fit in them and I always feel so terrible and enormous.”

So much of me wanted to say, listen, the rest of us are looking at you so don’t try to be a waif; be the woman who’s healthy that we all can look up to. We won’t mind! But I silenced myself. After all, who am I to know whether or not “Hollywood” would accept her at her healthy weight or not.

I drove away wishing I could have encouraged her with something of value. Maybe I’ll know what to say next time.

Suzannah Sinclair

I hesitate to write this post out of fear of seeming arrogant. However, I just got to say I attempted to become a “real model” when I moved to LA nearly 8 years ago. At the time my hair was “boring,” I was far too “inexperienced,” and I “lack[ed] confidence”. (All quotes courtesy of agents at open calls.)

A couple years later I tried the rounds again- hello, Ford, LA Models, Click, Wilhemina… you name it I tried it. By that time I was “too old to start”, didn’t have a book, or was “exactly like a model we already have.”

Finally I threw in the towel. After all modeling wasn’t a passion of mine; it just seemed like an excellent way to sustain me until I could make money as an actress. So much for that idea. Or so I thought.

Shortly after I haphazardly fell into modeling for friends with successful companies who often referred me to other lines. I became a “light” sometimes model and it’s been great fun and helpful cashflow. Interestingly enough, lately I’ve found myself just a teensy hint confused, if not a little tiny dash of WTF.

Around Christmas I began getting texts and emails from people I know, some very well, congratulating me on this Express campaign:

Well, let me just say that I am not the one reaping those rewards but the highly successful Caroline Trentini. She shortly after haunted me again when the Victoria’s Secret show aired. The texts of congratulations came flowing in again. The teachers at Karis’ preschool even assumed that’s why they hadn’t seen me in a while.

VS

In short, I’m thankful I can tell Drew, “People think I’m a Victoria’s Secreeeet model” (read like a boastful 6 year old) but also thought, “Hey, why can’t I even sign with a low-level agency and book a knock-off Ugg campaign?”

Ah, well. Maybe it’s God’s way of omnipotently protecting me from a looming eating disorder. Been there, done that.

<3

PS- I wrote this in the morning and now, at 8:30PM, my non-blog reader friend Kenny just texted me this picture with the note, “Is this you??” Just drivin’ the point home.

Tuesday was one of those magnificent days when it seems each moment is the happy wrap up of a romantic comedy starring Jennifer Aniston. Order a small Pomegranate Blueberry Tea Latte and they unwittingly make you a large, drive around Hollywood Boulevard for only three seconds before finding a free spot, and spend prescious moments with Karis, 4 and sassy.

It has been raining like mad in Los Angeles and Tuesday was no exception. Drivers became unhinged and fearfully, often at fours mile per hour, crawled down the drenched freeways. However, nothing was going to bother me that day. I securely sat on cloud 9 awaiting my 4:15PM audition.

When I pulled into WB’s parking structure it seemed clear I’d be running a far way in the rain, completely diminishing my strategic waves from “sexy beach” to drenched rat. Instead it abruptly stopped while I walked to the building and promptly started back up when I was within. Heaven kissed, thank you.

I read for a great role on a successful crime drama and I’d even get to die, which is one of my dramatic dreams. The casting director brought me through the scene twice before inviting me for a callback the following day. “Felicity,” c’mon, she had to be mine. As I left the rain had stopped. It poured again when I nestled into my car. I told my mom, “Hey, can’t this be a sign? Look at all the nice things that happened today; maybe I have the part!”

It was a nice sentiment but today proved to be untrue as another girl scooped up the role while I remained “good, but not right for this one.”

Regardless, I’ll consider yesterday a part of my fairy tale. I may not get everything that I want, and especially not specifically when I want it, but as I stood with my husband, brother, best friend, and friends outside of IO West comedy club where I’d just performed I knew I had everything I needed. Dreams can come true tomorrow… or the next day.

* Both photos from I Love Wildfox.

I’m quite sad to not know what I would have written these silent 6 months. I know there was fear of failure, a bombshell of news which caused more immense pain than I’ve ever known, a change in my body type to “womanhood” that I’ve slowly embraced, and a series of victories large and small.

Drew and I flew to Mexico in July to celebrate Jennika’s wedding in Playa Del Carmen. She lovingly swore that our own wildly out-of-the-box wedding inspired her and Raul to shove conventions out the window. The result was a beach side celebration full of naked, painted animal dancers, an array of creatures, fire breathing, and a lot of flailing to music while we and our friends broke the waves in our dresses.

Several months later an acquaintance who tours the world with his band Thenewno2 asked if we’d like to adopt his tortoises Mortimer and Randolph. We obviously scooped up the little babies with joy. Drew’s enthusiasm reached further and wider than even mine as he ditched the tank and built a custom environment for them in our living room. Their teeny tiny spirits are such a nice addition to our lives.

Speaking of which, the entire environment in which Drew and I live has become something I cherish. During our almost 2 years in this house we have acquired beautiful possessions and found a home for everything. Everyday that I walk down my street, alive with all sorts of characters in my tale, I can’t cease to be grateful for the things (tangible and intangible) that I have right now.

October brought another Halloween at Kim’s…

Always a fancy party or few with Camille in limos (which I’ve decided are incredibly tacky)…

or with Kim on red carpets. But don’t get me wrong- no one is taking our picture but us.

Drew and I spent Thanksgiving in Newport…

Christmas in Jersey…

and a quiet New Years with Michael, Lucia, and friends.

All in all I have wonderful friends, a new job as a stylist for Wildfox, a movie on the horizon, and relationships I am so proud to keep. 2010 is poised to be a wonderful year…

Jolijn Snijders

For the past 2 or 3 months a thought had been gnawing on me: Why don’t you write?

I’ve ignored it out of some belief of lacked inspiration and sheer laziness but day by day it bit harder.

Finally, last night Kim, David, Jeg, Renee, my brother and company all gathered at Kelsey’s for Drew’s birthday barbeque. Kim suddenly yelped, “You’ve got fan mail!” She proceeded to read a letter via her own blog I Love Wildfox which sweetly acknowledged how much I’ve neglected my own passion for A Gold Noise. It was incredibly sweet and may have just been what I needed to reignite my fire. So, thank you to the stranger and to my brother for renewing my site, literally and figuratively.