As you may have assumed, my children are just like your children. Perhaps a few minor quirks, but otherwise beautiful, intelligent, and overall wonderful people. 😉

Nevertheless, it came as somewhat of a pleasant surprise to me that my daughter (the cats call her Blondie, so I’ll use “B”) went to an audition for a talent agency and was immediately picked to represent them at a talent convention in LA (Los Angeles, not Louisiana) after the first of the year.

All that I know about this type of thing comes from America’s Next Top Model (which I watched with B) and my cousin trying to get her toddler into some beauty pageants back in the ‘80s. Every once in a while I would wander in and see part of Dance Moms.

Needless to say, as happy as I was for B, I was a little anxious to see how it was going to work out. I figured it had to be good that they were going to give her a scholarship for the classes she needed to take before the trip and for part of the trip. Apparently it helps to also be wealthy if you want to show the world how beautiful/talented you are.

B is going for photography, commercials and singing. I guess another 6 inches would have been beneficial for the runway part. She wears her own clothes which isn’t bad, but a little strange. They had a photo shoot the other day. (I guess the people in LA need to know that they really are only accepting beautiful people.)

She had a “casual” look which included something they called “army boots.” In black (of course.) No, not the ones that lace up to your ankles; the ones that come up to your ankles with heels and pointed toes. B had a pair, but she needed to get another pair because hers did not have a zipper on the side. The ones she got have zippers on both sides, but apparently that’s acceptable.

Before she went to the photo shoot, B went to the salon. I went with her because it was a ways from home and she didn’t know how to get there. It was in a chic neighborhood, so I knew exactly what to expect. The front would be quiet with extremely well-groomed young women who would ask you why you were there. An assistant would take you to the back where there were innumerable people walking around with good haircuts and casual (expensive) clothes. It would all be a little overwhelming. At least that was my experience from my days as a consultant when I frequented such places.

Times have changed. We walked in the front door and it was loud. Not loud music, just loud. She had to speak over the noise to be heard. They had her go to the “face salon” first; they pointed. They took a “before” picture, waxed her eyebrows, and did the final decision-making on her hair.,

The salon had a leather bench across from the reception desk where I waited. Apparently the salon caters to a clientele that is somewhere between chic and shabby-chic. I was expecting cutting-edge; I got suburban instead. How disappointing – it was all regular people with regular clothes and hair. There was a manager person in a mauve silky dress to her knees, ruffled maroon knee socks and black pumps. I knew the look she was going for. Unfortunately she didn’t get there.

On the other hand, B was stunning. In place of her wavy dark blonde, shoulder-length hair, she had a chocolate brown short bob with a chocolate glaze (kind of sounds like a pastry). She has dark blue eyes and high cheekbones, so the short hair really worked. I hardly recognized the exhausted barista I had brought in.

Before we could leave, B had to have her “after” picture taken and a final color consult for the actual shoot. Apparently she passed.

As we left, I had one thought: Thank goodness the agency paid for this out of the money we gave them.