CNTM – MODEL MADNESS

It was all legs: tall legs, skinny legs, brown legs, white legs, cold legs, legs with rashes, lubricated legs and jittery legs – but most of all, legs up t’here. For self conscious shorties, Fairview Mall last Friday was not the place to be.

Canada’s Next Top Model hopefuls slept in their cars, flew in from Winnipeg and fled from the Niagara wine region to line up and wait for a precious thirty seconds with Elmer Olsen. After hours of anticipation, the model mega-man scanned their body, demanded a quick strut and either plucked them for round two or instantly shattered their lifelong dreams.

Some came alone, others with pimply and awkward friends who stood by their side repeating how pretty their friend was like a mantra (wow – that’s gotta suck). Every race was represented, and sometimes all in one, “I’m truly Canadian because I’m French, Russian, Native, Danish and Chinese…look, see my eyes…see, I’m Chinese too.”

Mixed race or not, they were all cold and exposed. A model can’t hide her chunky cottage cheese thighs with SPANX, Elmer wanted to see the goods fresh and raw so in mid-winter (moment for you to look outside and gawk), they stood around bare and exposed.  Further, under each girl’s skimpy outfit, they were asked to wear a bikini. Talk about a cattle call…oh, but that makes perfect sense, since before Olsen discovered dear Daria he traded cattle – or so says an insider at Starbucks.

Anorexic Andrea Muizelaar from Ajax was the winner of CNTM Cycle One. Since then she has made a quasi-career of bashing the show and making heart felt confessions of her eating disorders on Youtube. Then it was Rebecca Hardy, the hot dog maker from Mennonite-ville who screwed around on her bf with the bluntest of bangs but beat the rest despite being a promiscuous drunk. You may see Hardy at various E-talk bashes doing photo opps for losers like myself, and when she’s not busy with that she’s trying really hard to speak eloquently, and with just the right pep, for Cover Girl. Sorry Hardy, but we prefer to gaze at your gams than hear you awkwardly spew about beach-ready make-up.

Who’s next? Well, to appease the rest of the country, we already know she’s gotta be from another province. Bets are also placed that the Cycle Three winner will not be white.

Empathetically overwhelmed while watching a scrawny nineteen year old catwalk with sweaty palms that nervously spilled her ID onto the floor, I held my heart and nearly cried. Scoff all you want, but it’s not easy to be fierce as you receive cut-eye from hundreds of girls just hoping knees buckle and you embarrass yourself. Not to mention the throngs of retirees, mall rats and parents bent over the second story like sea sick tourists on a fishing cruise.

Blotted faces, those who did not make the first cut, pushed passed the crowds to quietly tear up in Payless Shoes, while Mom (who is responsible for feeding them the modeling dream) rushed to Timmies for a soothing hot cocoa.

We caught wind of girls without Mom being approached by a shady weirdo who exclaimed “Don’t worry, you’re pretty, I can take your photos, what’s your number?”, so desperate they etched their name and number on a piece of paper – that is until we stepped in and told them “NO, NO, NO!!!”. Following this was a quick scurry to security. CREEP!

While their dream may be to grace the covers of FASHION magazine, ours is to parade around the house playing the “Big Sister” role; making them soup, feeding them vitamins and assuring them that it’s okay if they don’t win. Breaks from lectures will include funny fashion faces in the mirror, getting drunk and pretending to be Tyra on a rampage.

Chin chin to another season full of meltdowns, skinny bitch fights, gawky photos, bad outfits, and secret confessions on who hates who. When Cycle Three starts, you best have your weekly gang organized because nothing beats ordering in greasy Thai food, yelling at the television screen and killing commercial time comparing cat walks to and from the kitchen. Mix in some cocktails and you’ll either be pulling your friend’s hair, making out with her or complaining that you are fat and ugly.

CONTEST – WIN TIX TO THE VIRGINS CONCERT

Foxy New York rock ‘n rollers The Virgins are bringing their indie swagger to Toronto, and we want to send you forth to ogle, dance, and work your groupie eyes at El Mocambo on Feb 5th. Send an email with the subject line ‘Rich Girls’ to contests@shedoesthecity.com, and start practicing your lip syncing:  myspace.com/thevirginsnyc