Oh, what fun!
This video from Fashion Week in NYC is a fantastic study in personality, presence and image.
Watch how some of these women manage the runway with a great sense of humor, grace and confidence, and how some of them (Rachael Ray, shame on you!) don’t.
The thing is, PeaceBang is pretty sure that anyone who isn’t a professional model must feel silly walking the runway. It’s a silly thing to do, for heaven’s sake. Strutting around like your dress is the most news-worthy item in the world is silly. But darlings, that’s show biz, and it sells dresses.
To make a ministerial analogy, no one loves walking in a wedding or ordination processional, either. There’s that gracious Queen Elizabeth smile one always has to wear, and then there’s the triple challenge of reading the words to the hymn while walking and singing, and trying not to trip on the hem of one’s robe in the meanwhile.
PeaceBang remembers one particularly awful processional at West Point, when she had just finished officiating at her beloved Uncle Marvin’s funeral and it came time to walk out to the cemetery to inter his ashes. The grief of the assembled loved ones was intense, and you had better believe that PeaceBang felt supernaturally self-conscious walking behind that cadet as he marched solemnly ahead with my dear uncle’s human remains in a mahogany box. I was trying not to sob and trying not to burst into hysterical laughter. But honey, when all eyes are upon you, grimacing and clutching at one’s gut and rolling one’s modest little eyes a la Rachael Ray is not the way to do it. We straighten the spine, compose the face, focus the eyes straight ahead, relax the mouth muscles to manage any trembling, and think, “Elegance, darling, and we’ll have a martini when it’s all over.”*
Rachael Ray, PeaceBang extends to you the Pursed Lips of Disapproval.
As to the rest of you, do not for a second think it’s silly to rehearse your processional walk. No one’s looking, and you may thank yourself for it some Sunday afternoon when you’re gliding along singing “Forward Through the Ages,” looking fantabulous, and not tripping on your robes.
* I cannot lie. The moment I stepped away from the grave and the trumpeter began to play “Taps,” I sobbed quietly into my hankie. But I was quiet. And I had a lovely white hankie.